Part 1: In a nutshell

My name is Tatiana,

But I go by Ana.

I'm russian, except the fact that I know absolutely nothing about russian culture.

One thing I do know is, my dad always says it isn't proper for siblings to shut eachother out.

Whenever I lock my bedroom door, he b*****s and moans about how I don't need privacy.

Sometimes I wonder why we ever got locks on our doors.

I guess it was my mom's idea.

Still, with her gone, I wonder why Dad never got them taken away.

Everything else that was hers he's sold.

I think he should just finish the job.

I have two sisters,

But if you asked me while I wasn't paying attention,

I'd say I had one.

My oldest sister, Yuliana, goes by Julia.

She spends all her time with her friends.

And they're all boys, which my dad worries about.

Julia's seventeen, and she knows how to drive.

So we're not very high on her list of priorities.

Sometimes I wonder if she even cares.

My second sister is Katerina, and her friends call her Katia.

It seems like I always get left behind.

You think Mihailov sisters, you think Katia and Julia. And... the other one.

Because that's all I am to anyone.

Nothing.

My dad made fish for dinner,

I will not eat it.

Not only is it slimy, gross and not fully cooked,

but because if I do eat anything I'm afraid I'll throw it right back up.

Why, you ask?

Because Jack Simmons is at my house.

My dad made fish for dinner,

I will not eat it.

I think Jack Simmons is checking Katia out,

And she doesn't even notice.

It's sickening, because he doesn't even notice me staring at him.

And he's mesmerizing, with his dark brown hair and his bright blue eyes.

And those lips, those perfectly red lips, swollen from the February cold,

I could kiss them all day and night.

Jack Simmons is definitely checking Katia out,

and I've never been so jealous.

Jack left an hour ago,

Leaving me to finish our history project,

while carefully slipping Katia his number.

He thought I didn't see,

but I surely did.

Katia will not call him, of that I'm sure.

Katia has a boyfriend, you see,

And a line down the block of admirers.

In the cold silence of the night,

I've gotten used to not trying to talk to Katia.

She never replies.

I wish she'd let me in to her eleventh grade mind.

Let me linger on her every thought.

But tonight, in a faint whisper, she speaks clearly to me:

“That boy was cute, don't you think?”

I hesitate, and reply softly:

“Yeah, he was.”

“Eh, he's not really my type.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes even though she couldn't see me.

Because Jack Simmons was exactly my type.

Today is the day,

I can just feel it.

I only had Saturday and Sunday before it was right back into the hellhole known as school.

Bang bang went the nails, and I was sent right back to the place I'd been dreading all weekend.

And when the morning bell sounded,

I took a deep breath.

Today is the day,

I ask Jack Simmons out.

I take a deep breath,

A good impulse.

I take one step, and then another. And another.

Oh god, Jack Simmons is looking right at me.

Commence plan.

“Hey, Jack!”

A surprised look, a sexy smirk, Jack Simmons hasn't spoken a word.

“Hi, Mihailov.” He mutters, horribly mispronouncing my last name.

“Hey, Simmons,” I joke, “I was thinking maybe we could go to the dance together. Maybe.”

“Maybe not.”

Damn Jack Simmons,

For breaking my heart.

Damn that shaggy brown hair.

Damn those pretty tenth grade girls who crowd around him.

Damn that lime green tuke with the white pom pom he wears.

Damn Jack Simmons,

for breaking my heart.

In the cafeteria,

Yelling voices slur.

Katia sits at a round table, with billions of smiling faces around her.

Julia is out on the quad.

Jack Simmons is sitting near Katia, being fondled by pretty girls.

“He's not worth it.” I hear Katia's wise words in my mind.

But I can't shake this feeling that every time they break out into laughter,

It's because of me. Me and my failed desires.

Katia whips out her sparkly pink iPhone, and I gaze down at mine, tucked down inside my purse.

I see handsome boys gaze at her with longing,

But she will never notice.

I guess she feels me watching her, because she glances my way and waves.

I feel a wave of mixed emotions wash over me,

and I raise my palm in salutations.

She turns back to her crowd of adoring fans,

and it's obvious how much better then me she really is.

Word gets around fast,

and by the time I get home I have texts from people I didn't even know had my number.

'You asked Jack Simmons out?' 'b***h u knew I liked him' 'that wuz stupid u had no chance'

I managed to get over everyone's horrendous spelling and grammar,

and stashed away my tears.

You see,

Katia has a boy over,

and I will never let him see me cry.

In the kitchen,

“I've got to go, I've got a pedicure with Daphne. Make sure Katia behaves herself.” Janet says sternly.

I roll my eyes and wave her off, chugging down a glass of mango juice.

Janet is my father's new wife. His new life. His new everything.

She's beautiful and young, and looks like a college student.

She's a rotten gold digger,

and she knows I think so.

In the kitchen,

I hope Janet knows she's not welcome in my home.

My famous last words will be,

all about how I was never loved. How I was always everyone's least favourite.

How Jack Simmons slit open all those old, healing wounds and poured alcohol on them one by one.

I've never thought about death before.

It only goes spiraling downhill from here.

The dance is in a week,

What am I going to do?

Go to the dance alone and dance with my friends?

Never.

That's acceptable at the Christmas dance, and the Halloween one.

But at the Valentine's day dance?

Never.

Monday, tuesday, tick tock,

I long to be one of those girls who has a line of boys wanting to dance with them.

I long to be held, to be kissed, to be lingered on.

By strong, loving hands of any willing boy.

I long to stare into the dark night,

and see a light in the distance.

Because I know I have someone to live for.

I long to be Katia.

A wave and a grin,

is all that's left when Dylan Holleran struts away.

I wonder if he knows he left with my heart.

Those simple words repeat in my mind.

“Do you want to go to the dance with me?”

I thought he'd never ask.

I thought no one would ever ask.

When I get home I realize,

I can't dance.

I've got two left feet and a bad case of stage fright.

When Dylan comes around with a proud grin and a hand held out to me,

I'll quiver and stumble against him.

And what will I wear?

God, what was I thinking?

I need Katia's help,

A sentence I never thought I'd utter.

But she's so elegant and graceful, with a spunky strut,

I can't help but envy her confidence.

She's told me millions of times the tales of her high school dances.

How she danced with so-and-so and how it was soooo much fun.

I need Katia's help,

RIGHT NOW!

“He asked you to the dance?”

Katia exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock.

“Yup.” I murmured, with a wandering gaze.

She grins and clears her throat,

“It'll be fun. You worry and spazz about how awkward it's going to be and then it's just... perfect.”

“But I'm not you! What if I sneeze? Or if I step on his foot?”

“If he's worth it... he'll like you anyways.”

I roll my eyes and sigh.

Mental note.

Never ask Katia for help.

Today is the day of the dance,

And my teeth have been gritted all day. My heart pumping, my lips pursed.

I haven't spoken one word.

My best friend, Ashley, has gotten pretty worried.

First period, second period, third period.

It's finally time.

Ashley and I charge to the bathroom to prepare,

just to find a busy line.

When the older girls clear out,

The bathroom fills with the buzz of ninth grade gossip.

We lean over the sinks, powdering our noses, chattering on and on.

“Did you hear Katia Mihailov is going with Tony Kingston?”

“I heard they're getting a hotel room after the dance.”

I roll my eyes, because I know Katia better then anyone.

I attack my eyes with black mascara, tugging them up to a satisfactory length.

With quick reflexes and swiftness, I apply thick lines of black eyeliner.

I touch up my blemishes, covering them with pale foundation.

I roll up a tube of glossy, red chapstick, smothering my lips.

I breath in the aroma of cherry, spreading the warm gloss along my lips.

Ashley and I maneuver through the crowd and into a large bathroom stall.

“This is insanity!” Ashley exclaims, shaking as she pulls off her orange v-neck.

I tuck my ¾ sleeve white blouse into my high-waisted ruffled yellow skirt that shows off my legs.

I tighten the black belt with the gold buckle around the skirt.

Ashley grins in approval, taking my hand in hers.

In the gym,

I see all the grades.

The popular twelfth graders are in a crowd near the stage,

cheering on the DJ, pumping their fists in the air.

Katia is in that group, with her twelfth grade date, Tony Kingston.

I'm still not used to seeing her dirty dancing, her pink, lacy thong showing beneath her low-rise jeans.

She's wearing a mauve, baggy sweater that hangs off her shoulder.

I wouldn't blame them if a teacher tapped on her shoulder and told her to cover her bra strap.

Ashley charges off to the group of the most popular ninth graders, mostly girls with cute boys.

I try to fit into the crowd with her,

and I'm surprised that I do fit in.

Perfectly.

20 fast songs later,

“Hey, let's slow things down now. Boys, grab your girl.”

The mood in the gym changes,

hormones are raging.

A familiar song begins playing, and Dylan awkwardly reaches for my hand.

I breathe in, without worrying about all my imperfections,

he pulls me in close.

And my body goes into an incredible high.

The people who aren't dancing,

They sing softly:

“Is it the look in your eyes? Or is it this dancing juice? Who cares, baby? I think I wanna marry you.”

I try not to hum along,

I'm careful to stay in this unbelievable trance.

Dylan's hands rest safely on my waist,

and I'm surprised that I barely knew him before this.

We were but strangers,

become lovers.

When I get home,

I'm still jazzed up.

I can feel the rush of blood.

The pumping of my heart.

The urging feeling that I should kiss him,

Go right in for the kill.

I pray this isn't the last time Dylan's arms sway me back and forth.

I think he's my boyfriend now.

YES!!!!!