Summary: Monologue From Faking Normal
Monologue
From Faking Normal
Black funeral dress. Black heels. Black headband in my hair. Death has a style all its own. I'm glad I don't have to wear it very often
My dress, which I found after rummaging in the back of my closet, still smell vaguely of summer and chlorine. The smell is probably just a memory.
Alexi, slide in closer so Craig can sit with Kayla. My mother's voice pulls me from my misery and back to the funeral.
Mom makes room for me to shift down the pew toward her, and I slide obediently into the crook of her arm as Kayla's boyfriend joins our family. Even though I don't tell Mom, it feels good when her arm loops over my shoulder, and her hand gives me a little squeeze-pat that means she loves me. If we weren't at a funeral, I'd probably shrug her off. But that would be sort of selfish, since Mrs. Lennox was in Mom's prayer group all this time. …show more content…
I answer that I don't really know him. Mom points out that we have been in school together for 11 years.
I shrug. He's the Kool-Aid Kid. Why do adults always think kids should be friends just because their mothers are? Sharing homeroom and next-door lockers doesn't mean you know a person beyond his label. Across the church aisle from me is Rachel Tate, the girl whose mom did principal on Bus 32. I'm Kayla Littrell's carbon-copy little sister. Before this week, Bodee was the Kool-Aid Kid. Now he'll be the kid whose dad murdered his mom. That label will pass from ear to ear whenever Bodee walks down the hall. But now it’s a pity-whisper instead of a spite-whisper.
The music changes. There are no words to the music, and that makes me sad. Every song deserves lyrics. Deserves a story to tell. Mrs. Lennox's story is over, but Bodee might. Reaching out to him is one of those Christian things my mom talks about, but you can't share a closet and a stack of old football cards with someone you hardly know. So I say a prayer and hope he'll find a place of his own to
From Faking Normal
Black funeral dress. Black heels. Black headband in my hair. Death has a style all its own. I'm glad I don't have to wear it very often
My dress, which I found after rummaging in the back of my closet, still smell vaguely of summer and chlorine. The smell is probably just a memory.
Alexi, slide in closer so Craig can sit with Kayla. My mother's voice pulls me from my misery and back to the funeral.
Mom makes room for me to shift down the pew toward her, and I slide obediently into the crook of her arm as Kayla's boyfriend joins our family. Even though I don't tell Mom, it feels good when her arm loops over my shoulder, and her hand gives me a little squeeze-pat that means she loves me. If we weren't at a funeral, I'd probably shrug her off. But that would be sort of selfish, since Mrs. Lennox was in Mom's prayer group all this time. …show more content…
I answer that I don't really know him. Mom points out that we have been in school together for 11 years.
I shrug. He's the Kool-Aid Kid. Why do adults always think kids should be friends just because their mothers are? Sharing homeroom and next-door lockers doesn't mean you know a person beyond his label. Across the church aisle from me is Rachel Tate, the girl whose mom did principal on Bus 32. I'm Kayla Littrell's carbon-copy little sister. Before this week, Bodee was the Kool-Aid Kid. Now he'll be the kid whose dad murdered his mom. That label will pass from ear to ear whenever Bodee walks down the hall. But now it’s a pity-whisper instead of a spite-whisper.
The music changes. There are no words to the music, and that makes me sad. Every song deserves lyrics. Deserves a story to tell. Mrs. Lennox's story is over, but Bodee might. Reaching out to him is one of those Christian things my mom talks about, but you can't share a closet and a stack of old football cards with someone you hardly know. So I say a prayer and hope he'll find a place of his own to