GENRE: Contemporary YA
Sixteen year old Adele has the singing voice of an angel and the broken heart of a girl who hates herself.
I stare into my closet full of clothes. I reach up, ruffle the tags and wince. So many clothes and I've never worn 99% of them.
My mom calls from the kitchen, "Dell, let's go! You're breakfast is sitting here!"
"Crap," I say and just grab my usual jeans and t-shirt. I sprawl across my bed and suck it in so my zipper goes up. The motion is memorized, as in my hands could do it if the rest of me was sound asleep. But even sleeping can't stop my pain. Some mornings I just lie in bed and let the dark pain sit on me. Holding me down. It's bottomless, heavy pain. So deep I swear it's in my skin.
I hate myself.
I'm a big girl. You know the kind of fat girl when people say, "But she has such a pretty face."
Yeah, that's not me.
I'm fat and what you might call man'ish looking. Well, that's what Taryn Anderson said to me in sixth grade. She said I was man'ish looking. She said this while looking right at me; she didn't even have the decency to say it about me. No, she said it right to me.
My eyes are close together and my hair - which is brown - is in between curly and frizzy which equals the worst hair possible. My nose is wide in the wrong places and my lips, well, my lips don't exist. At all.