In the sixth grade, she hid her multicolored blouse in the drawer beneath her bed and didn’t take it out for two years. It was one of those hideous things that only a mother-who- did-not-understand would buy. The blouse was black, silky, covered with red yellow orange and brown designs resembling globs of snot. Scraggly black frills covered the long sleeves and low neckline. She hated it, but her mom would not budge. She had to keep it, so she put it in a place her mother would never find it.

In the seventh grade, she and her older sister went to Marshall Fields to buy clothes for the new school year. Her sister told her to only get “cute” clothes so she can look really pretty and have a lot of friends. She looked through the racks and came across a pair of dark jeans to the dressing room. Her sister approved. She looked at herself in the triple-sided mirrors. If her sister approved, then she did too.

In the eighth grade, she made fun of Kishan who chewed on his shirts, so did her friends. He wore multicolored shirts to school almost everyday. She and her friends only knew that Kishan was short, plump and had funny habits, so for the entire school year, Kishan was the brunt of several jokes; he never complained. When someone said that Kishan ate rocks for dinner, he painfully laughed along. When someone drew a cartoon of Kishan as a shirt eating monster, he chuckled quietly. When someone grabbed the book Kishan was about to reach for, he smiled and found another one. They all thought it was funny, but she knew he didn’t.

In the ninth grade, she followed her sister into a dimly lit room with tables adorned with wine table cloths and floral garnishes. She wore a short, black cotton skirt with white lining and a maroon cashmere sweater. As they followed the tall, uniformed waiter to their table, her sister told her to walk with more confidence, so she held her head high and put a little “oomph” in her step. She heard laughter coming from behind her and turned around to see a man in his twenties with soft hazel eyes and strong facial features. He was laughing at her. She hurriedly turned back around and followed behind her sister closely, putting a little less “oomph” in her stride.

In the tenth grade, she rushed home lightheaded with deep bags under her eyes. After she exasperatedly threw her backpack to the ground, she noticed her sister scrutinizing her. She had only gotten four hours of sleep the night before and the next morning she had barely woken up in time to grab her purple sweater from seventh grade, a dark pink collared shirt, gray dress slacks, and pink and grey gym shoes. Her sister did not approve. She shrugged her shoulders, walked to her room and shut the door behind her.