Copyright 2011 by Yari Garcia
Hi, my name is Neon. Don’t be fooled by my cropped, chopped, and multi-colored hair. Don’t be fooled by my baggy pants and the fact that I hit like a man, or the fact that my breasts are the size of acorns. I’m actually a girl. I like to spell it Grrl.
But that’s not important. Let’s get to the nitty gritty. I just moved to this stupid suburbia about a month ago. In my home town of Satsuma, Alabama, I was a beautiful freak. Here, in the outskirts of a major city I hate so much I’d rather not mention, I blend. Blend, blend, blend. I hate it! What was once my unique and personal statement is now drowned by the locals. They’re a parade of people who try to one-up each other on who can look the weirdest.
So how am I to get John Cooley’s attention?
I wondered that for the first week of school, while I was still going through the culture-shock of not being stared at. Of not being pointed at or outcasted. I walked down the hallway of the school, which looked more like an enormous mall, with the one friend I had made. Well, sort of. This boy with stringy green hair and baggy jeans decided to attach himself to my hip and follow me everywhere, constantly. I didn’t mind. He made me crack up every time he stumbled on his overly-baggy jeans and face-planted on the floor. Or the pavement. Even once in a huge pile of dog crap.
“Seth”, I moaned as I helped him up from the ground for the hundredth time, “You know, the trend is skinny jeans now. Not those old baggy Jncos.”