The Truth of Me - Chapter 3
The Real Me
The morning air was crisp, the kind that pricked your skin and woke you up fully. Ella walked to school with her head high, her black dress flowing around her knees. Her silver moon necklace caught the sunlight, glinting against the black fabric. Her boots thudded with each step, grounding her.
She felt a strange mix of nerves and exhilaration. It was as if she were walking a tightrope over an abyss, balancing between freedom and fear.
The moment she stepped into the school hallway, the energy around her shifted.
Conversations dipped into murmurs. Heads turned.
“Whoa,” someone whispered.
Ella kept her face calm, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure they could hear it.
“Hey, Ella?” Tara’s voice rang out behind her. Ella turned to see her friend standing with Chloe and Becca, their colourful outfits clashing against the muted tones of her own. Tara’s face broke into a grin, though it wavered with uncertainty. “What’s with... the goth vibes?”
“Yeah,” Chloe added, giggling nervously. “Is it, like, Halloween already?”
Ella forced herself to smile—a small one, real but quiet. “No, I just felt like dressing how I wanted today.”
Becca exchanged a look with Tara, her lips twitching. “Wait, you’re serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Ella said, holding her ground.
Tara’s grin faltered, replaced by an awkward laugh. “Oh my God, you’re so funny. This is, like, a joke, right?”
“No.” Ella’s voice was steady, but her palms were sweating. “It’s not a joke.”
The girls stared at her for a moment, their confusion quickly morphing into disbelief. Chloe let out a sharp laugh, covering her mouth with a manicured hand.
“You can’t seriously think that looks good,” Becca said, scanning Ella’s outfit with a smirk.
Ella opened her mouth to respond, but the bell rang, cutting her off. Her friends walked ahead without waiting for her, their laughter fading down the hallway.
The rest of the day was a blur. Everywhere she went, Ella felt eyes on her, heard whispers trailing behind her like ghosts.
“Did you see what Ella’s wearing?”
“Is she, like, emo now?”
“She looks like she’s going to a funeral.”
By lunch, the spark of courage she’d felt that morning was flickering dangerously low. When she arrived at her usual table, her friends had saved her a seat, but the atmosphere was different.
“So,” Tara began, her voice overly bright, “when are you going back to normal?”
Ella looked at her, the words lodging in her throat. She’d imagined this moment so many times—standing up for herself, owning her truth. But here, under the weight of their stares, she felt small.
“Maybe I won’t,” she said finally.
Tara’s laughter came too quickly, too loud. “Sure, sure. You’re hilarious, Ella.”
Chloe and Becca joined in, but their laughter didn’t sound friendly. It was sharp, cutting. Ella’s stomach churned.
When they turned back to their usual chatter, Ella slipped away unnoticed. She headed straight for the bathroom, her sanctuary. Locking herself in a stall, she sank onto the toilet seat and buried her face in her hands.
This time, the tears came for a different reason.
It wasn’t the suppression of her real self that hurt—it was the rejection of it. She had shown them who she was, and they had laughed.
But beneath the sting of their ridicule was something else: relief.
For the first time in years, Ella wasn’t crying because she was pretending. She was crying because she was real.
When the tears stopped, she wiped her face and stood. The girl in the mirror looked different, even with red-rimmed eyes and streaky eyeliner. Her reflection wasn’t perfect, but it was honest.
As she adjusted her necklace, a new resolve settled in her chest.
If they couldn’t accept her for who she was, then maybe they weren’t her real friends after all.