I always knew that I was different. It probably ranges to the way I dress or the way my messy brown hair sits on my head, or maybe that I am 5'4 and

skinny, but whatever it is, it doesn't make my life in high school any better.

The day started like any other, me lying in bed, deciding if I should go to school or fake some illness. Still, whatever I came up with, it always came down to my mother telling me to suck it up and get my skinny ass ready for school. Speaking of the devil, I hear her calling my name from behind the door before throwing it open and stepping inside without a second thought.

"Steven- Oh honey, why aren't you out of bed? You need to get up so you make it to school on time," My mom said as she walked to my window, throwing my curtains open. I groaned at the sudden attack on my eyes by the sunlight. I threw my blanket over my eyes just to be snatched away by my mother, huffing at me as she tossed my blanket off to the side.

"Let's go, Steven. I don't wanna be late," My mother said, walking over to my closet and throwing it open. She peered over to my mom, rummaging in my closet, pulling out a brown button-up with black slacks and giving them a small smile facing me.

"Mom, I am not a child. You don't have to pick out my clothes," I said, watching her frown at me, placing the outfit on the edge of my bed.

"Do you think I will let my son walk around looking like some bum?" She said, walking back to my closet and searching for shoes.

"Why can't I wear something that makes me comfortable," I propped myself up, leaning on my elbows, watching my mom pull out black loafers and place them on the bed.

"Absolute not! You never know who you are going to meet, and you don't want the first impression of you to be that you are lazy and unmotivated. Do you think I show up to the firm in sweatpants and some random t-shirt? No, I do not," My mom preached. My mom is a partner at one of the best law firms in New York, miller, brown, Copenhagen, and associates. My mom is one of the best lawyers at the firm, with a win ratio of 30 to 1, I think. That is what she says when she brags about it to people outside our immediate family. So my mom always wants the best for my sister and me, but sometimes it can be too much.

"Mom, this isn't a law firm. It is high school not that important," I said, and that set her off,

"Just because you don't care doesn't excuse you from looking awful. This is an important year for you. It is your junior year, meaning colleges will look at your grades and YOU as a person. And I will ensure you get into a college, and to do that, you NEED to look your best like you belong to their school. So please get dressed, be downstairs, and be in my car in FIVE minutes. Understand?" She said, barely giving me a chance to respond before marching out the door and slamming it close. I groaned, letting myself fall back to my bed and rubbing my eyes. I felt the dread go through my body before rolling out of bed, tolerating my bare feet connecting with the cold wooden floor. I heard a vibration on my desk, and I shuffled over, looking at the lit-up screen and the notification that it was from my best friend, Tia.

Tia: Hey, are you almost here?

Steven: Nope. Still in be…Staying home.

Tia: HAHA Yeah, right, like your mom would EVER let YOU stay home.

Steven: Hey, can't a guy dream?

Tia: Hm... I guess, but not this time. I have big news to tell you!

Steven: Why can't you tell me now?

Tia: Nope, I need to see your facial reaction

Steve: Fine. I'll meet you in the music room.

Tia: I mean, I have been here for ten minutes… so I guess I can wait for another couple minutes.

I rolled my eyes and tossed my phone back on the desk turning back to my closet and marching over to it. I glanced at the clothes that my mother picked out, and I grimaced at them. I entered my closet, pulling out a plain dark blue t-shirt and ripped black jeans. My mom wants me to be noticed, but no one will glance my way unless I am on fire. I heard a honk that told me my mom wanted me to be out of the door now. I huffed, slipped on my clothes, pulled out my beat-up black high tops, and slipped them on. I walked to the mirror, gave myself a final look, blew my messy brown hair out of my eyes, and hugged myself. Feeling self-conscious, I reached into my closet and pulled out a random oversized hoodie. I slipped on the sweater and looked at it in the mirror, practically swimming in the sweater. It looked like panic at the disco sweater day, and I sighed happily and walked over to my desk because my phone started vibrating. I saw my mom texting me, telling me to hurry up. I rolled my eyes, grabbed my headphones and slipped them on my head, turned them on, and grabbed my phone and bag, strolling out the door.

I sighed, slipping into the front seat and ignoring my mother's unapproving look. Before I started playing my music and heard her sigh, saying something about my rebelling will not be tolerated by colleges. I repressed the eye roll pulled out my phone, and started to look through my phone to look for the right song. Once I found the right song and the music started playing, I leaned back and let the violins drift me away from my mother's nagging as she pulled out of the driveway.

The drive to the school was not bad considering that we live close to the school and that I have my headphone in to may the ride more pleasant. It was until I felt a tug on my headphones, and I pulled them off my head, letting them hang around my neck, still hearing the sound of the violins playing aggressively. I looked at my mom, retracting her hand while her eye was still glued to the road.

"I don't remember pulling this outfit you have on out," my mom said, glancing in my direction for a moment.

"Well, I thought this was more my speed, and it is more comfortable," I said, and I watched my mom's voice scrounged up in disgust.

"It is not about being comfortable. It is about making an impression. What would people say if they saw you wearing that?" my mom gestured at my outfit.

"Well, I would say that I am comfortable and happy," I said, and my mom scoffed at me.

"No, it says that I am lazy and I won't put effort into my life," She said, turning into the school parking lot.

"Do we have to do this every time?" I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache forming.

"Yes, I am not going to have my son walk around looking like some form of a mess," my mom huffed. Sometimes when my mom gets like this, I tend to ignore it, but her insults hurt a bit this time. So I sucked in a breath and unbuckled my seatbelt.

"I can walk from here. Bye," I muttered, slipping out of the car without giving her a chance to say anything else. So I slammed the door and sped walking toward the building. I heard my mom calling out to me, but I was slipping my headphones on, letting the sound of violins calm me down and preparing myself for a stressful school day.