Misunderstood

There are some people who are hard to understand. There are so many layers to peel back that you wonder when you’re actually going to get to the core of who they really are. It’s difficult to truly understand even one person, so how do you know who to choose? How does someone know to choose you? And when they’ve chosen, can they change their mind once they’re halfway to understanding all of your hardships?
And then there are people who are from different places, with different accents and hair colors. My hair color came from a bottle when I decided to dye it black when I was fifteen. I don’t know why I changed, just something darker enveloped me, and I became something I didn’t recognize. I embraced it now, because no one bothered me like they used to. They don’t talk to me anymore; they just leave me to my artwork, and assume that I’m going through a phase. That my home life has something to do with the way I dress, or the fact that I want to be alone with my thoughts.
The art room was my safe haven. There were people here that understood what real art was. It didn’t have to be pretty, it didn’t have to make sense, all it was was expression. My seat was in the middle of the room at a table where I could have all my things spread out. I knew people talked about how beautiful my artwork could be, and that just maybe, I’d talk to someone sometime. I listen to them admiring my work, and it makes me feel good. It makes me feel like it’s really worth it to be doing this with my life.
I pulled at the various piercings in my ears, another thing that made people uneasy about approaching me. My hair was short, spiky, so you could see all my piercings pretty well. There was a silver ring through the left side of my bottom lip that I got when I turned sixteen. I’d been tall all my life, with long arms and legs to match. I was rail thin, and I was sure that the other girls were jealous of me for that. My eyes were a pale shade of green with a ring of yellow near the edges. I would be pretty if I grew my hair out, gained a little weight and took all the metal out of my face. I’d never strived for that, because the beauty that mattered to me was in my artwork.
I closed my eyes and envisioned my painting while everyone was talking. I only bothered to open my eyes a sliver when I felt someone next to me. “May I…sit here?” A Spanish accent greeted me, one I’d never heard before. I glanced over at him. He had this crooked smile on his face, like he was actually happy to see me. I gave him a small nod and he sat down in the chair next to me. “I am new here…so I think that I have a lot of things to learn about America. I hope that we can be friends.” He extended his hand out to me, and I had no choice but to shake it.
He was tall, tanned. His curly brown hair highlighted his bright amber eyes. I swallowed. “I don’t know…we’ll see.” Later in the day I kept wondering about him. Why was he talking to me of all people? I was unapproachable to everyone else, so what was his excuse? He had asked me to show him around the school, but I’d said no. I told him to have someone else do it, someone who knew the school better than I did, who knew this town better than I did. The truth was, I’d lived here my whole life. There was no better candidate to show him around. I’d just wanted him away from me, however selfish that was.
I got into my car after school was out. My portfolio was in the passenger seat next to me, along with the painting I was going to work on and bring back tomorrow. My art teacher had always admired my work, and gave me more time to work with it than everyone else. I guess she favored me in that way, and everyone knew it too. They’d always know that that one single part of me was perfect, the part that could make masterpieces. A tap on my window brought reality back. When I saw that same guy from earlier knocking on my passenger side window it took all I had not to roll my eyes. I rolled my window down. “Yes?” I asked.
He leaned down farther to see me better. “Did I do something wrong? Have I offended you? You’re acting like you don’t want to be around me.”
I let my hands fall into my lap. “I don’t know you. I don’t even know your name—“
“It’s Gabe.”
“That’s beside the point,” I got out of the car and came around the side to stand next to him, “I don’t know anything about you, nor do you know anything about me. So what’s your excuse? You could’ve picked anyone else around here to show you around or get you familiar with America or whatever you were going on about earlier. Did you neglect to notice that people don’t talk to me around here? They don’t bother me.” My eyes were level with his nose when I stood up straight. He didn’t pick up my hateful tone, so he smiled.
“I didn’t think of you as someone that’s hard to approach. I actually didn’t notice all the piercings and your black hair and your clothes until after you had a conversation with me. I think you’re a….nice person.”
“Oh, that’s rich.” I crossed my arms.
He tried to suppress a laugh. “You are…funny.”
I looked at the time on my phone. “Look, Gabe. I really have to go…I have to be at an art museum in half an hour so—“
“Let me go with you. I’m sure that I can get to know you better that way.” Gabe grabbed my arm when I tried to get away from him. I stared at his tan fingers on my pale skin. I shook my head and pulled away. I got in my car and peeled out of the parking lot before he could tell me to stop. It didn’t make any sense. Why was he so insistent on talking to me anyway?
I pulled into the parking lot of the art museum and looked down at my clothes. I should’ve thought about changing before I got here. There was no time to do it now. One of my paintings was being shown here. My teacher had entered it into a contest, and it had gotten first place. I had to be there today, because they were giving out the awards in ten minutes.
I bounded up the stairs in a few swift movements. A doorman opened the door for me. I said my thanks and ran to the part of the museum where the contest was being held. I was out of breath after climbing two sets of stairs and running down three separate corridors to get to the show room. I tried to compose myself before slowly walking inside. There were paintings everywhere; I noticed mine first. The canvas was taller than I was and the length of a car. That was exactly what I’d painted onto it. It was an old cherry VMW bug. My teacher ran up to me in a huff.
“Where…have you…been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you Alice!” Her hand clamped around my wrist as she led me over to the judges table. “This is Alice, the girl that painted the VMW.” She motioned to me. I wanted to roll my eyes. That was all that defined me now? An optical illusion of a car that was made years ago? The judges quietly conferenced about me when my teacher led me over to the other students in the contest. They weren’t from here, as far as I could tell. They were all staring at me like I was a disease that needed to be quarantined before it spread. All of a sudden I realized, that’s the way people had looked at me my whole life. How could I live like that?
I went through the whole award ceremony, but didn’t pay any attention. My realization had ruined this whole thing for me. Sure, I’d noticed small slivers of it before, just not on a big scale. How could people who are the same as you look at you in that way? Did they know they were doing it? Or could they live with knowing that they were giving another human being judgment like that? I left the after party to go stand outside by myself. I ran my hands through my hair I frustration. This was so stupid. Why did I care? Why was I torturing myself over this? “Why aren’t you inside? Isn’t there a party going on?” His voice made me jump.
I looked over at Gabe in defeat. “What are you doing here? Did you follow me?”
“You looked sad, and this is the only museum in town so I thought that maybe…I’d come here. Is that a problem?” He leaned on the wall next to me and looked at the sky.
“You don’t even know me. Why do you care?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” He shook his head when I asked. “No one has ever bothered me like this in my life, and for good reason. I’m as scary as they come, Gabe. I’ll cast a hex on you, or whatever people say about me. I’m frightening.” I wiggled my fingers in front of my face. He laughed. He actually laughed at me.
Gabe slowly stopped chuckling. “You’re not scary. Whoever said that is ridiculous because…I disagree. I know that you dress differently, and your hair isn’t really that color but…that doesn’t make you frightening. It makes you…different from everyone else.”
I pushed off the wall without saying anything. What did he know about me anyway? Absolutely nothing. He was just making assumptions from what he saw on the outside. All he was was the new kid from a different country. “It won’t make a difference, Gabe. You’re only here for like, what, two months? That’s barely enough time to even start to get to know someone. What makes you think that you’ll get to know me huh?”
Gabe blinked the sunlight out of his eyes. “I’ll tell you some things about me if you tell me some things about you.” He suggested.
“What is there to know about you?” I narrowed my eyes. There had to be something in this for him, something that he was trying to get out of me. What was it? And why was he so eager to get to know me?


I sat in front of the mirror after heading up to my room for the night. I’d made dinner for myself since my mom wasn’t home, as usual and then taken a shower. I needed to dye my hair again, maybe over the weekend. I took each one of my piercings out, the metal clanging onto the vanity. I looked normal without all the metal, I looked like my old self. I stared at the various studs and rings in front of me.
Why did change in the first place? Why did I become this person?
I took off the rest of the makeup that had survived the shower, and looked into the mirror again. I was normal without all this stuff on my face. Why did I always insist on making myself look like something I wasn’t? There was this painting, a self-portrait we had to do in my art class. I hadn’t had any inspiration, but maybe this was it. Maybe this was what I was supposed to paint. I ran over to my sketchpad and picked up the first pencil I could find.
My painting was going to be a mirror image of myself, the person I used to be, and the person I was now. The mirror was going to be in the middle of the canvas. On one side, it would be me with black hair and piercings and on the other side, the way I looked before. I had long red hair, and no piercings whatsoever. I tried to remember what I looked like with red hair, but it just wasn’t coming to me. I had to go look in our family albums to remember. Both sides would look unsure with their hands outstretched towards the middle of the canvas, or where the mirror was going to be. I took a step back to make sure I had my proportions right.
This was going to be a great painting, but I’d never bring it to school if it was unfinished. No one was going to know about this until it was completely done. With all the components, it was going to be at least a month before it would be complete. I’d have to consider the paint dry time and everything if I was going to do it in with oil paint. This was going to be a behemoth of a painting by the time I was finished with it.
It had been a few hours and I was covered in paint. My arms had smears of blues and neutral colors for the base of the painting to make sure I’d get the shadows right. It was a little past eleven, and my mom still wasn’t home, but I expected that. It was rare that she made it back before twelve on a school night. I had no idea who she was out with, but I was sure she’d be taking a taxi home. She’d get so smashed until she couldn’t see straight. I’d talked to her about going to rehab or AA or something, but she always told me she didn’t have a problem while holding a drink in her hand. How ironic is that?
I heard the front door slam downstairs and I got up to lock my door. I didn’t want her coming in here reeking of alcohol. I’d learned to keep her out whenever she came stumbling in from her dinner parties or trips to the bar. I heard her footsteps clomp up the stairs. She stopped at my door and slurred something I couldn’t understand. I turned my light of and waited for her to think I was asleep. She turned the knob a few times, and groaned when she realized it was locked. “Let…me in…Alish. I wawnt to say good night to ya…” I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath until I heard her mumble off to her bedroom. This wasn’t life, this wasn’t living. I frowned and stared at my painting. There would be more time tomorrow to work on it.


I was at lunch that next day, sitting outside staring at the scenery. I’d put all my studs and rings back into my skin, and I tried my hardest not to think about the night before. “I realized that I never asked you what your name was.” I jumped when Gabe sat down in front of me. I’d never seen him without a grin on his face, so I thought it was strange that he wasn’t smiling. He looked serious actually, like he was insistent on having a conversation with me that very moment.
“It’s Alice.”
“I like that name…Alice. Actually I like American names in general. My mother liked them so much that she decided to name me Gabe.”
“Is there a specific reason that you’re over here or…” I wanted to tell him to go away, to leave me be. Lunch was the time I spent thinking about things. I didn’t particularly like talking to people during this time of day, not that anyone would volunteer to do that anyway. I just liked not getting looks from people, I liked that I could close my eyes and forget everything for half an hour. He was interfering with that.
“Well, after you left yesterday from the museum I went back to look at your painting. It was amazing. I actually thought that there was a car in the museum until I came up to it and realized that it was just a painting.”
“It’s called an optical illusion, Gabe.” My tone was sharp.
“You know what? I don’t think you’re as hostile as you claim to be. I think that it’s an act you’re putting on to keep everyone away from you. Why do you do that? Why do you want to keep everyone away? You are not a disease by any standard, so why?”
“There it is.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, a little confused. “There is what?”
“The reason you came over here. You didn’t want to talk to me about my freaking painting, you wanted to talk to me about that, didn’t you? You want the same thing from me that everyone else wants. They want to know why. Why do I do this?” I gathered up my things and took off in a rush. I could hear him running after me, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to stop until I was in my car, away from here.
“Alice, wait!” Gabe caught up to me and grabbed my arm, spinning me around to face him. “Let me just talk to you!”
“Why?” I screamed at him. There was no one else around to hear our spat, so I was screaming at the top of my lungs.
“Just tell me one thing,” He said quietly, “If I asked to have one conversation with you, just one…what would you say?”
“I would say let go of my arm so I can go to my car and leave…” I swallowed as tears welled in my eyes. “Why do you care so much, huh?”
“You’re different Alice…I want to know why. I know that I’m not here for very long but I think that in that time, I can get to know you. I’ll have that memory of you to take with me.” He released me, but I didn’t step away from him. Why was he saying all these things to me? He was the new kid, he could have anyone he wanted, be friends with whoever he wanted. That’s how it went when you were a new kid. You got to choose where you were socially, unlike the rest of us who’d been here our whole lives. Like me, but for some reason, I decided to change my path drastically to where I was now, careening off the tracks.
I pulled at my lip ring, still a little annoyed as to why he was here in the first place. “Fine.”
We went downtown after school to this little coffee shop that I liked. Of course I didn’t tell him that it was my favorite, I’d just said that this was one of the better ones in town. I sat at the table closest to the window, and he sat right across from me. I took out my sketchpad and flipped to a new page. When I came here, I always sat in this spot to draw people. I’d dated all of my sketches and each day I came, it was a little different. That’s why I liked it here so much. “So tell me something,” he set down his coffee, “is the coffee here always this….weak?”
I laughed a little. “I guess so. I mean I think the people here like to think they’re big coffee drinkers but in reality…they like some weak stuff. I’ve had Columbian coffee once before and…wow.” I shook my head when Gabe chuckled. The only time I’d had it was when my mom had gone out on a serious bender and it was before I’d learned to lock myself up in my room. I used to actually try to help her. She’d bought this really expensive Columbian coffee, and I’d brewed it for her. It sobered her right up, and then she yelled at me. She told me how stupid I was for wasting a whole night of alcohol, and that there was no way she’d get that drunk again in the same night, otherwise she’d end up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning.
“The people here…most of them don’t drink that strong of coffee for pleasure…do they?” Gabe asked quietly.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I couldn’t tell you,” I lied.
“That’s not your natural hair color is it?” Gabe leaned forward and pulled some strands loose from behind my ear. “I’m going to take a guess that it’s…red.”
I raised my eyebrows. “How did you know?” I asked.
He sat back down in his chair. “I can see it through all the black when it’s in the sun. Why don’t you let it fade out? I’m sure it would look better—“
“How would you know something like that? You have no idea what I look like with red hair Gabe.” What did this kid know anyway? It’s not like you could see the red very well anyway. I always took into account that red always bled through hair dye, so I always dyed my hair twice. Could he really see it that much?
“I think that I can imagine what you look like…without all the piercings and the black hair. You used to look like anyone else…but I guess not now huh?”
I stood up. “Come on, I have something to show you.”
I drove down the street to my house like I’d down several times before. I’d lived in the same house all my life, had the same bedroom since I was born. It had been repainted so many times, almost too many to count. Before my mom started drinking she used to get me whatever I wanted, now she didn’t care as much. She barely even batted an eyelash when I took money to get things I needed. I pulled into my driveway and turned off the engine. “Is this your house?” Gabe stared at my two story house, the one that looked so pristine on the outside.
“Yes, but most of the time I’m here by myself. What I have to show you is up in my room. Come on, I don’t think we have a lot of time before my mom gets home.” I took his hand when we got out of the car and ran up the stairs with him stumbling behind me. I pushed my bedroom door open and went towards the easel in the corner in my room. I pulled the sheet off of it and stepped back so he could see my painting.
He walked up to it, a little hesitant. Gabe reached out to touch it, but thought better of it. He pointed to the right side of the painting. “This is you…isn’t it?” I nodded when his eyes met mine. “You were…beautiful so…why did you change?” His question shocked me a little. It was the first thing he said about it. Not that he liked the painting, or where he thought there could be improvement, but he knew it was me before he asked.
“I don’t know. There is beauty in everything…but I think I needed to change to realize that—“ I heard the door slam downstairs, and alarms of panic pinged in my head. She was home earlier than I had anticipated, so there was no way to get Gabe out of the house in time.
“Alice? Alice, where are you?” My mother called.
“Oh my God…Gabe stay here.” I started towards the door, but he stopped me.
“What are you doing? Can I meet her?” His eyes were hopeful.
“Just promise me you will not leave this room until I say so ok?” I searched his face. He nodded and let go of my arm. I shut my door quietly and went down the hallway. My mother was at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me with this look on her face. She looked angry.
“Is there anyone else in the house? I heard voices.” She crossed her arms and came up the stairs. I took a step back. She was drunk, but not enough to where her speech was slurred. This was when she was the most dangerous; when she could function with alcohol in her system. This was when I should be in my room with my door locked, refusing to let her in.
“Um, no. I was just on the phone…I was painting so I had it on speaker phone. I—“
“You’re lying to me, Alice. Who else is in the house? Tell me or I’m going into your room to find out myself.” She was standing in front of me now at the top of the stairs. I gripped the post, my heart racing.
“No one.” I said firmer.
She grabbed my hair and pulled me closer to her, to where our noses touched. I tried not to cry out, but it hurt so much. Why was she doing this to me? She’d never hit me before, let alone grabbed me by my hair. So why now? “You a little liar. How would your father feel, hmm? To know that he helped raise a little liar, and a thief too.”
“He wouldn’t know because you kicked him out.” I spat at her.
“What did you just say to me?” Her eyes narrowed.
“You heard me, mom. All you wanted was to win…so that’s why I’m here. If he wasn’t such a pushover he would’ve fought for me, and I would be there right now wouldn’t I? Admit it; you’re using me to hurt him.”
“You little…” She held back from finishing her sentence, and instead, released me. She gave me a little shove though, and that was enough for me to lose my footing, and tumble backwards down the staircase. I felt each bump and sharp edge until I rolled onto my side at the bottom of the stairs. The black spots faded from my vision, and I realized that my shoulder hurt really bad. I probably separated it when I fell. When she pushed me down the stairs. I wanted to cover my mouth in horror, but I couldn’t move.
My own mother just pushed me down the stairs.
I cried out in pain, but my mother didn’t come to me. Instead, she stepped over me and went out the door. I waited until I heard her car peel out of the driveway to start sobbing. I screamed Gabe’s name. He bounded down the stairs and collapsed by my side. “What happened? Did you fall?” He asked.
I shook my head. “No. She pushed me.” When I tried to sit up I cried out again.
“Don’t try to get up, Alice. I’ll call someone to come and help you. One of my foster parents is a doctor so I think that I can call her and get her to come over here. Yes, where is your phone?” I pointed to the home phone over on the coffee table. He didn’t leave my side the whole time he was making that call. He helped me over to the couch to sit while we waited for his foster mother to get here. My whole body ached, but the only serious damage was my separated shoulder. I was sure that I was going to have a lot of bruises after this.
When Gabe’s foster mother got to my house she said that I was lucky to have escaped with just a separated shoulder. She said that the fall could’ve broken my neck. That if I’d have fallen at just the right angle that it could have landed me in a coma. I didn’t tell her that my mother had pushed me down the stairs. I just said that I’d tripped and fallen. Gabe didn’t say anything either, and I was glad for that. If he had, I was sure that I was going to have a far worse night. This was all I could deal with, at least for right now. When his mother went into the kitchen he grabbed my hand. “You have to tell someone, Alice. This isn’t ok.” He whispered.
I tried not to bust out in tears. “She’s never done anything like that before. I don’t think she’ll do it again, not as long as I’m in my room when she’s here.”
“You can’t hide in your room for the rest of your life. That isn’t right Alice! You tell Lisa…or I will.” He pointed to the kitchen. I stared into the distance. He was right. I couldn’t walk on eggshells anymore. I couldn’t live like this anymore. Lisa came back and sat down in front of me. “Alice…” Gabe touched my leg, prompting me to say something.
I took a deep breath. “Lisa….I didn’t just fall down the stairs. Gabe was here to see my painting and my mom came home. I told him to stay in my room because my mom…she’s an alcoholic. We were arguing and she grabbed me by my hair and when she let me go…I fell. She pushed me down the stairs. When I cried out for her she stepped over me and left.” My breathing was short, labored. Had I really just said all of that? Had I really just told this woman that my mom was insane and tried to kill me not even fifteen minutes ago?
Lisa covered her mouth. “I thought that maybe there was something you weren’t telling me because the way you separated your shoulder doesn’t match up with the way you told me you fell. She pushed you? Do you know where she went? Can we call police and have her arrested?” She asked.
I shook my head. “You don’t have to do that. Just…I was wondering if I could stay with you for a few days? To get this whole thing figured out? I need somewhere…safe. I don’t want to have to lock my door at night anymore.” I started crying before I could get it all out. I stood up once I stopped crying and headed upstairs to pack some things. When I came back down my mother was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, just like before. Gabe ran past my mom and to my side because I was shaking so much.
“Alice…where do you think you’re going?” She crossed her arms. Gabe carried my suitcase down the stairs and I stepped around my mother. She wouldn’t dare hurt me in front of people. I wouldn’t let her.
“I’m going with Lisa and Gabe for a few days. Don’t wait up.” I said. She grabbed my wrist and scowled at me. She was drunk off her ass; I didn’t care what she had to say to me.
Lisa pushed her away from me. “I know what you did, and that’s grounds to get you fired from your position at city hall, Ms. Roland. I think it would be wise if you let your daughter come with me.” Her tone was sharp, and it cut through the tension in the air. I was relieved that she could say what I couldn’t, defend me when I had no words. My mother gave me one last scowl, then let me go. Gabe put his hand on the small of my back and led me out the door. I was free…for once in my life.
We didn’t talk the whole car ride. Gabe drove my car since I was still in a lot of pain. Lisa had popped my shoulder back into place before my mom had gotten there, and Gabe held my hand the entire time. I hadn’t objected to that, and I wondered why. When we arrived at his house I realized how much it looked like mine. His house was across town, and I was relieved. My mom would have slimmer chances finding me, but I doubt she’d even start looking. She didn’t want me telling her boss that she pushed me down the stairs and nearly killed me. If I had fallen at a slightly different angle, I’d be dead right now. Something made me glad that Gabe was there to help me, that he knew what to do.
Lisa told Gabe to take me up to his room while she figured something out. I assumed that she was going to call someone at city hall to tell them that my mother had done something terrible to her daughter. He closed the door when I sat on his bed. His room was neat, more organized than I would’ve expected. “Are you ok?” He asked.
I shrugged, or as much as I could with an injured shoulder. “I think I will be. I just have to give it time.”
“What did you say to her to make her snap like that?” He sat down next to me. I got up and went over to his dresser because having him so close made me uncomfortable. I took out each one of my piercings with my back to him. The metal clanged on the surface of the dresser numerous times before there weren’t any more to take out. When I turned back around Gabe’s jaw dropped.
“I look normal without them right? Is that what you’re going to say?” I asked quietly.
He shook his head. “I think those make you who you are, taking them out makes you less. Sure it looks different without them in but…I liked them. I thought that it made you unique. I’ve never seen anyone with piercings like that all at the same time.” His answer shocked me. What did he know anyway?
“I’m leaving them out for now. They start to hurt after a while.” I shook my head, which messed up my hair. I flipped my hair out of my face and sat on the bed next to him. “I want to paint.” I said.