My only thing I remember of my birthday last summer was seeing my extended family surround me in a never-ending bubble of suffocation.
Everybody was there. Mom, Dad, Uncle Domingo, Aunt Lexus, Aunt Samantha, cousin Morris, and, of course, me. The only ones missing were my other three aunts and uncles, and Mallory and Spencer, who are currently enrolled at Fort Starch Military School.
Mom offered to let me go there, too, but I politely refused.
“Sorry, Mom. I’d rather stay here in Sunset Valley than go to a high-end, rigorous military boarding school. You know that I’d never make it in,” I explain to her.
She looks at me, bewildered at my honesty.
My name is Janessa Pfeiffer. I’m the third heiress of the Pfeiffer family, born with the “curse.”
Janessa Pfeiffer | Child | Gained Never Nude, Artistic, Friendly
Mom asks me later why I’ve decided to wear gloves with each one of my ensembles. The answer she’s expecting–“I don’t want to end up like Grandma.”–never comes. Instead, I tell her my truthful explanation.
“I don’t know. They just seem… right.”
To be perfectly honest, I don’t particularly like my parents. Frankly, they work too much and never give me any attention. I have an uncanny way of knowing how people feel: obviously, they wish I would go off to boarding school so that they could romance each other and focus on their work without rampant children around.
Mom and Dad both work as Patrol Officers at the Police Department. Unfortunately, Mom used to be Dad’s boss, but now he’s hers, because her maternity leave added up a lot. However, Mom’s pretty sure she’ll get to the top level of the Special Agent branch, being immortal. Not that she told me that.
Mom’s also a patronizer. I don’t know if she realizes it, but every time I do something even remotely wrong, she takes me upstairs to tell me off.
“Now, Janessa, you know that it is wrong to put shower dye in the water. Please apologize.”
“I don’t see what’s wrong with it. It washes right out,” I tell her plainly, but she shakes her head and leaves the room. She’s disappointed with the one child she’s raised, I think to myself.
My first day of school was “disastrous,” as Mom put it later.
“Janessa, it is time for you to board the bus. It is eight,” Mom calls.
“I don’t want to go to school,” I say, walking upstairs to go to my room.
“Janessa…” Mom says. Alarm bells seem to go off in the room.
“Well, I don’t,” I say, shrugging and changing paths to go to the easel.
“You need to.”
She takes me by the shoulders and steers me down the stairs, down the hall, down the path, and into the school bus. Snickers arise from the back, but I carry my lavender bag onto the bus with dignity and poise.
I sit next to a black-haired boy, stepping over him to take the window seat.
“Hey!” he exclaims.
“Yes?”
“What was that?”
“I stepped over your legs to sit by the window. Is that a problem?” I ask calmly.
“Um, yeah! Who are you, anyways? You don’t look familiar.”
“Janessa Pfeiffer.” I hoist my bag onto my lap and pull out Jordan, my pink Wugglesworth Snuggles Bear that I got for my sixth birthday. Jordan and I have been a happy couple for years.
“You still play with stuffed animals?” he snorts. “Hey, everybody! This Pfeiffer girl still plays with stuffed animals!”
Laughter arises from the back, but I shake my head. This is why I prefer my imagination to actual socialization.
It’s true. While other kids my age would prefer to romp around outside and play tag with their BFFLADAEIBFEs, I would rather play with Jordan. We have wonderful tea parties together.
Having submarine adventures are also fun.
Oh, and don’t forget those joyrides and presiding over royal courts! Once, I used one of the chairs at the chess table to call upon my subjects. Mom wasn’t very happy.
“Janessa! Please get down from there right now. I need to practice my Logic to get a promotion,” she shrieks.
I jump down with a sigh. She never lets me have any fun.
When events like this occur–which is often–I usually walk upstairs to paint.
The easel used to be Dad’s, but he never uses it anymore now that he’s throws himself into his job 24/7. Painting brings me peace. Whenever I start to feel stressed out about school, I paint. When my parents yell at me for disturbing the quiet of the house, I paint. When I’m bored, I paint. When Jordan and I have an argument, I paint.
Painting is fun.
There’s another option, when I get tired of painting; playing with Ivan.
Ivan and I just understand each other. I’m not a Dog Person, like Dad, but Ivan and I have a deep spiritual connection that he shares with no one else. I’m not quite sure why he likes bugs, though. I think they’re disgusting. When Ivan got fleas, I stayed away from him for two weeks straight to be sure that they wouldn’t flock over to me.
One day in class, Ms. Ford flips her long black hair and sashays over to my desk.
“Janessa, I see that you haven’t filled out your after school activities form yet. Is there any problem that I can help out with?” It’s amazing how she keeps her pearly white teeth showing even when her blabbering mouth is closed.
“No. I don’t really want to join an after school club,” I tell her, returning to my work.
“We offer lots of clubs,” she begins. “How about ballet?”
“I want to join scouting,” I finally say, looking up at her. “But it’s boys only, which is extremely sexist and biased.”
“It’s not–”
“It is, though,” I say, smiling a little. I don’t mean to be rude ninety percent of the time, just honest… but now is one of those ten percents.
She looks at me, her smile fading.
Ten days later, I go to my first scouting lesson after school.
I don’t let anyone push me away from what I want to do.
Blessed Curse 