It's My Year

This isn't my first book. It's actually my third but who cares. It's just that this book cover says 'Myqueens26', while the others say '25' I just wanted to clear that up. My name has meaning so, my queen turned 26 the other day 🎊🎉🎊😍😍😍, 4/9, so that means my name changes and I'm too lazy to change my other book covers so they are staying until I'm bored enough to change them. So yes, my name is going to change every year, as long as I'm still alive.

I doubt anyone would read this but I just feel like writing these days. So... enjoy! Hopefully.

Also this book contains swearing and the use of the word 'nigga', so if you are uncomfortable with said word, do not read this book because I hate when people get sensitive and I don't need sensitivity in this book, so spin your roll and leave.

Happy reads!

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Now my beautiful queen is 29. Oh, how the time flies.

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Staring at myself in the mirror, I twisted a little to the right. I've been doing this for half an hour now. I'm trying to see what everyone finds so repulsive about me. I'm not ugly, that's for sure. I'm just fat.

As they say.

I'd woken up, taken a shower, and put on some underwear. And as I was getting ready, I walked pass the mirror and caught a glimpse of myself and just couldn't look away.

I was big. I had a nice body, but no one at school ever seems to think so. It's pathetic that I'd even need their approval, but I can't help think that. A couple of guys have complimented me a number of times throughout my life, sure. Okay, more than a couple -- a lot of them have -- but they don't count, they're just guys and that's all they see anyway. And it's not that I'm ungrateful for the gesture, but during this time in my life, I'd like to go through high school with friends, and enjoy even that small parts of it, instead of people hating me for something as small as weight (let's ignore the fact that I'm big).

My C cup didn't hold my boobs as comfortably as they did about two months ago, which tells me I'm going to have to switch to a D very soon. Then there were those curves and that dip in my waste. My mother said I got it from my grandmother on my dad's side. She's right, my grandma does have a lot of curves, my mom does does too, just not like me. Girls at school would tell me how fat I am and how unhealthy it is; that it's not "attractive". I try to brush them off and make it seem as if I don't care, which half the time I don't. I don't know why they don't like me but I don't really care about that. I don't care if they don't like me, I just want to finish high school like everyone else without being put down and dragged for no reason.

My head tilted to the side as I watched myself in the mirror. My hand came up to tap my stomach. It's not flabby. I do have that pouch thing going on, but it didn't bother me. I drop my hand to grope my thigh. Now those are huge. I love them anyway. I have a thing for my thighs, it's weird. I just find them incredibly sexy. I turn to the side and slap my but that's hanging out - it already swallowed my underwear. I giggle when it starts jiggling a little. I love my butt.

If anyone sees this, they'll be certain I'm crazy.

I bring my arms up and wrap them around my torso. I love myself but no one else seem to. They can't stand to look at me, even though I think I'm perfect. The only people that seem to love me for me is my parents and that's their job. I'm still happy that they do though. They're kinda my best friends. Best friends that I can't talk back to or give attitude, along with other things that are considered disrespectful.

No one appreciates me. Not even John.

My boyfriend.

I started dating him just before my freshman year because of my parents. My mom more specifically, because he was the son of one of her closest friends. My dad didn't want me dating at such a young age because I was his little girl -- I still am. He gave into my mother's pleas because I guess she told him how much I liked him. Something I didn't think would skew my dad's decision when it came to stuff like boyfriends. John was really nice, though. At first.

Thinking about it now, it was so weird. Mom didn't actually get on her knees and beg, but she talked Dad into it. I think our moms had saw our futures together with wedding bells and white dresses and their chance to be actual sisters, so they jumped at the whole matchmaking thing.

I did like John, I won't lie. We didn't have a choice but to hang out whenever his family came over every weekend, or we went to theirs. So we'd find various ways to entertain each other. Along the way, feelings got involved. It was pretty obvious that the moms were plotting and it worked, because we ended up liking each other, and that's where it all started. I told my mom he asked me out, she talk to my dad and yeah.

Just before summer John and I were dating for about two weeks. He was always nice to me and got me gifts and took me out. I'd thought he was the best boyfriend at the time. Then school came around and I thought things were going to get better, they did. But after a week, he started changing. He'd call me names, make fun of me with his friends, and even pulled a couple of pranks here and there. They were harmless. I never left him though, he was still John and I didn't want to disappoint my mom. She really approved of him. And he was still so sweet to me. There were those times where I'd see a glimpse of the real John. The John that I fell for. He was still there. Only, he came out when his friends weren't around.

I sighed, "Why can't he love me?" I whisper to my reflection in the mirror.

"Grace!" My mother yells from downstairs.

"Yeah!" I answer, my arms still wrapped around my body.

"It's almost time to go!"

"Man," I mutterred under my breath.

Hurriedly turn to start getting dressed, only to freeze on the spot when I looked out the window. My neighbor, Arthur, was staring at me through both or open windows.

Arthur Kingsley was one of the most popular guys at our school, he was known as a 'golden boy', which he really wasn't. He had a short temper and would beat the living daylights out of anyone who pushed him too far, or worse, he'd curse them out. And believe me, getting beat up by Arthur is much better than getting embarrassed by him. He's never talked to me before but sometimes I'd catch him staring. On rare occasions, like the way he's staring at me now.

His eyes never stopped moving as he kept looking me over, like he's trying to memorize every part of my body. I was waiting for him to give me the look that everyone usually does and I have no clue why. I should run and cover up before he even gets the chance because like I said, no one wants to be embarrassed by this guy. But I stood frozen, waiting for the look that says, 'you're disgusting', but it never came. He took in every curve and indent of my body. Surprisingly, I felt a wave of warmth run through me at his heated gaze.

Finally getting myself to move, I marched over to my window. His eyes glued to my chest and I felt heat rush to my face.

"Don't look at me." I hiss at him. I saw him smirk in amusement, before I pulled the dark curtains.

That's what I get for never closing my curtains.

I turn around, my breathing heavy and my face flushed. That's not a look I get everyday. What kills me is that I feel a satisfaction, that him of all people looked at me like that. I'm used to almost never getting compliments and people asking me if I ever thought about working out, so I was always covering up. I wore long sleeves and sweat pants, because jeans and t-shirts show more and no one wants to see that. Not even my boyfriend.

"Crap my boyfriend." I quickly walk to my bed and started getting dressed in the dark ripped jeans, button-down, and vans I picked out.

Today marks my first day as a junior and I want to look nice. I really don't care anymore. I'm going to dress how I want to. I made a promise to myself that I'm not going to give them what they want anymore. I'm doing everything for me now.

I get dressed in five minutes. I decided to leave my hair natural this time. I have very curly hair. No one knew that because I always had it in a bun, and straightened. Not anymore. I also dyed it last night. Now it has a burgundy color. I've always wanted to do it. My make up was done light, and smile at myself in my full length mirror, feeling comfortable. Finally

No more giving them what they want Grace. It's you're year.

"It's my year." I get up, taking my American Eagle bag and jogging out of my room and down the stairs.

"Morning, Mami." I say as I enter the kitchen. I place a kiss on her cheek from behind. She's standing by the stove making breakfast.

"Morning, babe." She turns and places a loud kiss on my cheek, making me grin widely, "You're looking good this morning."

My eyes narrow at her, "What are you trying to say, mother?" I kept my eyes on her back as I slipped away and slid onto one of the bar stools around the island, behind her.

My mother is a very attractive woman. She has light brown eyes and dark, bronze-colored locks. Both of which I inherited, but almost everything else, I got from my father. She has this light mood that she seems to give off to everyone around her. Sometimes. The other 90 per cent of times she's strict, strict, strict and mean. Just mean. But she has a really pretty smile, at least when I see it. That's if it's not attached to a string of Spanish threats that come right before something's chucked at my head unexpectedly. She stands around 5'9, with olive-toned skin that just looks amazing under this kitchen light. Why is my skin not that clean? But in that description, there's the one thing I got from both my parents; my height.

"Oh nothing. Just good to see you dressing like a person now. I was honestly getting tired of those sweats. I hated that you were hiding those curves." She replies without turning around, "Some mornings Andrew had to drag me away from you before I could threaten you to go back upstairs and put on something sensible."

I pouted, rethinking all those times I saw my dad pulling her to the next room without explanation, or covering her mouth whenever I'm running late and have to leave without breakfast. "Well you didn't say anything." It's true. If she had the slightest problem in the past, she never showed it. No matter what, she was always okay with what I wear as long as my butt wasn't hanging out or something.

"That's because I wanted you to be comfortable, babe. For the most part, anyway. I didn't want to force you into something you're not comfortable in."

Well this day's just getting better, I thought, smiling. "Thanks, mom." My eyes started searching  around the kitchen, before I asked, "Where's dad?"

"Right here!" He walks into the kitchen with a huge smile, his big brown eyes twinkling as he ran a hand over his low beard. "Just waited for you to ask." I turned away before I roll my eyes at his ridiculous sentiment of always having to be wanted to be somewhere. Like, this is your house. "Morning, love." He rounds the island to give me a hug and kiss on top of my head, then turns to Mom, "Hey, baby." He whispers to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Morning." She turns her head to give him a quick kiss, but he deepens it before she can turn away.

Grinning like a cat, I took my phone from the small part of my bag. I've always loved it when my parents are like this. Sure it's super awkward sometimes, but I prefer this than not seeing them together at all.

I turn the camera on and a sounding 'click' goes through the room when I took the picture. I stare at the picture and let out a soft 'aww' at how cute they are.

"Lock screen." I mumble to myself, smiling.

"You're a weirdo."

I look up at my dad with a big smile, "And who'd I get that from?" I teased, glancing back and forth between the two.

Immediately both their hands shot up, pointing at the other, making me laugh.

A honk sounds outside and I scrambled, getting up and dragging my bag over my shoulder. I hurriedly give my parents both a kiss on the cheek, before I started leaving.

John doesn't like waiting. He throws a huge fit when I take too long to get ready.

"Grace, get your ass back here and come eat this food!" My mom shouts after me.

"I'll eat it when I get home from school!" I call back over my shoulder. I reach the front porch just as John starts honking again. "I'm coming!" I shout at him, locking the door after me.

I'm right in your line of sight, you big nat. You can't miss me.

I get to the car and get in as quickly as I could, only for him to start yelling.

"How many times do I have to honk Grace?! I tell you all the time to get your lazy ass up earlier! But..." I lean my head back on the seat, closing my eyes as he kept yelling at me, calling me names, insulting me. I'm tired of it.

He always does this. He yells at me if I'm not in the car the second he pulls up. He yells at me, for taking my time getting ready to look presentable for him. He just yells at me for everything. And I'm not going to take it anymore.

"You're like a fucking sloth in an elephants body-"

I slam my hand down on the dash board and turn to glare at him, "You know what!" I shout at him. I stared into his shocked eyes and paused for a second. Rethinking what I'm about to do. He can get better. He's not like this all the time. But it's the times when he's like this that affects me most. And I can't take it anymore. "Do me a favor and don't pick me up again. No- do us both a favor, John. And that goes for everything else, since I'm such a burden to you." I open the door furiously and start making my way back up my walkway, toward my front door.

"No- Grace! Grace!" He shouts after me but I'm done with him.

I opened the front door only to see my parents making out by the stairwell like a bunch of teens. Normally, I would've cooed at the sight or tease them or something, but I'm too pissed to care.

"I broke up with John." I voiced as I pass them, making my way to the garage, "Can you open the garage door?"

"Wait. What!?" My mom shouts.

I wasn't in the mood for her rambling questions, so I just kept walking. It's easier since she didn't verbally call me back because if she did, I wouldn't have a choice but to go back. They're scary when they get serious.

"Finally." I heard my dad say, causing a smile to slip onto my face. I knew he never liked him but he was good at hiding it. Sometimes. "What? It was bound to happen."

Their conversation cuts short when the garage door slams shut behind me. I reached into my bag to get my keys as I walk over to my BMW, unlocking it and smiling at the sound before I got in started it. I can't tell when was last time I drove it, but I always kept the key in my bag. John never wanted me to drive myself to school, I don't know if he forgot that I could drive or he likes the fact that I depend on him, I've never really thought about it. Now that I have, it's pretty messed up.

I press my forehead to the steering wheel. The funny thing is, I'm not sad about breaking up with him. I've always sat and waited for him to break up with me, since it looked like he disliked me that much. But he never did and I thought I was never strong enough to do it myself. But I am. And I did.

"It's your year, Grace." I smile at myself.

The garage door slowly starts to open and I knew my dad was the one who did it. my foot eased onto the gas and it was such a foreign feeling I was scared I'd get in an accident. As I drove down the driveway slowly, I passed John rushing up to my front door. He stops when he sees my car and sprints toward it, almost falling on his face. He starts hitting the glass, telling me to wind it down. I ignored the desperate look on his face and pull onto the street. Feeling liberated.

This day is still getting better.

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Worse part of editing; losing all my comments.