BETA
That morning I wore my lucky Einstein T-shirt, black pants, and black tennis shoes just like the ones that Toby always wears. It was sweltering hot out, so I opted for just a blue button-up shirt over my T-shirt. Lately, the weather had been changing suddenly, so I tucked a coat away in my backpack, just in case.
"It never hurts to be prepared."
I flossed and stole a bit of perfume from my mother's room. I needed all the help I could get. Of course, since I never wear perfume, I sneezed for around five minutes.
"How do people wear that stu!! every day?" I took a better look at the offending bottle. "Oh, carnations!"
I was allergic to them, the poor perfume was not to blame.
While I combed my hair, I repeated my speech at least four times while fixing my ponytail. For some reason it just didn't seem straight enough no matter how many times I tied it up.
"Great, wasting your time on !ashion and hairstyles, huh?"
That annoying military voice of Brie. She had always been the bitchy one. And to say the least, she wasn't that happy about my fixation on Toby.
I have this way of seeing the world. I don't see it from one set of eyes, for three other pairs help me see the complete picture of my life.
They are like the sisters I never had and always wanted, but living inside me. Brie is logical and rational. She's the one that sets the "right" way to do things, which invariably means no frills, all focus, and absolutely no fun.
"You weren't going to !orget about me were you?"
I wish I could. She was the temptation. Elle was the yearning for the explosive euphoria of pure emotion and gratification. She was the ying and yang of love and hate. No, I could not ever forget about her. She is always there, deftly thrusting and parrying with my logical self, my stern and severe self.
Then there's the balance. The circle that encloses them, stuck in the middle. The referee, Gabe, who has the last word of who to listen to in the end.
When I was younger I once kept a dairy in the different voices. It looked like a train wreck of words and sentences without authors. It all made sense to me, though. It wasn't until middle school, when my diary was read by a nosy friend, that I learned not everyone had these voices. She called me psycho and told some of the girls at school that I was on my way of becoming an axe murderer or something worse.
I burned the diary and never wrote anything about my personal inner life ever again.
"No evidence, no witnesses."
After that I tried to ignore them, thinking they weren't good for me. After several months I realized they weren't bad. They weren't telling me to do bad deeds or driving my insane. They were just keeping me company.
"It's not like Mom could be there for you."
For a matter of being accepted by my peers, and to avoid getting locked up in an asylum, I just kept it to myself at school.
Ironically, I decided to trust my mom once with my secret. Although she was pissed off at the girl in question, she told me that she was right about this not being normal.
"Great choice of words coming from her."
She mentioned that maybe all that science was affecting my brain. I guess she thought I was going to end up like her.
"I will never let that happen."
I can't complain about the extra help, though. Listening to them - Brie, especially - has really gotten me far. I got first place in the science fair of two thousand, the first place in the regional science fair in two thousand three, and also in two thousand five and in two thousand