She looked at me, her eyes red and swollen.
"How dare you say that? Barbiee, I know I told you everything about myself, but you haven't been at this school long enough to understand what I'm going through. This always happens to me, whether I'm right or wrong. Chloe says I shouldn't have hung out with him in the first place. How on earth would I know?" She yelled, her voice trembling with frustration, but she still wasn't grasping my point.
"No, I'm not saying you shouldn't have hung out with him. And I'm not even talking about all that drama. I'm talking about what's been happening to you for a long time—the name 'Ugly Duckling,' the way you accept it. Griz, it takes a pretty girl to recognize another pretty girl. Nikki picks on you because she's jealous of you," I said softly. She rolled her eyes and went back to painting.
"See, she has to go through a million things to be 'beautiful' and do all kinds of crazy stuff just to be popular. I get it, because of my mom," I added, and she stopped painting, her brush hovering mid-air.
"My mom—the one everyone thinks is perfect—was a lot like Nikki, except she didn't bully anyone. She had perfect hair, perfect clothes, a perfect smile, perfect makeup. But she never got to show how she really felt, because being 'perfect' meant always smiling and hiding your emotions. She dated Ken—not because she loved him, but because he was the 'perfect' guy. To be the perfect girl, she had to have the perfect boyfriend, no matter how she felt inside. But my mom was never happy. She kept wondering who she really was behind that mask. Then one day, she broke free from it, fell in love with my dad, and that's how I was born. That story was meant for Nikki, but it applies to you too. I know deep down, you want to stand up for yourself, to show people your true talent, to be free. Stop letting what others say define you. Do what fulfills you now—so you won't regret it tomorrow."
I hadn't planned this speech, but the words poured out naturally. If this didn't convince her, I didn't know what would.
"Thank you, Barbiee. That was wonderful. And I'm sorry for saying those mean things to you," she said, pulling me into a hug.
"Oh, you're going to stain me!" I joked, and we both laughed.
"Why don't I make my art debut at school?" she suggested, a spark lighting up her eyes.
"Yes! And why don't we sneak out at night and place one of your portraits along the school walkway?" I proposed.
"Deal. Let's find the best one," she smiled, and we laughed again.
As we searched for the perfect portrait, I teased, "That reminds me—your dad is dating someone, right? Why did you get so mad?"
She laughed. "It's normal to be mad—especially that he lied to me. But it's all good now. He thinks I didn't open the door because I was mad, but the truth is, I was fast asleep." Her funny tone made me laugh so hard I nearly cried.
After we picked the portrait, I called my mom to let her know I'd be back late.