Monologues, Short Stories, And Other Lil Trinkets

By Kyla Simon
The Walls That Heard Everything
I had trusted her. With every fiber of my being I had trusted her. She was like a sister to me. She was. My whole life she stood by me. Through thick and thin, rain or shine, flood or drought. Who was there to walk her to the nurses office when she fell off the monkey bars and broke her arm? I was. Who was there when her first boyfriend Joshua (who I secretly disliked anyway) cheated on her? I was. Who was there when she spontaneously decided to paint her walls pink? I was. And those walls are still pink. Pink and filled with secrets and hopes and wishes. From sleepovers and study sessions and rants. From FaceTimes and text messages and hangouts. Those walls were there through everything. She was there through everything…she was there through everything…So as I stare at her, my body trembling and my eyes welling with salty tears, staring at her while she glances down at her phone with an evil smirk. The only shaky words that can come out of my mouth are “...how could you?”
"What Else Did You Think White Elephant Was?"
“Hey, Suze, when’s Portia getting here?” Neil asks, sitting down on the couch next to me. I look up from my phone, puzzled by the text I just received.
“She said she’s coming back from the airport and will be here in a few…” I read from the text. Neil gives me a confused look. “Airport? Did she go on like, a work trip?”
“No.”
“Vacation?”
“No. I checked her Google Calendar and she doesn’t have any trips planned.”
“How do you have her Google Calendar?” 
“ ‘Cause I have her Google account password.”
“How-?”
“Shhh,” I say, giggling before pausing. “I’m worried though…she’s been gone for a couple weeks and every time I text her, she tells me not to worry about it.”
Suddenly, the door swings open and in walks Portia, wearing cargo shorts and a white tank top, her nose red from the cold. 
“Portia, where the hell have you been?” I yell. 
“Africa.” She says, her voice shaky from the cold. Neil immediately takes off his suit jacket, wrapping it around Portia’s shoulders. I make a space on the couch for her.
“Why the hell were you in Africa?!”
“Cause I was trying to find a white elephant, duh.” She looks around the room. “Damn, I guess no one found one either. I guess that makes me feel better about myself.”
I slap my hand to my face. “Portia, did you seriously think that White Elephant meant actually finding a white elephant?!”
“...what else would it be?”
I sigh heavily. “Port, you are an actual idiot.” I take a breath, still trying to comprehend this. “White Elephant is where everyone brings a present and we draw numbers. You can steal presents from each other or picked an unwrapped present.” 
Portia freezes. “Ohhhhhh.”
“How did you even think they were gonna let you bring a white elephant on the plane, let alone purchase one?” Neil asks.
“Honestly, when I bought those plane tickets, I was running off of impulse and a Dunkin iced coffee mixed with a 5 Hour Energy.’
I sigh again. Portia pulls out an ornament from her short pocket. “You think this would work for the gift exchange?”
I examine the ornament: it seems to be handmade, with intricate wood detail. I smile softly. “Perfect. C’mon, I think Bea has some extra tissue paper and gift bags.”
And well, maybe Portia couldn’t bring a White Elephant, she did leave with a nice bottle of Rosé and a ceramic statue of a goose.
"When You're Older"
When I was 5 I watched as my mother applied blush to her cheeks and lipstick on her baby pink lips, and mascara on her eyelashes. I don’t know why she did, she was beautiful without all that makeup. But she just laughed and said “You’ll understand when you’re older. When I was 7 I asked my dad why I couldn’t marry him. All the other boys at school were yucky and tackled each other to the ground playing football and played in the mud and teased the girls playing hopscotch on the blacktop. They were gross, unlike dad, who was kind and loving and would never treat someone like that. But dad just chuckled and said “You’ll understand when you’re older.” When I was 9 I sat on my sister’s bed. She was sixteen and besides my mom, was the prettiest girl I had seen. She paced the room and told me all about high school and how she was so excited to go to college, where all the adults went. She talked of moving away to some faraway place with her boyfriend, who unlike her, I didn’t like. I didn’t understand why’d she want to leave. From the movies I watch on TV, high school seemed exciting and fun and the idea of leaving home seemed frightening. She just simply sighed and said “You’ll understand when you’re older.” 
Well now I’m older. I now understand why my mom wears makeup every day,  it’s like a shield, a barrier from the harsh outside world. Putting it on is like enhancing myself. I now understand why I can’t marry my dad and only want to impress the boys that used to cackle and play flag football and play in the mud. They still play football but now they’re changed, matured, different. I now understand why my sister wants to leave; high school is hell. It’s nothing like what Troy and Gabriella made it out to be. Everyone’s staring, everyone’s judging, everyone hates everyone. So until my 2 more years of this hell endure, I’ll put on my make up, try to get Bryce or Marcus or even Landon to look at me, and wish I never had to understand.