19 January 2013
"AIBILEEN!! Get down here this minute!!!"
I sigh, dropping my hands down to my sides, digging my fingernails into my palm. "NOW!"
I gaze at the computer screen, almost surreally. I never listen to my mother. She thinks writing is unhealthy for a 13 year old, that I should spend time with my non-existent friends. I spend nearly all of my time writing my book, rarely bothering to finish my homework. So obviously, I'm not on very good terms with the teachers.
The way they shoot frosty daggers across the classroom at me makes it clear they can't stand me. I am an adults worst nightmare, Aibileen, the cheeky, insolent, mouthy, just plain rude, little brat. That's me. I have a bad name around town, and intend to keep it that way. It gives me privacy, no one
pries into my business,well at least no one pries into my business without getting a nasty remark shoved right back down their throats. Nobody knows that I am an author. An author of what, I'm not sure, but an author all the same. They don't know what I do in my own room, but writing? The thought would never enter their heads, maybe sulking, turning rock music up at full volume or something like that would, but nothing anywhere near the truth.
Introduction - Aibileen • Opuss № I