[a few weeks after school ended]

It's a boring summer Tuesday.

I mean, Tuesday.

The forgotten day.

My plan was to stay in bed until 10 am but my mom had a different idea.

"Odila!"

"Whattttttt??"

"Don't shout! Get up."

I grumbled to Rory, my cousin. Honestly, I couldn't even tell what I was saying, but I think it was something about her shouting first. They shrugged and kept reading.

Yawning, I ran a finger threw my hair and ran downstairs. Mom was drinking her coffee at the table. Steam trailed off of the cup like an octopus tentacle.

"Yeah?" I asked, still a little annoyed.

"Can you get me milk? We're out." She put on that puppy dog voice when she wants something. I sighed.

"Ok." 

"Thank you. Money's in my bag. Five dollars should be enough."

"Thanks." 

I get the money and change. My eyes are still bleary, glued together by the eye mucus that builds up in your sleep. I learned about that in science. 

Yawning again, I grabbed my coat and put on my shoes. It was windy, cold, and foggy. Typical San Francisco. Walking down to the corner store, the wind wakes me up a little. By blowing in my face. I regret having long hair. I finally reach the store. It's not even warm because they sell ice cream and leave the door open. 

I walk to the refridgerated area and found the milk. There was a lady paying at the counter with a little girl holding her hand. I got in line and stared at the floor. I heard the girl whisper and I looked up because little kids whispers are non-exsistant. She was pointing at me. The mom told her not to point and our eyes met. 

Her eyes carried pity.

Cheeks burning, I look down at my hands. At all the spots.

I wish I could hide myself. I wish I could change how I looked.

I wish I didn't get pity for having vitiligo