The morning is cold. How odd the overcast skies compliment my mood expertly.  “Have a good day,” my mother says to me, forcing a smile. Her eyes are red and puffy as they have been for weeks. I close the car door without saying anything; I know there is no use in lying. I walk to the school doors, breathing heavily. My locker is down an entire hallway, meaning I will be forced to walk through an entire hallway of sad stares, whispers, and maybe even the dreaded “hello.” I open the heavy doors, immediately watching the ground. I walk along the wall silently. I don’t watch my peers, but I can feel their stares. This wasn’t the Erica they knew, bubbly and bright, but did any of them truly expect the Erica they knew?

I can see someone walking towards me. Bailey. She is older than me, popular, and not a girl that normally gave a second look at measly seventh graders. I look up to see her face with the same expression I’ve seen for weeks.
A look of pity.

I hate that look.

Bailey walks towards me and gives me a hug; my arms hang limply at my sides. “I’m sorry about your brother,” she whispers. Ah yes, my brother. My birthday twin brother. My birthday twin brother with the bright spirit and happy smile. My Birthday twin brother with the bright spirit and happy smile who committed suicide. That brother.
My eyes burn. My chest twists. I keep my eyes open wide, urgently trying to dry them. I will not cry for them. I force a smile, though I know it can’t be more believable than my mother’s this morning. “Thank you,” I say, pulling away. I look around to see everyone smiling that stupid pity smile.

I tried to be invisible. I tried to disappear in the shadows. But this is not the Erica they know. If I ever want to be ignored, I have to pretend to be the Erica they know. I smile as I walk down the hallway, knowing the smile wasn’t reaching my eyes, knowing my chest was still as empty as the first day I lived without my brother on this Earth.
The hugs and smiles are frequent, but by the end of the day they dwindle. They knew me. They saw my smile. They did their charity work and wished me a happy day. Now they expected me to obey their wishes. I try, oh heavens I try, but I can’t. Instead I walk along with my friends. I listen to their empty drama and meaningless rants. Despite my façade, I know that I am different. I don’t care who is dating. I don’t care what one girl said to another. I find myself unable to listen along and pretend that I find substance in their talk. I want to tell them their problems aren’t real. I want to tell them that what they are saying won’t matter in a year, month, or even in a week. It won’t matter. None of it matters.

I am not the Erica I know.