I am your average seventeen year old girl; well at least I think that. I’ve been blessed with the most normal life one can imagine. There’s nothing special about me, no hidden talents, what you see is what you get. I’m ordinary looking, with ashy brown hair that makes it to my shoulders, and eyes the color of dirt. I tried out for the play once in middle school and I didn’t make it. I used to play soccer but I got cut from the team sophomore year. I do well in school and my love life is non-existent. I spend most of my free time texting, eating, and sleeping. The only people I text are my two best friends (I think that’s what they are) Dominique and Lola. At least I have their lives to spice up mine somewhat. To make my life even better, my name is Jane. What rhymes with Jane? Plain. My parents definitely planned that one out.

Tomorrow is February 13th; finally my eighteenth birthday has arrived. It’s not like I plan on buying a pack of cigarettes, or going to a strip club; but there’s something freeing about turning legal. Maybe I’ll go to a nightclub. I mean I live right in the heart of Philadelphia and I’ve yet to step foot into anything that requires a valid eighteen and older ID. Everyone else I know has been borrowing the ID’s of their friends since they were fifteen. I guess you can call me a sissy. I like to refer to myself as “extra careful”.

A beautifully piercing noise rang through the classroom. Dismissal. Thank the Lord this Thursday is over. I slowly picked myself out of my desk and onto my Converse adorned feet.

“Bye Ms. Benevolent see ya tomorrow.” I yelled on my way out the door.

“Be safe students! Don’t forget there’s a quiz tomorrow on the next three chapters of The Great Gatsby.” Mrs. B sang in her cheerful voice. She was the epitome of the perfect teacher. Her wardrobe was adorned with light pastels and eccentric florals. Platinum blonde hair sat upon her head in a precisely placed chignon, which was always adorned with some sort of flower pin. She was one of those teachers who genuinely cared about the well-being for her students. There was only one student in the history of Mandela High School to ever erupt the wrath of Mrs. B: it’s known to be something that should never be tried again. Like everyone else, I had to agree that she was my favorite teacher in my high school career. Her personality was contagious.

Dominique and Lola were at their usual spot waiting for me at my locker.

“Hey Jane you excited for your b-day tomorrow?” Dom said while punching me in the arm.

“Yeah I guess, I wish we could go out and do something.”

“I got work like usual ‘till eleven” muttered Lola. Of course. That’s all the girl did in her spare time, other than using the money she earns to buy things like drugs and high-end clothing. I was never fond of her obsessions with either. I just didn’t see the point.

“Well if I didn’t promise Ted that I would have dinner with him at his grandparent’s house you know I would be celebrating with you J. Ugh, I’m sorry.” Dom explained in an attempt to apologize. Ted was her bodybuilder boyfriend. I call him “the bicep”. The only thing that Ted’s more obsessed with more than working out is Dom. Ever since Dom and Ted’s relationship began two years ago my social life plummeted. I was always closer to Dom than Lola. Dom is one of those girls who is friends with everyone. Don’t get me wrong, I loved hanging out with her when we were closer, but she was also my ticket to every party I ever went to. Without Dom my weekends consisted of watching Gossip Girl.

I just stayed silent and walked with them to the sidewalk. My house was the closest of the three of us. I lived in an old brick row home just two blocks away from my high school on Sixth Street. The sky was a dark blue and the sun was concealed. The ancient buildings seemed to look more distressed than usual. We made small talk about possibly hanging out Saturday. It looked like a slim chance that anything would actually go on since it was Valentine’s Day. Work would be “busy” for Lola and Dom most likely had planned something with Ted months ago. Even though they promised they’d hangout later in the day, I doubted it.

I opened my heavy front door.

“Jane! Look what came in the mail today!” My mom screamed from the kitchen. My heart dropped. It can’t be. I ran towards my dining room table and found a big white envelope. In the corner of the envelope was the small red and blue symbol. I tore the seal off as fast as I could and ingested the contents of the letter.

“Mom I made it! I got in! I was accepted to Penn!” I guess the past couple years of doing nothing but staying home had come to my interest. I never took into consideration how well my GPA and SAT scores had benefitted from my lack of a teenage life. Wow. A sense of accomplishment smacked me in the face. Fresh hot tears ran down my cheeks. My life was made.

“That’s amazing Jane, I’m so proud of you. We are going to have to talk with your father about it when he gets home.”

“What do you mean? I told you, this is where I want to go Mom. It’s not your decision; it’s not Dad’s decision. This is my future.”

“Jane... please...” I ran upstairs before she could finish her sentence. I couldn’t stand my parents. I blame them for everything. So instead of fighting with them, I just don’t talk to them anymore. I haven’t had a decent conversation with either of my parents in years. In middle school the primary conflict was that I wasn’t allowed to have sleepovers. Their excuse was that they “didn't know my friends or my friend’s parents.” So while everyone else was busy making their future cliques, I was busy being picked up at 8 o’clock from every slumber party. When I reached high school I was never allowed to be out past eleven unless I was sleeping out. If I was sleeping somewhere, my parents had to know whose house, and had to talk to an adult that would be there. Do you know how many parties in high school actually have a parent present? Absolutely none. So since freshman year I’ve been to a total of three parties, what a thrill. Here I am senior year, I’ve been accepted to an Ivy League and they are still unsatisfied. Their main concern is it’s “not affordable”. Are you kidding me?

It was these issues with my parents that I believe induced my depression. My family had a history of depression, so all I needed was one small incident to spiral me down into the illness. They didn’t put together the pieces until I threw up one day after dinner. I had lost twenty-five pounds in one month. It took that episode for my parents to realize that my dropping grades, and silence was a big deal. Little did they know that I had a suicide plan. A plan to get away from my lonely middle school life. I called it my “mission”. But before I could execute my mission my parents had me sent off to a psych ward and hooked on anti-depressants. Sure enough I was back to being somewhat-stable. I wasn’t suicidal. But I wasn’t normal. I turned into “plain Jane”. I felt no emotion. In fact, I felt nothing at all.

I locked myself into my room, snuggled myself under my covers in fetal position, and put my headphones in. When I opened my eyes, it was nine a.m.

“Oh my god,” I jumped out of my covers and ran outside of my room. “Mom? Dad?” Silence. I walked downstairs and on the table was a card and a dozen of my favorite donuts. Oh yeah it’s Friday, which means it’s my birthday! I took the envelope in my hands and slowly opened it. The front was adorned with vibrant red and yellow roses that wrapped around the words “Happy Birthday” like flames. On the inside of the card was $100, a scratch-off lottery ticket, and a note:

Dear Jane,

Happy eighteenth birthday my darling look how big you have grown! I’m sorry you had to go to bed on such a bad note. We will talk about that situation another day. I thought you would like to sleep in on your birthday, so don’t worry I already told school you were sick. We will have your favorite dinner tonight. Call your mother when you read this. Love you so much





xoxoxo, Your Mother and Father

My parents may get on my nerves but they do know me pretty well. Money and skipping school have always been my two favorite things. So with that, my day was already off to a wonderful start. I called my mom and surprisingly had a delightful conversation with her. While I sat on my couch watching Good Morning America, I scratched off the lottery ticket with a penny. It was called “Triple-Six”. If you found three sixes in the ‘your numbers’ box, you won the prize. Simple as that. I scratched the whole lottery ticket before I even evaluated my numbers. Okay one six, two..... THREE. What? This can’t be. My eyes darted to the prize box. It was a number that consisted of six zeros. Six million dollars was all mine.
*
One Year Later

The biting wind assailed every inch of my skin that was exposed. The campus was deserted, for it was nine a.m. on a Saturday morning. Coming back from the Office of the Provost, my head was notably clouded with thoughts. The fresh white envelope from the Dean was clutched in my hand and concealed by my right sweatshirt pocket. I wonder what Mrs. Benevolent would think of this. I wonder what kind of impassioned expression would cross her face. I looked up; my feet had taken me to the University Post Office. I mindlessly headed to my personal mailbox. There was nothing inside but the same yellow envelope I had sent away just a few days ago.

“What?” I whispered in puzzlement. The letter that I had sent to Mrs. Benevolent was marked with a big black stamp that said “Return to Sender”. She always answered me back. Why wouldn’t she tell me if she was going to move? Did something happen to her? I closed my eyes, and held back the stinging of tears. I sluggishly threw Mrs. B’s letter out in the trash bin. With a deep breath I headed out of the facility.

There were more students out already despite the chill that the winter clouds had cast about the campus. I knew every single person whom passed by. Everyone reacted to my presence in the same way.

“Hey Jane!” they would say in an overly excited tone. I just gave a crooked grin and a wave.
“Jane, Happy Birthday!” I stopped and turned to the voice coming from my left. I knew the face but what was her name again? Crap, this is embarrassing.
“Hey, thanks..,” I awkwardly tried.
“It’s Liz, remember? I’m in your Bio class,” That was it! Yes.
“Yeah! Liz, wow, sorry I’m like half asleep. But thanks really,” I said.
“No problem, have a good day.” Liz said before bouncing on her way. I just stood there smiling like an idiot. Eventually an uncontrollable laugh erupted from my core. I forgot it was my own birthday. Isn’t that something a seventy year old man in diapers should be doing? My hysteria was disrupted by a vibration. For once I had forgotten my phone was with me. I had four text messages, two missed calls, and a voicemail. A text from Mark, Steph, and Trish. Everything else from Damon. Uhg. Leave me alone. I locked my phone and stuffed it back into my sweatpants pocket. The last time I saw any of my friends was a week from today. I had a boisterous party like usual in my extravagant apartment. It was located on Broad Street in Center City, brand new, and fully furnished. People flocked to me. Or better yet, people flocked to the things I owned.

My feet were leading the way again and before I knew it I was in the Woodlands. In front of my toes stood the cold grey headstone, I just stared; like I always did. I wonder what lead to this, this life to be gone. One day you’re filling your lungs with the crisp world around you, and in a flash you're not breathing in anything, in fact you’re not breathing at all. One thing, the smallest mistake, and it’s all gone. Or maybe, this was how it was supposed to be. The way it ended up happened exactly as planned. It was your fate.

I noticed the Dean’s envelope still glued to my right hand in my jacket pocket. I already knew what waited for me. My life here was over. I had gotten the warning after my first failing semester. But ever since multiple busts of my drug and alcohol filled “underager-ragers”, I was screwed.

The money stole many things away from me: my mother, who committed suicide, my life which once consisted of a purpose, and my soul, which lost the power to live on. It was there, in front of my mother’s headstone in the Woodlands Cemetery, that I decided, on this day, February 13th, my birthday, I would complete my mission.