Manicured Nails

• Sejung Park, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2009

I was once one of those people who would wake up to a new day, leaving my worst fears behind, and get through the day as if nothing was troubling me. I was one of those people who believed that things would get better. Now, when I take a glimpse in the mirror, I don’t know who I am anymore. I was a manicured nail.

I walk past the fancy nail shop that is just down our street. Every day after school, I peek in at the selection of fake nails that are pressed against the window. They lure customers, knowing that their intricate designs and perfect shape would be able to hide any imperfections. I’d want something, anything to cover up my life. Something to hold the broken pieces together. I can make your life look as if it was normal, I imagine it saying.

“How’s your mum?” I recognise the voice immediately but don’t turn around. His words are daggers. The sarcasm in his voice pierces the part inside me which makes everything hurt. But I show no emotion. This act comes so easily now.

“You have to stop all of this.” I turn around and stare directly at his brilliant blue eyes. My eyes pierce into his and challenge him, daring him to say further than he already has. When he doesn’t say anything, I turn around but wait.

“I know why you stop here every day.” He pauses, taking an unnecessary deep breath.

“You’re still hurting. Something died with you the day your mum passed away. Something changed inside you. So you tried to cover it up-you were trying to make your life normal. But you can’t do that anymore.” Jayden looks down, then back up at me.

“One day, that mask is going to fall off and everyone will see you. They’re going to see that raw pain, that uncontrollable anger, that undeniable frustration.” He lowers his voice. “Most importantly, they’re going to see that patience and strength within you.”

“Strength. Right.” I snicker and look away at nothing in particular. I check my nails, fidgeting. Fake nails hold only for a short while, I thought. They fall off, they break, they’re unpredictable. It’s time. Time to show the real me. Time to peel my fragile, unstable layer off. Show what’s underneath. I’m so tired of pretending.

I stare at his retreating figure. I’m so sorry, I whispered. I know you want to help. But not right now. There’s another reason why I come here so often. Something I’d been meaning to do for a long time. I walk into the shop and ignore the glares of the customers. Hidden away at the back, a sign on the door read ‘COUNSELLOR- DR. TERESA PALMER.’

“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asks sweetly.

“No. But I’d like to make one.” Here I go. Plunging into the unknown headfirst. Again. I laugh. It’s so typical of me.