When's the Big Day?

When's the Big Day?

A Story by Iris Jayne

It's time.


            Today’s the big day.

            For the first time in her life, she applies some blush and strawberry lipgloss. She can’t get enough of the feel of the latter rolling against her lips, so she puts some more.

            The headband, don’t forget the headband.

            Today’s the big day. She’s a different person now. She’ll be a different person from now on.

            Different as in better, of course. Way better, you know?

            She signed up for the school paper editor-in-chief position, and she has been imagining her name on the staff list for years now. It is a little high school dream, common and insignificant to others, but a big step for her.

            She has been on the sidelines too much. Watching, giving the applause, never actually getting the chance to be in something. The chance. Or maybe the guts. Yeah, it’s probably the guts.

            She’s always been afraid of failure; she doesn’t like being laughed at, she doesn’t like her weaknesses to be exposed. She played safe.

            But it wasn’t right, and it took her a while to realize how dull her life has been. Playing safe doesn’t get you anywhere, except on a constant loop of fake smiles, repetitive routines, and mostly, regrets.

            It could have been me.

            I wish I’d have done it this way.

            I deserve that.

            I’m way better. Why didn’t I audition?

            Why didn’t I apply?

            Why didn’t I…?

            I might have…

It could’ve been…

            It should have been me.

            And she’s tired of it. Now that she’s a senior, she had to get out of the damn loop.

            She walks down the hallway, feeling uncomfortable at first, for questioning stares and looks of surprise greets her.

            Is that you?

            Yes. It sounds like a question, so she repeats. Yes, it’s me.

            Wow. You look…different.

            She musters a smile. Good different, I hope.

            Yeah, they agree. Good different.

            Something unclenches within her. Her confidence rushes in, and the feeling is spectacular.

            Thank you.

            She spends the day with a newfound perspective. It feels great to be there, co-exist with others, talk, get noticed, mingle. She’s done being the shy, quiet girl. She has so much to offer the world, and she will be generous.

            Starting with that editorial position.

            For she got it. She really got it. Her name is there, sitting on top of everyone else’s. The staff list, just as she had always imagined. It’s tangible now, for her to stare at without closing her eyes. It’s for everyone to see.

            Her name on that list is like an announcer saying it’s on.

            Like a whistle signalling the start of a game.

Like a point catapulting her whole life into something meaningful.

            Finally, she knows who she is. She knows where she belongs, what she wants, who she will be. All because today, her name is on that list. A material proof that it’s never too late to break through, that she can be anything, and that the loop can be broken.

            She leaves with a smile and a skip on her step.

The list remains there, on the bulletin board, just a piece of paper with random names pinned up. Only two out of ten people who passed by spare it a glance, and only one of the two reads everything.

A sophomore girl widely known by her batch mates as The Invisible stops and looks at the list.

No one knows her real name, no one talks to her, and no one cares to try and do so.

And standing there, her eyes locked on the name of the new EIC as if it’s staring back, no one would ever bother to ask what she is thinking. But no one also expects that soon, they all will be dying to hear what she has to say.

Tomorrow’s my big day.

Tomorrow, I’ll be different.

Tomorrow, it will be me.



© 2010 Iris Jayne

Author's Note

Iris Jayne
It's that sort of story that you suddenly imagine and you had to write it immediately. It needs some finetuning...a lot of it, actually, but I hope you do get the message. It can be shallow for some, but it will mean something to people out there who still have not figured out how to break out of their shells. It's time! Break away. I, and all the other people who believes in and loves you, say you can do it. (:

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this is so good. i can see her with my eyes right in front of me.

''But it wasn’t right, and it took her a while to realize how dull her life has been. Playing safe doesn’t get you anywhere, except on a constant loop of fake smiles, repetitive routines, and mostly, regrets.''

It takes a lot of courage to go up, take that difference and accept what we knew we deserve.

It takes a lot of self-realizations to leave behind what we have loved, but was not always enough. To put the minor life we've been comfortable with to achieve what is beyond normal, for grander things and meanings.

Thumbs up.

Posted 7 Years Ago

This is a very good write. (: The message within is one that touches my heart, because to put it simply, this is my wish. To Gain the self-confidence it takes to be different than what I am now, the quiet-shy girl who never speaks, yet she's really smart. All she does is read. Haha, that's me and I loved this piece. Great write for a first draft.

Posted 8 Years Ago

I think many of us - especially myself - can relate to this. While it does need some polishing it's remarkable for a first draft, off the cuff writing.

I don't feel the subject matter is 'shallow' at all. It's the subject of most writing: Coming into being. Just because this is set in a high school or college and just because the narrator is doing something 'small and insignificant' (she's not curing cancer or anything) doesn't mean that the emotion isn't significant. For many of us, it's the moments in our lives that are declared insignificant or shallow, the decisions that we blow off, are the ones that haunt us.

Very good write.

Posted 8 Years Ago

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3 Reviews
Added on September 17, 2010
Last Updated on September 17, 2010


Iris Jayne
Iris Jayne

Candon, Philippines

Sometimes I think I babble too much. more..

Love. Love.

A Poem by Iris Jayne