Beauty and the Beast



    I'm far from pretty. In fact, you could say I'm the total opposite of pretty. I have straight, brown hair that's either frizzy or greasy or both. My eyes are the warm, brown, inviting color of... mud. I'm too short, could stand to lose ten pounds or so, and I have no chest to speak of. But the worst things about me? My glasses. My super-thick, clear plastic-framed, goggle-like coke-bottle glasses. They were the only kind that fit my perscription, the optometrist had said. They were my curse. I've had pairs like these since I was really young.
    Nobody really talks to me very much. It doesn't really bother me. I'm used to it at this point. Whenever I do talk, it's usually only to stick my foot in my mouth. I tend to stutter hideously when I get nervous, and most of the time I never really understand what everyone seems to be making such a big deal out of anyways. I don't watch- what is it, "Gossip Gals?"
    My nickname is "the four-eyed beast." Everyone in my school uses it, to the point where I answer to it. If anyone ever called out to me, that is. Which they don't. Name is courtesy of Clara Bonnefort- you know those cheesy high school movies? Where there's that one girl that's the "queen of the school?" That would be Clara. She once made up nicknames for everyone in our fourth grade class. I had gotten my glasses the day before, and I was teased mercilessly about them. Clara thought they made me look funny, like a bug-looking, four-eyed fly monster. And that's how I came to be called the "four-eyed beast."
    "Hey four-eyed beast, eat any garbage lately?"
    "How's living in a dump, beast?"
    After that, no matter how hard I tried, I didn't fit in. Indeed, I couldn't fit in. So I gave up. Why would I bother? It wouldn't work anyways.
    Time passed, and nothing changed.
    Then I met him. His name was Jean, and he was an exchange student from France. When I met him, he had been here for a week, and he didn't speak much English.
    I honestly have no idea why the school assigned me to be his guide around the school. It was probably because he was taking the same classes I was, and because my father was from France. But my father was away on business mosre often than not- he couldn't help me with Jean as i stumbled through "bonjours" and "si'l vous plaits." Jean wasn't too thrilled at being stuck with a four-eyed beast. I wasn't too thrilled about it either, at least at first, but- he was the first person I had talked to in what felt like forever.
     I don't really know when we started becoming friends. With no one to talk to other than each other, I suppose it was inevitable. We had the strangest, most amusing conversations- about everything from Voltaire to why the called them "French fries" when they were, apparently, from Belgium.
He could make me laugh, and I could make him smile. Me! Make someone else smile! It was amazing, glorious, thrilling!
    Maybe that was when I knew that I loved him.
    But it would never happen. Jean was beautiful. It's an odd word to describe a boy, I know. But he was, with golden hair and gray eyes and hands- his hands fascinated me. They were so delicate-looking, with long thin fingers, and they looked so soft. I liked to watch him gesture with them as he talked.
    Of course, he didn't go unnoticed. Clara soon caught wind of the new French exchange student and one day flitted up to us as we were on our way to history. Jean was in the middle of telling me a story about the time when his uncle mistook the dog for a chair when Clara appeared right in front of him and said-
    "Voulez-Vous couchez avec mois?" Jean looked taken aback.
    "What?" he said, clearly stunned. Clara smiled at him innocently.
    "It's the only thing I know how to say in French," she said innocently. Inside, I raged, but I put my head down and said nothing, gripping my books.
    "Really?" he said, laughing, "C'est saunser. That's funny." She smiled and blew a kiss to him.
    "Until tomorrow," she said, and sauntered off.
    She was true to her word. She showed up the next day, and the next, and the next. Each time, she would say something flirty and witty, and Jean would laugh and then leave. I withdrew more and more. I'll admit it- I was scared of her. Why would a beautiful person like him want anything to do with a beast like me?
    Clara was not at all pleased by this turn of events, however. And she brought in Eric.
    Eric Smithson was six foot five, two hundred and thirty pounds, and acted like it. He liked Clara, but she pretended that she didn't notice, and in doing this got him to do all the little nasty jobs she wanted him to. And right now, she was displeased with Jean for not falling for her.
    They stopped us on the way to P.E.
    "Move it, Beast," Eric ordered, shoving me out of his way. I stumbled and fell, but stood up again in time to see Eric talking to Jean.
    "Clara is angry at you. In fact, she's heartbroken that you don't seem to like her the way she does you. Now I think that's a mighty cruel thing to do to a sweet young girl like her." Jean opened his mouth to reply, and Eric knocked him out cold.
    I froze. What- What could I do? Could I help him? Was it better to just leave him? What- What did I owe him? He didn't love me. That was obvious. Yet... he would love someone, someday, even if it wasn't me. He could still be happy. Not so if he was Clara's emotional plaything. He- well, not to be melodramatic, but Eric would probably rim him apart. No one was in the hallway. No one was passing through, and no one would interfere with Clara anyways. No one could do anything. Except me.
    I took a deep breath and stood, my mind made up. Love was worth getting hurt for, certainly. All those tragic lovers of legend- Romeo and Juliet, Hero and Leander, Pyramus and Thisbe. This, unrequited as it may be, was no different.
    For the first time in a long, time, I found my voice.
    "L-leave him a- alone," I said, shaking. Eric turned in the middle of aiming another punch.
    "Don't get involved in this, Beast," he said.
    "I said, leave him alone!" I shouted again, stunned at how confident I sounded like. Clara and Eric looked taken aback.
    "Beast," said Clara," get back." I stepped forward instead, between them and Jean.
    "Don't call me beast!" I shouted. "My name is Isabelle!" Eric took a step back, shocked at my temerity.
    "You can lose everything right here, beast," said Clara slowly. "Don't be stupid." I laughed. I laughed! At Clara!
    "What is there to lose?"
    "He doesn't love you! He never will, not a beast like you! Why would you risk getting utterly beaten, getting your life ruined, for him?"
    "I know that," I said, smiling beautifically. "But you don't understand. Anyone you've ever felt attracted to liked you back. Anyone you've ever 'loved' was your possession. You were still the most important thing in the world. You don't know what it's like to have that change. It isn't about me! He is free!"
    And with that, I stepped forward and leaned close to Clara, so close that I could see her eyes over my thick, hated glasses.
    "Go. Now," I ordered, and she fled, Eric following. I turned, satisfied with myself, and fell flat on my face. There was an ominous tinkle fo broken glass. I sat up hurriedly. My glasses!
    Someone gripped me under the arms and set me on my feet. I turned and squinted.
    "Jean? Is that-"
    "Isabelle? Belle, are you- are you okay? Did he hurt you?" I shook my head dazedly.
    "I'm fine. My glasses..." Jean held up the shards.
    "These?" he said. "They're useless." He threw them in the waste bin. All of a sudden, he wrapped me in a hug.
    "My god, I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you!" he said, holding me. I blinked.
    "Wait. You mean you-"
    "Isabelle, you risked getting brutally mauled for me. I- I like you. A lot? Do you?"
    "I- you- I'm- I'm the four-eyed beast! Why would you like me? I'm ugly!"
    "No," he said softly. "You aren't. Look at yourself," he ordered, spinning me around to I could see myself in the window. I gasped. Who- Who was that? She was... Well, she wasn't a beast. "You were so caught up with how you thought you looked you didn't realize you could change. And you can change! Look at yourself!" I stared, absolutely stunned. The he hugged me again. "So... do you love me?"
    I was no longer a four-eyed beast.
    I took the hand of my beauty and nodded.