Back to a
place I
know well
by
Annabelle
Hall,
3rd formD
read. Sheer dread. Yet
again, I have been
informed that a beneficial
visit to the orthodontist
would be appropriate; in
other words, a place
considered to be known as my second home is
waiting for a duty call. After visiting Rob
numerous times over the past two years (each
occasion completely draining Mum's pockets of
cash), I have incidentally given up on the entire
braces palaver. There is no point. Not one
part of me indicates that this trip is going to be
worthwhile.
Mum doesn't feel the way I do, and I quite
honestly don't understand why that's the case;
it's her who gets the short straw. As she belts
across Salisbury Plain with ease, she sighs as
she straightens her back into what looks like a
very upright posture - unlike mine, a teenage
slouch, something she's constantly nagging me
about. She looks as if she's ready to accept
something whilst seeming quietly satisfied -
not what I was hoping for on an occasion like
this. Today, I'd rather she'd burst into flames if
it imbued me with any hope of putting the
orthodontist days as an experience of the past.
She brushes her hand through her wavy hair
whilst I yawn profoundly. I glare at the fields
of dazzling yellow crops, which seem to be
leading on forever.
"Annabelle, please put your hand over your
mouth," she sighs, "and it's really not attractive
watching somebody yawn …"
"I do, I just forgot!" I exclaimed. It was nine
o'clock in the morning, and if this were any
other morning in the holidays, I'd still be sound
asleep.
A few minutes later, she yawned. It was as if
she literally hadn't closed her eyes in weeks.
I look at her in deep disapproval, and after an
awkward silence, we both burst out in laughter.
"Mum, you're such a hypocrite!" I shout
instinctively.
"My hands are on the steering wheel - I've got
an excuse," she mutters after a moment's
silence, feeling rather defeated.
Now this isn't the first time I've recalled
incidents like this; but all I can say is that at
the end of the day, it's just the way she is.
There's so much more that I could be doing
right now. I could be catching up with my
friends, in fact I could be undertaking anything
but what I'm about to experience. I do not
want to be cooped up in a fusty and
unventilated orthodontist's, for hours on end,
doing something which quite frankly doesn't
need to be done.
I'm always told that it will eventually become
beneficial, that the fact that I was going to
have good teeth would provide me with an
advantage. Really? Are my teeth that
important? I don't think so. Besides, I thought
they were pretty good anyway.
All the same, everyone seems to be getting
braces - it seems to be part of progressing
through the teenage years. The term "Are you
getting braces?" has altered to "Have you had
braces yet?" and more worryingly, people just
aren't offended! Even Rosie, the girl known for
her perfect teeth, is rumoured to be wearing a
plate - what is going on?
My stomach churns as I hear the relentless
rumbling of engines enter town, and in
anticipation I begin to tap my finger on the car
door.
I swear every car journey races by when you
fear your arrival. But no matter how far you
drive, each excursion will always come to an
end. So as we parked beside the dentist's,
I wasn't wishing that I was somewhere else;
instead it was my job, all being well, to
positively leave this practice without a fragment
of metal glued onto my teeth.
Half-heartedly, I clambered out of the car. The
biting cold wind passes through my fingers as I
brush my hands through my hair
*
"Rob would like to see you now," announced
the receptionist. Wish me luck, I sigh.
Aluredian
48