Work Text:
"Nice girls don't raise their voices," Mother and Father tell me.
I tried to keep my voice down, I really did, but when I get excited or scared I can't help it.
"Nice girls don't stomp or slam doors," they say.
I try to apologize, to make them happy again. But when I've had a bad day, or when they've been extra mean, I forget my own strength.
"Nice girls smile with their teeth," Father says.
So I smile a big toothy smile, and he only gets madder.
"Nice girls have straight, white teeth."
I don't know how to change the shape of my teeth or make them any less black. I've tried asking how, but nice girls don't ask for ridiculous things.
"Nice girls don't wear their gloves and shoes in the house," Mother says.
I take them off, even though I'm cold. Mother frowns.
"Nice girls have ten fingers and ten toes."
I have too many fingers and not enough toes and that makes her mad. I try not to cry, scream, or hit, because those aren't nice girl things to do.
I even hear their voices in my dreams:
Nice girls eat their vegetables. Nice girls don't break things. Nice girls don't read scary books. Nice girls don't talk to strangers. Nice girls keep their clothes clean. Nice girls don't walk on their toes. Nice girls say 'I love you'. Nice girls have nice friends. Nice girls have whites in their eyes.
Why can't you be a nice girl?
I decide I will become a nice girl. I take some paint from the garage, Mother's sewing kit, and Father's gardening shears. I'm only borrowing these things, because nice girls don't steal. I squirrel them up in my room and get to work.
First, use the shears to get rid of one finger from each hand, so now there's only ten instead of twelve. Then I take the fingers, cut them in half, and sew one half from each to my feet. Now I have ten toes instead of eight. It's messy and it hurts, of course, but I can't be a nice girl if I complain too much.
Finally, I use the paint, which is white, and a brush to paint my teeth and eyes. The paint tastes awful, but I had to use a lot to obscure the shapes of my teeth. As for my eyes, they sting a little, I can barely see. I smile, then I make my way downstairs to show my new, nice girl look. Maybe now they'll be happy again, like when I was little.
Father sighs and shakes his head. Mother scowls.
"Nice girls don't make bloody messes."