High school. Walking into a new world. Disappearing into a crowd that already has a place. Coming from Maine, I really don’t fit in with these teenagers. How can I fit in with people who have lived in Colorado their whole lives? A piercing sound rattles my thinking. It’s time for first period, and I have five minutes to find room C-13.
13. The unluckiest number there is. Why couldn’t it be 7? I walk down the Main Hall. There’s A, B, D. Where’s C? I retrace my steps, back and forth. I walk down B as the second bell rings. One minute. There’s a hallway at the end, labeled C-Hall. I found it. C-13 is at the end, so I run to make it. I barely get into the classroom before the final bell rings.
Out of breath, I take a seat in the back. There are some glares and several snickers. I let my head fall on the desk, and a hollow thunk results. It’s going to be a long day.
The rest of the day is torture. No one said hello to me, and everyone stared. Staring is a pleasure when you’re popular, but a nightmare when you are new. My hair was a mess, my clothes wrinkled, and my thoughts tangled.
Ugh. A project. I’ve been assigned a stupid project. While everyone else gets to analyze A Raisin In the Sun, I have to make a slide show all about me. because I’m the new kid. Why can’t I do what they’re doing? This is going to make me stand out so much more than if they had just let me integrate into the class.
The teacher, Mrs. Festers, actually pulls me out of class to assign me a project that “will demonstrate abilities and fancies to the class.” In addition, it will make me look like a fool. Thank you, benevolent teachers. Thank you so much for ruining my high school career.
I am not sure whether to laugh or cry. My lunch is spread on my shirt and jeans. On the other hand, I met a cute, sweet, smart guy and his jerk best friend. What happened? Well I was getting out of the lunch line when a 140 running-back came barreling at me. He rammed into me and my tray pressed against my shirt. I looked down at the mess, then back up. All eyes were monitoring my reaction. Staring. Mocking me. I wanted to cry, but I just peeled my tray off and walked out the cafeteria doors, towards the bathroom. I heard footsteps following me, and I whirled around to tell off the gossiping mongrels.
It wasn’t any giggling girls. It was a guy. A cute guy.
Words escaped my mouth. “What are you doing here? Come to make fun of me? Well go ahead. It wasn’t my fault that football players are stupid and don’t realize school is public property!”
The cute guy gave me a look. “I just came to make sure you were . But if you’re going to insult my team, I am going to leave”
“I didn’t mean to insult your team. I didn’t know . . .” I stuttered
“Save it,” he hissed, “I’m tired of all you outcasts and nerds try to suck up and get on my good side because I’m a line backer. I’m leaving.”
Great. I messed it up with a gorgeously handsome guy. But there’s always tomorrow, right? In the movies and books, the girl always gets the guy. So it should be true in real life. Yeah.
Jason. His name is Jason. And he has a girlfriend, who is snobby, gorgeous, and flirty. She sticks to him like glue, and they make out in the hallways. Tres horibles! What will I do? It would be rude to break them up, but I’d be doing him a favor!