My first class for the day is English with Mr. Peterson.
Butterflies flutter anxiously inside my stomach; new students are always the center of attention- even the thought makes me queasy. Before Sophia I go out separate ways I tell her I’ll see her at lunch.
The classroom is like finding a needle in a haystack because of all the students swarming the halls. Finally I find the English room and slouch in. All the students are scattered around into groups of three of four, gossiping amongst themselves with no teacher in sight.
I cuddle my books and folders closer to my chest and scan the room for an empty seat. Thankfully I haven’t drawn attention to myself yet.
Just as I’m about to sneak over to an empty table in the back corner, a cheerful red-head bounces in front of me, “Hey, I’m Maggie,” she sings.
Crap, I think, I’m caught. I force my eyes to meet hers, “Hey, I’m Sara,” I reply, squeezing out the smile I have rehearsed many times. She seems like a typical girl just trying to be friendly and acquaint me to the school. Those are the kinds of people I try to avoid. I’m more of an outcast- someone who is just a nobody, and likes it that way, somebody who is quiet, but yet a loud listener.