Freaks

There is one rule to survive high school. Forget the academic rules, I don't mean those rules. I'm talking about THE RULE. The rule that determines your entire high school reputation. The one that determines the outcome of your high school experience. The rule that helps you survive, and maybe even more. The rule is: don't be a freak. Hattie Erickson was well aware of that rule when her freshman year was right around the corner. She knew that she needed to set herself aside from the freaks. She didn't care exactly who she was known as, as long as she wasn't a freak. She saw how easy it was to become a freak, and she did not want to fall under that category. Hattie was scared.

Freshman year isn't something to scoff at, and she was not cool. She was invisible in fact, and she would prefer to remain that way, instead of drawing attention to herself. She wasn't an interesting person. She wasn't pretty, at least by her classmates' standards. She was a nerd, she had a journal, she liked comic books, drawing, and was eagerly awaiting the Back to the Future sequel. She knew that she wouldn't last a day, but she could try.
September 1st, 1985. First day of freshman year. Hattie Erickson, a fourteen-year-old girl woke up with no energy or excitement. High school for some might sound like heaven. More freedom, more

exciting events, but for people like Hattie, It's hell. Let me paint a picture. Hattie Erickson is a teenager. She has acne, short, thick dirty blonde hair, and very long legs that make her the clumsy girl. High school was the last thing she needed. She woke up late, so hastily threw all her books and walkman in her grey backpack. She put on her baggy blue jeans, with a belt, and a shirt with squares, each one with a different bright color. She put on her giant square glasses that covered half her face and ran downstairs. Her mom stood in the kitchen, waiting for her.
"Hi Hattie", she said with a tone of exaggerated excitement that

Hattie despised, "Are you ready for your first day of high school!"
"Sure", Hattie sighed with a monotone expression.
"Don't give me that", her mother said, "High school will be the best years of your life. You're gonna love it".
"Okay Mom", Hattie said with the same tone.
The truth was, Hattie's mom probably had it way better than her. She was a tall woman with a warm smile, bright blue eyes, and natural blonde hair, that was often mistaken for bleach blonde. Even as a teenager, Hattie was sure her mother had been more

popular than her. In all the photographs, she always looked like a model. According to her grandparents, she was at the top of her class. Smooth skin all over, not a single zit. She was also athletic and an amazing swimmer, as well as the head cheerleader. She never had trouble with guys, and even as a middle- aged widow, had a stunning beauty. Hattie knew her mom never set expectations for her and didn't mind if she didn't meet them, but they were still there, and they infuriated her. Sure, high school had been the best years of her life, but it would take a miracle for them to be Hattie's. Hattie finished her cereal and went back to her room to brush her teeth and

give herself a pep talk in the mirror.
"We can do this", she sternly said, with her mouth full of paste, "You were a freak in primary school, you were a freak in middle school, you were a freak in goddamn kindergarten. But that was the old Hattie Erickson. The new Hattie Erickson is fun and cool, and hot, just like all the other pretty girls. I'm fine".
She stared at the cloud of acne forming on her forehead and pushed some of her hair to fall on top, and cover it up, also covering up her eye. Hattie looked at the time and realized she was running late. She stumbled from the bathroom to the front door with her wobbling,

long legs. With her backpack and walkman in hand, she left the house, ready to face high school.
"Good luck Hattie", her mother yelled, waving at her from the driveway, "Have fun, I love you".
Her screams of encouragement faded in Hattie's ears as the reassuring sounds of The Cure flooded her ears. She remained that way, happily humming to Close to Me until she reached the school. Now all of a sudden she wanted to play A Forest because a sensation of fear reached her heart. She anxiously gripped her backpack's straps tightly as she raced through her thoughts, trying to remember that pep talk she gave herself in the mirror. So far, the