Let It Rain Pennies

=One=

   I jumped out of my moms car as she yelled, "Have a good day baby!"

   "You too mom!" I shouted as I face away, covering my head from the rain as much as I could with my arms.
    What is the doors of the middle school my shoes squeaked against the linoleum tile floors. Everybody tracked in mud and water from the spring ground.

    It was 2013, middle of 8th grade, I was in my awkward phase—as anyone was at that time. My body was growing and so was my urge to break the rules...that sounds dumb now that I think about it.

    The front pieces of my hair were pinned back from my face with Bobby-Pins. I had a floral dress on with a jean jacket, and a matching beanie with brown boots that were in between ankle and knee high.

    I rushed to my locker and stuffed all of my things inside, the magnet mirror and dry erase board stuck to the metal of my locker. I grabbed the notebooks for my first two classes and then shut the door.

   "Hello locker buddy," Said the boy with slightly longer hair, styled across his face—which was huge at the time—he wore a red shirt under a black zip-up hoodie and blue jeans.
    This boy's name is Sam.

    I flinched as the sudden image of him staring at me, leaning against his locker.

    "Hey," I spun the lock a few times, the ticks between the numbers blurring as I jumble up the code, "Other locker buddy."

    He smiles, "So, how was the weekend?"

    "Fine. Boring. You?"

    He shrugged and starts to walk off, "Jake changed what he plays in band. Now he's a flute."

    "Why?" I follow, both of us making our way through the crowd of middle schoolers.

    "Because he told my mom... 'that's where are the girls sit' "

    "Player."

   "Yeah, but he's too much of a wimp to actually tell a girl he likes her."

    "Says you." I scoff

    "What do you mean?" He furrows his brows.

    "I mean you never asked out Steph Bloomberg."

    "That's because she's popular. And she thinks I'm weird."

    "You are weird."

    "Thank you." We walked into the open doorway of our home room class. A very bland room, just the cream cinderblocks and white boards along every wall. The day-to-day schedule written on the back board.
"But she thinks I'm weird in the bad way. Like...the weird ones." He looks over to a table in the corner of the room.

    The table was filled with girls and guys with long hair, even more on their face than Sam. They ratted their hair to make it look like a helmet, but a little spiky. And their clothes were...something else.

    "The scene kids?"

    "Yeah, I'm not like that. I don't say XD and rawr." He flicks his hair with a soft motion of his head—like a twitch.

    I giggle, "I think it's the hair."

    "How is it my hair?"