The cold air brushed against my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps along my pale arms. My navy blue cotton blouse clung to my breasts and fell loosely down to my thighs. My legs were covered up with the denim fabric of my white boyfriend jeans. The entire outfit was truly lovely. The large silver vintage statement necklace pulls it all together, along with my white ballet flats.
The flats tap against the grey cement sidewalk as I approach the brick building commonly known as "School." It's a terrifying experience. Even if this were a brand new school, I would be naive to think that the first day was to be easy and fun. Opposite, actually. It's the constant anxiety that fills your body when you think someone is talking about you. The paranoia that you'll fail every assignment and become a high school dropout. The worrying about whether or not you will blend into the crowd and be just another face no one notices in the yearbook, or stick out like a needle in a haystack and continuously being looked over and every move you make is watched.
It is things like those that make the first week terrible. Not the thought of waking up early; Sorry to break it to you, parents, but the teenager life is much more complex and stressful than that. I sigh, allowing my feet to continue their steady pace towards the red brick building of flaming hell and chaos. I push the left side of the double sided French doors open, making my way into the crowd of my obnoxious, egotistic, or nervous peers.
People think that high school is so dramatic and exciting, like the 1988 movie "Heathers" or the 1995 movie "Clueless." Yes, there are popular girls, jocks, the nerds, the wallflowers, and any other stereotypical label you can think of, but there's no murder, no rich expensive mansions, no fighting for popularity, no incest -that I'm aware of, at least- and even the cheerleaders are kind of nice.
"Hey, Hadlee," my bestfriend, Veda, said. Her red curls fell over her shoulder, bouncing as she walks over. "Cute outfit."
"Thanks," I said, looking down. Veda was one of the prettier girls in class. She had that shining Colgate smile, pale skin, blue doe-eyes, and the most luscious red hair I've ever seen. She was shorter than me by several inches, but always remained the same size in her heeled boots. She never left the house without making sure she was as tall or taller than her friends. Tight black leather jeans hugged at her bottom and her legs, making her matching black leather boots almost unnoticeable. Her white camisole pushed her breasts up, making them appear larger than they actually were. Trust me, I've known her since I was eight. Over her cami she wore a black leather jacket.
"When are the classes you taking?" she asked me.
"I just walked through the doors, Ve. Do you really expect me to know my schedule?" I retorted.
"Oh, well I suppose not," her pale hand flew up towards her hair, slowly flipping it out of her face. "Since you just came in, you didn't hear about Alecs' party then?"
Alec was our on-off best friend since two years ago in our Sophomore year. He came from money, but like I said, no one here came from mansions or actually have designer clothes. Both of his parents worked as doctors. He was a very sweet boy, but he did have a temper.
"When is it?" I heard myself say before I fully thought it through. Did I really want to go to a party? Who even has high school parties anymore?
"This Friday at eight, Had."
"I'll think about it," I promised, turning to move towards the locker that had been mine for four years now. After entering my combination and throwing a vintage oversized denim jacket into the locker that was in my bag, I quickly pivot on my heel and walk to the school office.
YOU ARE READING
The Difference Between Love & Art
Teen Fiction"Choices are a part of every day life. Some things, however, are not choices and still are a part of your life. Passion, love, art, and style are all things you have no choice over. You are drawn to them like a bee is drawn to nectar," she said with...
