I Almost Gave Up

1. Hermosa

Just like any other day, I walk into the halls of Christopher College unnoticed and irrelevant.

I am already quite acquainted with this, so it is normal for me. I'm that one girl in school with no friends except maybe one, Nicole.

The antisocial girl who hates people, crowds, noise, and company. The girl who is lonely when around people and pretty ok when alone.

Yeah, that's me. Hermosa Daniels. I'm sixteen years old and currently in my last year of high school.

I am an African American blessed with light, dark, silky skin, so I've been told. I have a kind of hair unique to that of the girls around me. Where other girls' hair flows down wavy and luscious, my hair pops everywhere like a bush on my head.

I have baby doll brown eyes thanks to my mum and the height of my dad. I'm lean, but not skiny. Mum says I should eat more, but food is not for me.

I've been told that I'm a beautiful girl. Too bad I don't believe them. I've grown up around beautiful girls. Trust me, I'm not even close to them.

Now, don't get me wrong, looks don't matter to me. I couldn't care less about all that. I'm OK, being invisible.

It's not as bad as you think. That's a lie. It is. Well, most of the time. It's like finding company with your thoughts even though they're not always comforting.

The hallway is crowded and noisy. Kids are scattered all around. Some are trying to get to class. Others bullying the weaker kids. Most are gossiping about the hotest boy. None like me.

I walk to my locker and shove my bag in. I pull out my literature textbook and notepad and walk to class. Hopefully, this day will fly by in a glance.

In literature class, I take my usual seat at the corner of the class at the back, far away from anyone's view. Most times, I feel like I'm at fault for being invisible.

Nahh.

The class starts a few minutes later. Mr. Jim goes on and on about his favourite character, Oberon, in A Midsummer Night's Dream.

I love this play, literally. I really do. All that has to do with books draws me. That's why I ventured into arts. It's alluring. Mystical.

I don't stare at the clock in this class, hoping time would move a little faster. I just enjoy the ride.

One of my favourite novels will always be Wuthering Heights. My favourite characters are Heathcliff and Catherine. My favourite quote, whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

For some reason, the novel, its characters, and the quote thugs at my heart. It all speaks to me.

I pull my mind back to Mr. Jim, who is now on about the character Bottom. I'm ahead of the class. This play is a mystical one. It's filled with magic, tricks, love potions, true love, jealousy, and more. I believe Shakespeare did well with it.

The bell rings too soon for me. I don't rush to leave the class like the rest of the students. I take my time.

"Nice class, Mr. Jim." I wave to him.

"Thank you, Hermosa."

My mum says I shouldn't leave a class without thanking my teacher. I was told that every day while in elementary school.

Out in the hallway, everyone is running outside screaming and cheering.

Nope.

I walk to my locker and dump my books in it, and take out my English notes. Students are still running outside.

Curiosity gets the better of me. I hesitantly walk to the school's courtyard to see what's going on.

"Hey, what's going on?" I find Nicole already standing there.

"Saint is making out with Shaina."

I knew this was a waste of time.

Saint. Saint is our school's hottie. The lover boy. Every girl's dream boy. The gossip of the halls and classrooms. When he walks into a room, everyone stares. Sometimes, I stare, too. What?! He's tempting.

He has been endowed by the Almighty himself. His long black hair. Hazel brown eyes that seem to struggle between dull and glowing.

There's something about his eyes. They portray something that's hidden, but he tries to cover it. That's why his eyes struggle with dull to glow.

He has perfectly tanned skin, smooth and soft. I wouldn't know if it was soft, but from the look of it, you would know. He is lean but a little muscular, and his height is just right.

Shaina is a slut. I'm not being jealous. It's fact. Everyone in school knows about her. Everyone. She would go out with anyone who agreed to get in her.

Saint, being the hottest guy in school, is a playboy. I've heard that he doesn't date. He simply uses and disposes. He goes to parties, entertains girls and drinks. A lot.

His parents are affluent as well. Double package. He is also the only son.

What? He's popular. News flies a lot about him. It's not my fault I happen to have heard some of it.

"Well, I'll be in English class then." I'm not interested in watching a making out session. Knowing Nicole, she'll be there till it ends.

Nicole is my closest friend, but not my best. She may be close to me, but I can't open up to her, so she can't be my best friend. Plus, we're not really compatible.

Is she close to me?

In English class, I sit at the back, wear my headphones, and drown in my favourite escape route. I lose myself in the music and don't even realise when the class eventually starts.

By the end of English class, I'm already exhausted and just want to go home. Nothing here makes me happy.

Nothing.

Before I can slip into that state that I'm not ready for today, I walk out of the classroom. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're welcome, Hermosa."

It's lunchtime now. I don't really eat in school. Remember I said something about food? Yeah.

Instead of going to the cafeteria, I walk to the library. The best place in this school. It's away from everyone. No one comes here. No one. It's like it's for me.

When I get there, I sit at the corner at the far end, so even if someone comes in, I still won't be seen.

I pull out my journal and do what I do best. I pour out all my thoughts, feelings, words, fears, and dreams into it. Do you want to know about me? Pick up my journal. You'll know everything.

I spend my entire lunch break scribbling, writing, sketching, all in my beautiful black journal.

When the bell rings, I close the book, slip it back in my bag, and get ready to face the crowd again.

Being invisible is hard work.