Emilie's pov
Dreaming. That's all I can do. Dreaming and pretending that I'm not here. Pretending that I'm not myself.
I look around the class and stare at those blond girls sitting next to me. Oh how I hate them, with their fake nails and their caked faces. They are certainly chatting about some handsome guys they have met at the huge student party yesterday, or how this new makeup highlighter is so good.
When I notice one of them looking rapidly to Bryan, the popular guy of the class seating just a few rows from mine, I know that my first idea was correct. The girl - I don't even know her name - is blushing. She is starting to chat with her two friends again when the Marketing teacher, Mr Brook, clears his throat in an attempt to have their full attention. How can they not pay attention to classes when everybody knows how university costs a lot? I don't understand them, a world is separating us.
But deep down, I know that I want to be like them. The truth is, I am just your average student of 20 years old, studying International Trade at the university of Chicago. I'm a brunette, not beautiful but not ugly. I'm just....me, I imagine. A normal size, a fit weight. The only thing original about my average self is that I'm French. I came to the US two months ago to study, to live the American dream and to deepen my knowledge of English. It was my dream. I remember working late at night in Paris just to earn enough money to pay the year in the US. I had dreamed of an amazing university for so long, in a city full of smart people, and stupidly as it was, I had dreamed of love too. Reality is different though: I'm alone. No friends here, no boyfriend, no one's interested in me. But don't get me wrong, I'm not a depressed girl. I was just expecting a better life. I have never been the sociable type anyway, but I have never been the loser. I usually fit in society and make my way without trouble. But since I have been here, I feel a wall between me and the others, and it's not only because of the language. I feel like I have no rights to be here. It's like I'm invisible. People are kind, that's not the problem. I think the problem is me. I don't belong here.
"Emilie? Emilie Legrand?" I shiver a bit, surprised to hear my name in class especially with that accent. I turn around to meet a boy with blue eyes, pretending to smile even though you can notice the boredom in his blue eyes. After recovering from the shock of someone speaking to me, I notice he is handing me a paper.
"Yeah?" I stupidly ask, being everything but comfortable.
"That's your test."
"Oh ok. Thanks." I simply reply before turning around, back to my initial position in front of the board, away from everyone. I look at the paper he gave me: it's the Logistics Test we had last week. I smile when I notice the A written in red.
Well, at least, I'm not here for nothing.
I then try to focus back on the teacher in front of me, who's talking louder every minute to try to have more motivation from his students. It's like I'm the only one around here who wants to understand what he's saying.
After 15 minutes of pure boredom, every student gets up and leaves the classroom. In an attempt to do the same, I get up with my backpack and my Logistics book. Before I can notice the person in front of me, I bumped into him, dropping all of my belonging on the floor.
"Just look where you're going, stupid girl!" shouts the boy I've bumped to, anger in his eyes.
"I'm so sorry !" I reply shyly, while gathering all my things and exiting the room as fast as I can. All students in the class are watching, laughing and some are even whispering to each other things I don't understand. With tears threatening to fall, I hurry to the front door of the university and to my home nearby. I have never felt so ashamed.
Why am I so weak?
****************
It's 8p.m, a Friday evening, and I still have nothing to do. While I am studying one of my previous lesson, I can hear my neighbors chatting with some friends who has come over for partying, and probably drinking.
Feeling alone, I take my mobile phone and check Facebook. I notice two messages from my best friends: Pierre and Mélanie, both of them asking me if I was ok. I smile, reassured. At least, they are not forgetting me. I reply that everything's fine here and that I am truly happy. A lie. Again. When I understand that I won't get any replies soon because of the time difference between the U.S and France, I'm feeling trapped again.
It can't be happening. I just can't stand staying there all alone. I need to go out and do something, for goodness's sake! Talk to someone!
With that thought in mind, I decide to head to the only place where I feel at peace in this country. The park.
Lucky as I am, this park is just located 5 minutes from my university residence, a usual old building without a lift, but I cannot complain as I am living on the ground floor. I am walking slowly while listening to some music – Stressed out by Twenty One Pilots -, staring happily at the nightlife displaying around me. The cars' lights, the usual sirens from police cars and the refreshing smell of the rain finally give me the feeling of being alive, as if all the episode at the university earlier was just a dream.
After some minutes of being in my own bubble, I notice the little red playground in the middle of the park. It is cold outside, and I am not surprised to see that no one is around. The park is very small, just a small circle road to jog, the playground and grass all around it.
I decide to just lay on the grass four feet away from the playground like I always do, and still listen to my music. I stare at the sky for a long time, deep in my thought like always. I can't prevent the questions rushing through my head.
Am I happy here? What am I trying to accomplish? Was it a good choice to come here after all?
That question is still replaying in my head over and over again, for what seems like hours. I'm then thinking about my parents - my mom, always cheering and funny, and my dad, strict but caring. My friends come next, with the memories of our high school years. When we were seniors, we were always making jokes and laughed about anything. At that time, I wasn't a popular girl as you can imagine. But I was me and I was happy with the life I had. Then, we all moved to another city for universities, as our hometown did not have one. I went to Paris to study in a good business school, while the others went to other big cities. I have always been a good student, always getting the best marks and I am proud of that, even if I have always received a lot of death glares from all my schoolmates. But I did not care, I was surrounded by people who accepted me and made me feel alive, whole.
Suddenly, something moving in the sky caught my attention. A shooting star maybe? I didn't even know it was possible around here.
With that in mind, I make a wish that will change my life forever :
Please, send me someone who will give me the life I'm dreaming of.
I smile, feeling that strange sensation that something or someone may have heard my wish and that my life will be happier now.
But, how I was so wrong.
YOU ARE READING
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