Kissing Lily

                The day I met Lily was just like any other Monday I had experienced. Nothing was out of the ordinary, I sat in English, just as I had every day before, counting down the minutes to lunch. Five more weeks left of school, and I couldn’t wait until I could leave this black hole called high school and go out into the real world.

                I had gone to the same school, with the same people, since kindergarten. We had the largest class at my school, with a whopping twenty-four students. Our ancient school was smaller than most movie theaters, and most of the teachers were once students here themselves.

                I chewed on the end of my pencil, zoning out while Mrs. Hackett stood at the blackboard explaining Alexander Pope’s satirical An Essay on Man. I was one of those people who kept to themselves, tried not to stand out, and did my best not to get called on in class. I had average grades without doing more than the minimum, and was satisfied with that.

                I looked up as the classroom door opened, and that’s when I saw her. Her fiery red hair had my attention, swirling around her shoulders in loose curls. Light freckles dotted her milky white skin, and her piercing blue eyes seemed to dance over the students.

                She didn’t dress like anyone in my school. Here the girls wear tiny expensive pastel baby tees and designer denim shorts that look small enough to fit a baby. This new girl dressed in layers; I could see a black lace tank peeking out under her black knee-length dress, black tights, and chunky black boots. While the girls in my school all carried their books in the arms with designer purses hanging on their shoulders, this girl had a black canvas messenger back over her shoulder that looked heavy with books.

                No one said anything as she explained to Mrs. Hackett that she was new. I looked around at the other students; the boys looked at the new girl with desire, as if she was a piece of candy they all wanted to lick, while the girls looked disgusted.

                I looked up to watch her as she walked to an empty set. She smoothed her dress down as she sat, and pulled a black notebook out of her black messenger bag. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and stared at her back until the lunch bell rang. She was just so different. I knew that I wanted to be her friend, not just friends, but her best friend.