Back to Cool

Summer. A time to relax and ignore all of my friends from school. 

What a relief. 

But summer is too short. Soon high school will be starting, and I'll have to see the Pops again.

I suppose you are wondering who the Pops are. So am I. 

Sit down, and let me tell you a story.

My name is Estelle. I moved here from  France almost three years ago.

My first day of American school was...interesting. I was going into sixth grade, at eleven years old. 

I clambered out of my Mom's car, shivering in my little black shoes. 

"Have a wonderful day, mon cher," she called after me. I nodded nervously, and began walking forward, hunched over from the weight of my backpack. I had all kinds of school supplies in there, along with a library of books. I figured I should have some along, so that if I sat alone at lunch I would have something to do. 

I didn't bother to stop by my locker. I couldn't remember my combination, and I didn't want to waste a second. I rushed to my first class, managing to find it on my own. I looked around the crowded classroom, trying to find a friendly face. There were none. I sat down in a discrete desk, all alone. 

"Hey, you're new," a voice said. I looked up, and saw a brunette girl standing in front of me. She chewed her gum, grey eyes wide. 

"Um...yes," I said. "But I'm not the only new person here." The girl grinned.

"I know," she said. "But I see that your shirt has the flag of France on it. Are you from there?" I nodded suspiciously. She squealed. 

"Perf!" she cried. "I heard there was someone from France here! I speak a TON of French. All the Pops do! Here, come sit with us." She grabbed onto my arm, and pulled me towards a group of fashionable girls. She sat me down into a chair on the edge of their group.

"Girls," she said. "This is..." She leaned towards me. "What was your name?"

"Estelle," I replied. 

"Estelle!" the girl exclaimed, smiling broadly. "She's from France." The girls all sucked in a breathe.

"Wow, really?" one of them asked. I nodded. She smiled. "I think you're going to do well here." I smiled nervously.

"Attention, class!" the teacher called, and our class began.

I sat with the 'Pops', as they called themselves, throughout all the classes we were in together. At lunch, they dragged me along with them to their table.

"So," one of them said, munching on a celery stick. "I don't think we've told Estelle here our names." 

"Right!" another one said. "Let's introduce ourselves!" She leaned forward. "I'm Avery, but you call me Alina." 

"Why?" I asked, confused. 

"Because that's just the way it is," she said, leaning back again. I shrugged.

"I'm Tiana," the brunette from earlier today said. "But you call me Tiara." I kept smiling as the rest of them told me their names and what they were 'Called.'

There was Kira, aka Kiki, Rihanna, aka Riri, and Stephanie, aka Selina.

"What should Estelle be called?" Tiara asked, leaning back in her chair and putting her feet on the lunch table. Riri shrugged.

"How about we name her Elise?" Alina suggested, blowing a bubblegum bubble. 

"No," Kiki said disgustedly. "That sounds like a little girl's name."