The Girl With No Last Name (The Girl #1)

Confrontations and a New Friend

I think it'd be more fitting for Charlie to be an Eighth grader or something. I'm gonna change it to that. Tell me if you think that's not a very good change 😂.

Chapter Nine:
Confrontations and a New Friend

"What do you have now?" She asks, trying to keep up some conversation. "Um..." I hesitate as I take out my schedule to consult it. "Science. Oh I adore Science. This should be interesting." As we're walking, we get a lot of strange looks. We probably look like a mother and daughter. I smile at the thought. "You?" I inquire. "Same. So, don't get mad at me, but how old are you?" I laugh as she cringes at the question she just asked. "Six, you?" I still am smiling. I don't think anything could ruin my ectasy right now.
"Twelve. How did you end up in middle school though?" I cringe at the minefield. We've reached my locker now so I point it out to her and take out my key from my pocket. I sigh and lean my back on the locker, crossing my ankles. "That's a rather long and excruciatingly confusing story, and we're short on time. Could we perhaps save it for later?" She furrowed her eyebrows but nodded nonetheless. "I guess. So what do you do in your free time?" She asks, trying to break the awkwardness, I assume. I open my locker and get my stuff as I answer. I'm starting to like this girl; she's so easy to be around and doesn't actually flinch away from my abnormality like some people do. "Read. I adore books. What about you?" We started moving again. "I play the piano. I like basketball too. I actually was going to apply for the school team today at the break time. Wanna come with?"
"Sure." She points out her locker to me and we steer towards it. She takes her stuff and we begin walking again. "I assume you know where our classroom lies?"
"Yeah. Ms. Gibson is a really sweet woman. She's in her late twenties and is a very good teacher."

We reach the classroom after 2 minutes of comfortable silence. It's one of those lab/classroom things. A long lab table occupies the front of the room with two rows of pair tables lining the remaining space. Bordering the back of the class, lab tables are lined horizontally against the wall with all the laboratory supplies organized on them.

The first bell has rung a couple of minutes ago, so the class was full. We enter and spot a free table in the left-side row. "Sit with me?" I ask her tentatively. "Sure." We head to the tables with eyes and whispers following us. In case you haven't noticed yet, I have two very bipolar sides; the sweet and timid one, and the audacious bold one. Sometimes I try to mix both sides to project a confident demeanor, if mixing them is even possible.

We head to the table and place our stuff on the smooth, white table. It actually feels very nice. It's cold but has sort of a modern feel to it. We keep up conversations till the second bell rings and the teacher enters two minutes later.

I learn from my previous mistake and keep sitting, greeting the teacher by her name. She looks nice, with light brown hair, small facial features, a tight navy skirt, a pinstriped baby blue blouse, and heels.
"We have a new student with us this year as I'm sure you've already realized. Ms. Charlie, please introduce yourself." I stand up and walk up to the front of the room, radiating confidence. I smile sweetly and clear my throat.
"Good morning. My name is Charlie, and I'm six years old. I adore both reading and science. I'm happy to be here today and I hope we'll all get along well. Thank you." I turn and head back towards my seat, turning a blind eye to the sniggers and whispers.
"Alright, Ms. Charlie here might very well be better than most of you, so don't lose focus."

The rest of the lesson goes by smoothly, with the exception of some snickers and crude remarks. At the end of the lesson though, when Charlotte has left me quickly to go and ask the teacher something, my walk to the locker is interrupted by a tall blonde with manicured nails and glossed lips. Typical Queen Bee. "Yes?" I ask with an overly sweet tone.
"I just wanted to ask if you're mad at Ms. Gibson," she purred in a tone mirroring mine.
"Why would I be mad at her?" I replied, truly confused.
"Because I think she confused your name with a fifth grader boy,"
"She didn't. That's my name," my tone changed completely, now that I knew what she was getting at.
"You sure?" One venemous glare from me conveyed my answer to her. "Don't know why someone would name their daughter Charlie," she muttered as she turned on her heels. I had to clench my fists to keep from doing any rash actions as that particular sentiment hit a nerve.

The rest of the day – up till lunch –preceeded rather normally, with some confrontations and bullying here and there. At the break time, I met up with Charlotte and we went to sign her up for the school's basketball team.

When lunch time came, I went to the girls' restroom to make wudu, – a particular pattern of washing up that precedes prayer – getting quite some stares might I add, and then went in search of a secluded spot to pray.