Picture this. The second month of eighth grade. Theatre class. New kid.
The warning bell rings as I gather up the last few pencils that fell out of my bag in the hallway. I tuck the long brown strands of my hair behind my ear, for they are driving me nuts. They make me feel frustrated since I'm am always tucking them back. I check my watch. 30 seconds. I had never been late before, and I wan't going to start today.
My TOMS shuffle across the slick gray tile as I hurry to get to theatre class. Supposedly, there was a new kid coming in today. A boy. He would be the only guy. Poor kid. I don't know what he's going to think about a class full of girls. I chuckle.
Just as the bell rings, I step into the classroom. It is big. There are about 30 desks lined up in 5 columns. Mrs. McCarty is sitting at her desk on the cream wall phone. She is the greatest teacher ever. She is so nice and let us do whatever as long as we got our work done by the end of class. She had a light brown bob haircut and always work Sanuks. She had dark brown eyes, short lashes, and a pointed nose. And don't forget the glasses. Only two words to describe them: big and square.
I pick up our worksheet for today. "How to Expert the Art of Pantomime" is what it's titled. I skim through the paper and get a glimpse of myself in the wall mirror. I examine myselft. My straight, waist-long auburn hair is unsurprisingly messed up from rushing two minutes earlier. It looks as if I had just stepped out my font door to find that a tornado had struck town. Ok maybe not that bad. I smoothed it down and brushed my long fingers through it. Hair: check. Now onto eyes. Thank goodness my eyeliner wasn't smuged. It usually is by this time of day. My eyeshadow brought out my golden eyes, so I guess my they're fine. Check. I secretly smile to myself. Egh. Braces. I have light blue rubber bands. I can't wait 'til I can see the day I get my braces off of me. I unwrinkle my tie-dye shirt and dust off my jeans. Not too shabby.
"Bryn, sit down already! You look fine," calls my friend, Jessica. My real name is Brynth Beckahm. And no, I'm not related to the soccer star.
"Ok ok chill one time! I'm coming." I slide across the room and plop down into my seat next to Jessica. She's a blonde, but against contrary belief, very smart. Her shoulder-length hair has loose curls and I wish I had her freckles.We start talking and laughing about past jokes until Mrs. McCarty speaks up.
"Now class, you all have probably heard that we're getting a new classmate today. His name is Tyler Reed. Could you all welcome him?"
I hear Hey!'s and Welcome to seventh period!'s. I just mutter them. I mutter because I can't help but staring. His brown Bieber-like hair is resting on his forehead with a purple baseball cap on backwards. He has grey Hollister jacket and light jeans. I can see his red vans peeking under the hem of his pant leg. He's mezmerizing...like...like...like a god. Just kidding. But he is cute as hell.
"Now Tyler, you can sit behind Brynth over there in the far corner which is also next to Jessica. I hope those are easy enough directions."
I think this class just got 20 times better.
