High School

First Impressions

Jeddessa's Point Of View:

Chapter 1: First Impressions

I finish applying my favorite emerald green eyeshadow and open my eyes. I can see that my reflection is dreading this first day almost as much as I am. Obviously. I make sure my Jet black hair is somewhat in place when I slam the door behind me. The walk to school is the worst. All the anticipations of starting High School midterm build up inside of you until you could just about explode.

After having a 'lovely' chat the other day with the principal about my transfer, I got a good sense that this school is just like every other. Typical High school. And I was just peeing myself to meet those superficial bitches that every typical high school comes with.

Something you should know about me reader, I overflow with sarcasm.

I walk in through the main entrance to find myself walking in a hallway crammed with tiny lockers. I can see it now, the jocks, nerds, populars, wannabes, hipsters, the completely typical cliques of just about every suburban high school.

What am I? Well I'll tell you this, I am NOT a preppy, perfect, egotistical kind of person. Wearing all black all of the time doesn't make me a super-depressed goth or some kind of punk or a vampire. About my over-cliché stereotypes, I've been to so many schools I just tend to generalize people.

A bell rings and the halls flood with students. I am not the slightest intimidated when I hear "new girl" and "OMG is she goth?" or "she's cute." First of all, hell no I ain't goth bitch please. Second, I'm not cute. I'm not pretty. I'm not beautiful. I'm HOT. I'm INTRIGUING. I'm a BAD ASS. And I'm not really modest.

I look at my schedule which reads: Chemistry room 109

I look at the numbers on the doors searching for the chemistry room.

I hear a guy's voice yell, "Daamn girl " followed by a ton of perverted remarks. I whip around to see a typical douchebag, well what did I expect?

He's looking right at me. I storm over and shove him against the locker with one hand. I'm guessing he didn't realize what was happening judged by the stunned look on his face. I am going to slap him, but then I decide on a different approach. "Listen, jerk," I say angrily, "I won't put up with your perverted shit. Take this as a warning." I then walk away while giving all of the bystanders subtle glares. I smile satisfactorily, as I enter room 109. I sure hope that first impressions actually last a lifetime because I want people to remember that.