Solitude

Chapter Three: Little Miss Chatterbox

At first, I can only stare down at the little square of paper cupped in my hand. I stay like this for a good two minutes before the overwhelming urge to open it and read it passes through me. I begin to debate about it in my head, but it only lasts a few seconds. After all, what is there to argue about?

Slowly, I unfold the scrap of paper. I almost expect something to jump out at me and for it to read “JUST KIDDING! u thot dis wuz 4 u? LUZR!” Instead, in fairly neat handwriting, is about a paragraph of writing. I look up to make sure no one has seen me, and then cast my eyes downwards once more. The note reads:

Hi Evangeline,

I just wanted to say that you seem like a nice person, I heard you humming Weightless by ATL this morning. They’re one of my favorite bands. I was already explained the school layout by a girl this morning. So, no need for that. :) I hope we can be friends?

Evelyn

 I stare in shock at the writing in front of me. She thinks I’m nice? She wants to be friends with me? What is up with this girl? No one likes me, no one. But, she was new, right? So maybe she actually wanted to be friends with me? A small feeling of happiness surges through me, but is then pushed down. I bet she was bribed, my conscious remarks. And that, is the end of the first happy feeling I’ve had in months. It explained everything, some person had probably dared her to be friends with me and then ditch me. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up, because I’d get crushed in the end, like what had happened to me two years ago. My mind drifts to that day, that moment, that was two years ago.

“Evangeline. Evangeline… Evangeline!” Ms. Ranther snaps.

I shake myself out of the stupor I was in and everyone laughs at me. I don’t even blink, I’ve grown used to the stares, the pointing, and the being laughed at. Ms. Ranther has obviously seen the open note in my hand, but for some reason lets it slide. I think she thinks I can actually make friends with this Evelyn chick, oh how wrong she is.

“How come you aren’t paying attention to the morning  announcements, we’re about to do the flag salute,” she continues.

That’s when I notice that everyone is standing and has their hand on their heart- well actually all of the girls have their hand above their heart, because they don’t want to ruin their boob job- ready to repeat the salute. Quickly, I scramble out of my chair and place my hand on my heart, where it’s supposed to be. We recite, or more like mumble, the flag salute and then the leadership people come on to talk about who won what basketball game and stuff.

I don’t pay attention, because if I haven’t mentioned it before, I hate every and any kind of physical activity, unless it’s running towards one of those magical donuts that grows back, like in those IHOP commercials with the regrowing pancakes.

A few minutes later, the announcements are being wrapped up, and we still have three minutes of class left, which means I’ll have to talk to the new girl. I groan in my head, because I hate people, especially talking to them, and I lack social skills.

Suddenly, the class clown of Ardenwood High trips over his best friend who had purposely just stuck his leg out. Bobby Fisher hits the tile floor with a loud, dramatic “OOMPH!” and the class bursts into giggles. Ms. Ranther is also laughing, but is trying to hold it back, and asks Bobby if he’s okay.

He stands up, and there’s a growing splotch of red near his nose that could only be blood. Ms. Ranther begins to order for him to go to the sink so he won’t drip all over the floor. As he passes me, I notice that the blood is a little too thick to actually be blood, and I realize what it really is, ketchup thinned with some water.