The Girl Who Wore Jordans

Chapter Four

 Chapter Four

       “No, mom!” I repeated for the billionth time.

       “But, Elizabeth,” she protested, “it’s your first day of school! Please, let me drive you there today! I promise, just this once!”

       “No. I’m taking the bus. I’ve gone through first days so many times before, and they’re not a big deal!” I said, thinking back to all the other times I’ve had to be subjected to being the “New Girl”. It’s an interesting experience… No one knows your limits or has any expectations of you; all they can do is misjudge you based on appearance.

       “Not a big deal? This is your first day of your senior year, and you are willingly wearing a skirt! How can this not be a big deal?” she questioned, referring to my ultra feminine choice of attire. My skirt was a blush color, made out of this thin material, and hung just above my tanned knees. Pink is not my color. I don’t even know how my mom was able get me to agree to her buying it for me…

       I don’t wear skirts. I hate them, and find them extremely uncomfortable and inefficient. The reason for wearing a skirt today, was first impressions. Your first impression on someone is the lasting image that remains in their mind about you for all of eternity. By wearing a skirt, people are more likely to think I’m a more reserved, quiet girl, oppose to who I truly am.

       I asked my mom to help me with what to wear with the skirt, and she suggested a simple white tank top and a slender brown belt; I took her advice, and those clothes somehow found themselves on my body. As much as I would love to wear a pair of sneakers with this ensemble, even I realized it was a bad idea. I took my own intuition, and slipped on a pair of white flats with the outfit. All together, I looked very… girly. Yuck.

       “It’s not; believe me. I’ll walk to the bus, and I’ll see you this afternoon,” I said, tossing my teal backpack over a shoulder.

       “Fine. Call me if you need anything! Oh! Do you have your phone? Do you need money?” she fretted. She always does this. Every time I enter a new school, she freaks. Most people would expect the kid to be nervous, and the parents to be chill, but with me, it’s the opposite.

       “I’m fine. Love you. I’m going. Bye,” I said, thumping down the stairs to the landing.

       “Love you too! Bye sweetie!” she said, as I opened the door, and stepped out, closing it behind me.

       I breathed in the warm morning air of the early September day, and began my way to the bus stop on the corner of our street. Prior to this day, my mother had looked up about a million different routes to get to this one place, so I wouldn’t get lost. It’s on the corner of our freaking street; there’s no way in hell I can get lost.

       As I passed my new house, my feet lightly hit the sidewalk, and I navigated my way over broken twigs and the occasional pebble. My head was looking either way, taking in the scenery I would have to look at for the next ten months of my life. In the winter, this pathway would most likely be covered in a heavy layer of snow, and be close to impassible.

       “Elizabeth!” I heard my name being called. I spun around to view a large, black SUV to my side. Behind the wheel was the same boy who had been the first to welcome me to the neighborhood: Eric.

       “Hi…” I said, smiling at him.

       “Where are you going?” he asked.

       “The bus stop…” I said, restricting my eyeballs from rolling. Logic. Geez. Some people…