I entered the school and assessed the atmosphere. The facility was way larger than my previous one had been, despite the fact that my new town of residence was smaller than Mapleton.
Immediately after walking in, a twinge of anxiety struck. My pulse quickened as I felt everyone's attention shift to me. My method of reassurance would have been the fact that I was new so people didn't recognize me but I was certain that wasn't the only reason, let alone the primary one.
Since moving to Willow Grove in June, I promptly started treatment. It was necessary that we began as soon as possible since the specific kind of leukemia I had was a short term and potentially fatal cancer.
What this meant was that I had had plenty of time for my hair to fall out due to chemotherapy from mid-June to the end of November, when I started school. And that it did. By the first day, my hair had already finished falling steadily in clumps, to the point of me just choosing to shave it off to get it over with rather than witness in horror as I became less and less myself each day.
So there I stood in the hallway, bewildered and disoriented. As if being new and finding your way around wasn't bad enough, I had to navigate the trials and tribulations of being a recently diagnosed cancer patient coping with her disease at the young age of 15.
I had a blond wig on to replace my previous long, golden locks, but it was clear that it was synthetic rather than real human hair. For non-cancer patients who do not have experience with purchasing wigs to wear on your bald head, synthetic means that the wig is created out of man-made materials. I cursed myself out in my head for not making the extra time to look into buying a human hair wig.
I made my way past a small group of girls gathered at a locker, slathering on lipstick and eyeliner in a small, locker-sized mirror. The most prominent one, in the center of the throng, turned around after sensing my presence to watch me pass. The eyes of her entourage followed.
"Fake bitch." one snarled with a nasty tone. The two words dripped like venom, or acid. Something particularly harmful, just like they seemed to be. I figured that her comment was dropped just to impress the leader of them all but nonetheless, it hurt me.
If only she knew what I had to go through. Although it sounds morbid, in that moment, I sort of wished she did. People dismiss the possibility of juvenile cancer as just that- a possibility. We never think it would happen to us. But it has to happen to someone. Why me?
A noise that I came to recognize as the warning bell sounded, and I frantically snatched my books from my bag, and stashed the bag in my locker. I took off in a sprint towards the stairs for the second floor, but as I approached them, I discovered they were too steep. Directly across from it was an elevator, and amidst my heavy breaths, I silently appreciated this stroke of luck.
Upon arriving on the school's second floor and exiting the elevator, my fern green eyes assessed my new surroundings. I had did not have much time to get to my next class, and the fact that I was now out of breath was not helping anything.
I couldn't help but imagine how much worse my endurance would get over time with more chemotherapy, but my main focus was finding the 1st period class listed on my course sheet.
F402- Agriculture- O. Davis
The area I had gotten off at was labeled as E, so I sped north through the halls, panting and simultaneously batting my wig out of my face. I missed my hair a lot, but I did not miss having to do that. Somehow the hairline of the wig made it even more common that strands fell into my line of vision.
F398, F400, F402. I came to a halt in front of the class, and scanned it to make sure that it was indeed the class I was supposed to be in. Peering through the window allowed me an omniscient view, and I observed the population inside.
With no teacher in sight, the students were each doing their own thing. The narrow rectangle of glass in the hickory wood door provided me with the ability to see social groups, with popular kids to outcasts, and everything in between. A fairly typical high school.
It was obvious that me standing outside of the classroom was just avoidance. Avoiding never got me anywhere, yet I was trying it right then and there. I was terrified of hospitals but now I spent half my life in them. I wasn't even sure why I had to come to school while my health and life were on the line.
Did they actually expect me to get good grades and focus when any day could mean the end of all of that mattering? The end of me? Although I had been given a couple months off from school to deal with the chemo process, and was not forced to start school on time in September, I still had to start a month later today.
I had no option of avoidance; life doesn't let allow for it. I had to go into that classroom sooner or later. Working up the courage to enter it, my sweaty hand grasped the icy metal door handle.
Just as I did that, a lady with a collection of papers stacked high in her right hand appeared behind me. Her look was clean and sophisticated, with a neat bun piled high on her head of dark black hair. A pencil skirt and blouse completed the look. She looked young, and if she was married, it must not have been long ago that the marriage took place.
"Looking for something?" her kind voice inquired. I could instantly tell that I would like this woman. She was so welcoming.
I nodded, adjusting my books in my hand out of anxiety.
"Umm, yes. This is the Agriculture room, right?"
It was a stupid question that I already knew the answer to, but it was better than saying "Hi, I'm too socially inept to enter a classroom".
She chuckled warmly and replied by pointing to a large sign that read "Agriculture" in colorful block letters vertically.
"So it would seem. I'm your teacher, Mrs. Davis. You're the new transfer, Leslie---"
At this, she fished out a slightly crumpled document that contained my name and previous school, as well as courses for this semester.
"Ellecks. Welcome, Leslie Ellecks."
Mrs. Davis stashed the paper back into her tote, swinging the bag back onto her shoulder as she opened the classroom door in the same motion.
She began to quiet the chatter and give an introduction to the class about me, their newest student. I was too nervous to focus on her words, but instead focused on the twenty-something pairs of eyes sizing me up. Trying to decide what I was like, silently judging.
At the conclusion of her small speech, she gestured for me to sit next to a boy in the back by the name of Christopher.
Taking a seat next to him, I did exactly what the class had just done to me. Judging is human, and what is there that we can do to prevent it?
Christopher stared straight ahead, clicking his mechanical pencil out of boredom. He stole glances to the right a couple times, looking at me, as the rest of the class was most likely doing. He wore a navy blue sweater with jeans, and bordeaux red Converse sneakers. I couldn't decide whether or not it was a fashion disaster or fashion masterpiece.
He sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his midnight black hair to smooth it. It's not that I found him attractive, but his icy blue eyes contrasted quite nicely with the dark color of his hair.
I guess I found myself looking more at people's hair these days, now that mine was gone. Sometimes you never appreciate what you have until you don't have it anymore. That is such a clićhe, but it had more than just a bit of truth to it.
My days of being normal or average were over. I braced myself for the questions from my new classmates that would bombard me, but none came. It was for the better I think.
I needed some time alone now anyway, and silence from them was second best. I closed my eyes momentarily to imagine life being different, and cancer never happening. It was so far from reality that it didn't work a bit.
Hey reader! Thanks for reading my latest chapter in "The World Through Various Eyes"! If you enjoyed it, make sure to comment your thoughts about the book's plot so far, and your opinions on it in general. Also, if you think it deserves it, make sure to vote for it! Thanks again!
~DistantDreams (Claire)
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/10539319-288-k705941.jpg)
YOU ARE READING
The World Through Various Eyes
Science FictionLife isn't always what you make of it. Sometimes, life is what it makes of you. The paths of four very different teens converge. Impossible circumstances weigh heavily on their every move. Each action they take, each decision they make, could be th...