To Me She Was Pretty

Losing Something, But Gaining Everything Part 6

Clare's mother Grace, watched her  daughter proudly, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. The girl had  left the front office, and made her way down the long, waxed and glossy  hall. Black, freshly painted lockers lined the orange walls. The thick, grooves under the rubber of her mahogany army-boots, squeaked  each slow and steady step Clare took. No matter how late she was, or how much her heart fluttered with anxiety as she thought about Sam, she was determined to maintain some sort of emotional normalcy.  Clare wanted to make it to class, even if she only had a few remaining minutes left of first period.

The girl let a sigh escape her lips, “Okay, Clare... Pull yourself together. You got this. Sam's the past now, and this school, this year will be the best of your life.” Today, was the day, the time for Clare to make a good first impression. The students she met  from here on out, would be the one's she would rub elbows with for the next two years. That was a very long time in Clare's eyes, and she didn't want to screw her reputation up.

Clare didn't want to be the shy, slightly awkward, and incredibly nervous girl she was only a week before, back in Utah. This move, this beautiful, darling school, was an grand opportunity for change. And, change—was something that the girl was desperate for; She yearned, hoped—with, and in every fiber of her young being, for it (for her dull life to dramatically change) more than anything. Primarily, because she  didn't really like the person she was; her thick body, her four-eyes, her wide nose, the gap between her two front teeth. And, of course, the ginger nest she had for hair.

The girl wanted to be someone else, someone better, someone more beautiful. Her old life was like a crippling cocoon she could never quite struggle free from. However, this new one, in this dazzling fairy-tale of sorts, was exactly the way she  would do it. How Clare would emerge, spread her wings, and then, learn to fly. “Okay—here goes nothing...” The girl stood for a moment at the classroom door. She stared hard at the letters, and  number, that matched the creased, folded schedule she held in her trembling hands. She closed her eyes, whispered a prayer, and turned the metal handle of the door before she entered. “I'm sorry to bother you and your class, but I'm Clare Middlebrook. I'm new here. I think, this is where I'm supposed to be.”

A tall and thin, cropped-haired brunette, that resembled more of a super model, than an actual teacher, smiled kindly at Clare from her polished desk, facing a now, curious, quiet, classroom. “I—we've been expecting you, Clare. Have a seat anywhere you'd like.” The girl smiled and dropped her gaze, suddenly feeling a bit self-continuous. Insecure. The flicker of compassion sparked a fire in the teachers heart and kind, honey eyes. “I'm  Mrs. Anderson... and I hope, you settle in well here. If there's any questions or concern's you have, my door is always open. I'm always here...” Clare lifted  her gaze again as her heart was comforted a little by the woman's words. “Thanks... I'll be sure to keep that in mind.”

The girl's eyes shifted around the room for an empty seat. She headed towards it, just before she met Georgina's and Kendra's gaze. All the blood drained from Clare's face. The mean girl's shook their heads disapprovingly. Clare knew exactly what this meant, especially by the distorted expressions the girls wore.  How their eyes rolled.

Georgina or Kendra, didn't have to part their pursed, glossy lips for Clare  to realize they didn't want her sitting anywhere near them. The girl jerked to a halt, her boots skidding, and squealing on the tiled floor. She quickly craned her head across to the other side of the room. A voice broke the awkward silence, “You can sit  here.” Not even thinking it through, completely mortified at this point, drowned in shame, the girl shifted hastily to the empty, metal desk. Clare didn't even bother looking up to who had spoke. She sighed long and hard as she sat, “Well, that was embarrassing...” A low chuckle came from behind, and it was then, that Clare turned to see the humored face of a very pretty, brown-skinned boy, staring doe-eyed back at her.  “Thanks,” the girl whispered...”  The  boy batted his long, dark lashes and tilted his head. “You're welcome.  Thank you, for the laugh... I needed  that!”