I got out of my parents Honda and felt the cold air rush at my face. Leveling out my books in my other hand I pushed my hood up over my dark brown hair. I looked over my shoulder at the people walking behind me and looked down quickly, avoiding their glances. I don’t want anyone to judge me looking at them.
As I walked in, I felt everyone’s eyes on my face. My face heated up and I knew my face was red as a tomato. I once again looked down, not meeting their gazes and walked on. I went to my locker and looked in the tiny mirror. Great, my face is red. Everyone’s probably laughing at me right now, probably saying;”Look at her face”
“She was so embarrassed!”
“What a loser!”
I could just see everyone now, making fun of me . . . laughing at me like I’m stupid. I felt a warm, watery tear roll down my face.
The bell went off and my legs dragged me off to my class. I walked inside the small, tight room and hung my head low. I took my seat in the back and took out my books. I then sat there like I had no clue what I was doing. People were laughing at me, I knew they were. People glanced at me and I pulled my hair farther down into my face. I sat in shame and looked at my books.
“Okay class, take out your homework” The teacher told the class. I unfolded my notebook and looked at my neatly done math homework. I always go home and do my work straight away. I was proud of myself with my school work and homework. I get straight A’s but I despise my teachers. They thought it would be so funny to call on the freak in the back corner of the room for the answer.
“Katherine, what is the answer to #21?” I looked at my notes but my eyes went blurry with tears. My faced burned up and I knew people were staring at me.
“Uh, it- its- uh. . . 25” I said through a shaking jaw.
“Very good, now Joe what is . . . .?” He trailed off going on to another kid and I could feel everyone’s eyes move to the other student.
When I got home I ran in and set out my homework to do it. As I took out my math work, I remembered my day in math class. The embarrassment and shame I felt. More tears came down and I let out a sob. I hated myself. I hated the way people viewed me. I wish I could be someone else. . . anyone else.
But if I ever showed people the real me they’d laugh. They would think I was more of a freak than I already was. But I guess I should get used to the way people view me. . . I’ll always be a freak.
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Short Stories-Creative Writing Class
Short StoryHey Everyone! So these are all stories that I had to write in my Creative Writing class! I'm not looking for comments or votes on any of these stories, there just for the reader to enjoy and read. . . although it would be great to hear what you thin...
