Perception

2

He’s left in silence, stunned at my words. Carefully, he stutters, “W-what do you mean b-by that?”

Shoot.

He doesn’t know. Why did I even think to say that!? My parents told me to never tell anyone about it, and my parents are the most trustworthy people you’ll ever meet, at least about stuff like that!

But surely it wouldn’t hurt to tell just one person? He doesn’t seem like the type to tell anyone else.

“Uuuuuuh,” I breathe, trying to think. Don’t tell him, don’t tell him, don’t tell him my brain keeps telling myself. It’ll all get worse. I can hear my parents calling, scolding me for telling him…

Brrrrrrrrrrriiiiiinnnggg!!!

The bell rings. Dear lord, I have never been more happy.

Wait, have I? I don’t like the people. Scratch that, I have most definitely been happier, but this is the most relief I have felt in the last three years.

“You have the prettiest blue eyes,” one boy says as I pass by. “They match perfectly with your blonde hair.” Sheesh, sometimes I forget how stereotypical the beauty standards of people at my schools are.

A thousand comments fly by as I make my way through the sea of highschoolers. Thankfully they aren’t crowded all around my locker, like dozens of other times before.

One of those real fake looking people with a hundred tons of makeup steps up in front of me, acting like she’s the queen of the world. A troupe of girls follow behind her, giggling all the while as they wait for what they think is a big fight.

Well isn’t this just great. Absolutely dandy. I don’t even know if I know this girl and her lackeys, but they don’t seem like people I’d wanna hang out with. Suddenly I want to be back with that boy I don’t even know the name of in the cafeteria.

“So you think you’re better than me,” she starts. I roll my eyes. “Well you’re not, missy. Just because all the boys swoon over you doesn’t mean you’re the best here!” Jesus, she talks too much.

So I continue on my way. She cries in retaliation, reaching out to me as her troupe laughs at her.

I really wish it didn’t have to be this way, but it is what it is. It’s not like I can do anything about it.

Swiftly walking into the classroom of my next class, I sweep my eyes across the room. It’s a habit of mine, even though I know everyone here at least by their face. Not always names.

Slipping into an empty seat in the back, I sigh. Hopefully this will be better than other days.

“Hey Violet, you look down,” Amber says, sliding into the seat next to me. Her auburn hair is pulled up into a messy bun, and she smiles brightly at me.

Sighing, I simply answer, “I’m fine. Just another day of annoying people.” She grins at this.

“Too many boys flirting with you?” She smirks, earning a hard smack on the arm.

I don’t know what Amber is to me. She couldn’t be a friend. It’s kind of hard to be friends with someone who can’t see what you really look like. Granted, she doesn’t know about my… predicament, so she wouldn’t know. Amber’s just an acquaintance.

The door slams shut, causing quite a few of us to jump loudly, despite the fact that it happens every day. Our history teacher steps up to the front of the room, a stern eye on us all. She glares around the room, but her eyes soften when she looks at me.
Personal preference really screws with people’s heads, don’t it.

And she starts to drone on.

It only takes an instance for me to pull a journal out. Taking notes and… not taking notes at the same time isn’t as hard as you think it is.