It was six in the morning when I finally pulled myself from bed. Six is normally early for me - I usually waited until I had no longer than 15 minutes to prepare for school - but today wasn't any normal day. It was a day, I was sure, that could change my life forever.
Picking up a stack of folded clothes from my bedside table, I shuffled sleepily across the hall to the bathroom, pulled off my nightgown, and hopped into the shower. The hot water pelting against my bare skin drove away the remaining bit of sleepiness. I exited the shower fully refreshed and pulled on the clothes I had picked out for myself the previous night - a dark blue sweater that clung to my curves perfectly, matched with a pair of black jeans. I pulled a comb through my thick curls and washed my face. I rarely wore makeup, besides lipgloss and mascara, feeling that any more than that would take away from the perfect caramel of my skin. It wasn't that I was arrogant enough to believe I had no need for it, but I've never been able to find the right shades to accentuate my natural appearance. For the most part, I risked leaving the house looking like a clown.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror for what seemed hours, a poor attempt at bringing down the anxiety that threatened to consume me. It was my first day at Crestview High, a school that only the richest of children could afford. Though I hadn't come from a rich family, it had been a dream of mine to attend the school that offered the brightest education. It wasn't until the end of my junior year that my mother had saved up enough money (thanks to the multiple jobs she was working) to afford one year of tuition. If it weren't for her, I would be spending my senior year at the same public school where teachers rarely showed up with a positive attitude and the will to teach students to succeed in life. Don't get me wrong, the public school could offer the same education as private schools, but the lack of funding combined with underpaid teachers had proved to be a challenge.
Deciding to skip breakfast, I picked up my backpack, bid my mother goodbye and headed out toward the 1999 Ford Taurus my mother had purchased for me when I got my license at sixteen. Of course I had hoped for something a little more flashy, but it was either a Jaguar or my education. I was mature enough to make the correct decision.
The drive to school took a little over half an hour but it was well worth it. It wasn't until I pulled into the parking lot that my heart sank in my chest. The lot was lined with Jaguars, Porsches, Mercedes, and Escalades - a far cry from the tattered Taurus I was driving. Creeping through the lot in search for a space, I could see the other student's eyes glaring at the car as it pushed past them. A group of girls, standing next to the only available spot, turned their noses up in disgust as I pulled into the space.
"Great first impression," I muttered to myself switching off the ignition and exiting the car with my backpack in tow.
As I made my way to the front office to pick up my schedule, I could hear the remarks of snotty girls along the way. "Who is she?" "O-M-G look what she's wearing." "Did she buy that at Wal-Mart?" "Did you see her car?" "Looks like another poor kid who took her parents life savings to come here." "What a shame."
I ignored the remarks as best I could. It was too late to turn back and reenroll in the public school, having already paid tuition, and being an outcast was a small price to pay for a good education. At least that is what I told myself as I pressed into the front office and gave the clerk my name.
"Ahhhh, Natalie Johnson." The clerk says shuffling through a pile of papers on her desk. When she found the one she was looking for, she pulled it from the pile and handed it to me. "Here is your schedule and at the bottom of it is a map of the school. Goodluck."
With that turned her seat back to the computer and began typing away as if I were no longer there.
"Excuse me, maam?" I say, my voice shaky.
