Shine, Dream, Smile

To Friendship and Jams!

Megan

I flip open my pink binder while walking in the school hallway on Tuesday morning. From Monday to Friday, my classes are from 7am to 3pm. My lunch break is from 11-12.

"Ah!" I collide into someone, sending our stuff arcing through the cold air. "I'm so sorry," I blurt out, dropping on my wide knees to collect her textbooks.

"You again?" she exclaims, her voice familiar.

I look up, and my heart freezes over. It's Audrey Henson. Audrey, with her long golden hair, lime green eyes, flawless skin, and perfect bone structure. Does she always wear an orange blouse?

"S-sorry," I stammer, handing her books to her.

We stand up, facing each other in silence for a few moments. Then she breaks the ice: "Stop being so shy and passive. It's annoying," she says, looking irritated. "I deliberately crashed into you to see how you'd react. Do you always apologize even though it's not your fault?"

"Um.. I.. can't help it.." I cast my brown eyes down to my brown leather boots.

"Yes you can. You have to try. Otherwise, you'll stay in a rut forever."

"Are you.. being nice to me?" I ask, mustering all my courage to meet her fierce gaze.

"I'm only giving you advice. Don't get ahead of yourself, Hernandez."

Blinking in surprise, I ask, "How do you know my name?"

"Are you kidding? Everyone's talking about what happened last Sunday. The guy with long black hair and blue eyes.. his name is Mark Gutierrez. I'm merely telling you this as a warning. You seem like a decent person, so I hope you watch your back. You'll never know when someone will stab it."

And with that, Audrey turns on her heel. But before she can walk too far away, I call out: "Thanks! And I like your top!"

She doesn't look back, but I notice her almost imperceptible pause. I check the clock on my phone. Ten minutes before my 7am class; I better hurry or I'll be tardy.

When I reach the classroom, there are only two seats left, and they're both in the first row.

The professor is tall and slim with a sleek black ponytail and pretty Chinese features. She's sporting a dark pink blazer over a crisp white shirt, black pencil skirt, and black kitten heels.

She stands behind the wooden lectern on the higher platform and starts taking attendance. "Okay. Let's start roll-call," she announces, clicking her pen open. When she reaches the letter G, I stiffen. "Mark Gutierrez? Is Mark Gutierrez present?" she asks, but when her query is met with silence, she grimaces, muttering, "Absent."

"Hernandez?" she continues. "Megan Era Hernandez?"

"Here," I squeak, raising my chubby arm.

Behind me, I can hear a couple of people whispering. "Where have I heard that name before?"

"Megan Era Hernandez? It does sound familiar, don't you think?"

"No way. She can't possibly be the same girl. She's too fat and unattractive."

"Yeah, you're right. I guess my eyes are playing tricks on me." They laugh.

That was a close one. But still, their vitriol stung. Why do people have a habit of teasing me about my weight? I'm the one carrying the excess baggage! Would it kill them to show a tiny sliver of respect--

"Sorry not sorry I'm late. I didn't want to be here," says a guy striding into the lecture hall. His wild black hair sweeps over his shoulders, and it seems, no matter what he wears underneath, he'll always put on that sky blue jacket over his shirt and pants. Over his left shoulder is a black backpack, which he rudely dumps on the table-space in front of me, and I flinch.