The Outcast.

Post 8.

Dear you,

I guess I'm sorry that I didn't elaborate much earlier. It's just that what happened on my first day was...something that I wanted to talk to my therapist about  first.

On my first day of school, which was Wednesday, I talked to someone. And not just  any someone. A guy. Usually things like this don't end up too well for me. Like Caper. But me, being the stupid fool I am, let a little bead of hope sprout in my chest at the encounter.

I saw him in Math class, and deep down, I felt like I knew him...from somewhere in the past. I couldn't place his face, though I felt a strong familiarity towards him.

The teacher, Ms. Abbey, got our attention and did the one thing that freaks like me hate. She told us to get into groups. In that moment, I felt alone (like I usually do). You'd think that after twelve different schools, a thing like being forcibly placed into groups wouldn't matter that much to me. Well, it does. And here's why:

If you have never been in a situation where no one knows you, or even cares to know you, doing group activities can prove to be very...difficult. I have had many bad experiences when it comes to groups and this time, I stood like an idiot in the middle of the classroom while everyone else milled around me and found kids they knew.  

I closed my eyes for a moment and decided to pick a group at random. When I opened them, I saw a group of girls and I hesitantly headed towards them. They saw me approaching and the looks on their faces when they saw that I was headed towards them gave me a foreboding feeling in the pit of my stomach. I kept walking though, and it felt like forever until I finally reached them.

I heard them giggle to themselves as I opened my mouth to speak and I instantly regretted my decision to approach them. I stood there for a moment with my mouth open and nothing came out. Their giggles just became louder. I had a flashback from a time long ago when I was picked on by girls that I considered my friends and I just froze there for what felt like ages. Their giggles sounded exactly the same as the ones in that group. Why is it that when people laugh at you, their laughs always have the same demeaning, sarcastic, condescending tone? The sound haunted me.

Then, from behind a voice spoke up, breaking me out of my personal torment.

"Hey, um..new girl? Do you want to join my group?" It was a guy. Even though I knew he was referring to me, it took a moment to respond because I had to shake off the feelings that the memories brought to me.

When I turned around, I saw that it was a guy. It was the guy. The one I felt was familiar.

"Yeah, sure." I lowered my eyes to the ground as blood rushed to my face. I could still hear the echoes of the laughter. I quickly crossed the room and joined his group. There were two other people in it. Averting their eyes, I focused mine on the table.

"Thanks," I said quietly.

"No problem," he replied. After a moment, he cleared his throat and I looked up. The teacher had passed out the papers and the boy handed me one. He then introduced me to the group (I changed all of the names).

"Anyway, this here is Caleb Morrow" he said gesturing to the dark haired boy to the left of him. "This is Traci Smith," he pointed to the brown skinned girl on the other side of Caleb. "And I am Tyson Jacobs."

And that's when I remembered who he was. Tyson Jacobs. The mysterious boy from my past. The emotions that I had fought so hard to keep down bubbled up.

 I got up, walked out of class and out of the school. 

And so today, I went to my therapist. He didn't know what to say because I wouldn't tell him what had happened between Tyson and I in the past. I don't know if I'll ever tell him.

The Outcast.