Not Who You Think I Am...

*~1~*

The day has been drab as always. Extracurricular activities, autographs, magazines, the works. Now, people tell me, "Loser, sign my book! Sign my hand! Sign my CAR!" It's too much for me to keep up with. Now, some people usually can relax at home, right!? Not me. "Practice the violin, piano, and get down to dinner before 8:00!" 

When Mom and Stepdad let me go to my first school, I was pumped. Seven whole hours away from all the stress of day-to-day life! I immediately agreed, smiling ear to ear. I packed my books, shoved them into a backpack and grabbed a white shirt, black pants, and a yellow tie. I set my alarm for 6:00 am and drifted to sleep. 

I screamed when I woke up, my sheets moist. Looking in a hand mirror, my eyes were red, I was panting heavily. There were scratches on my chest, arms, and legs too. A headache pounded as I showered and sprayed on cologne. I put my hair in a loose ponytail and slid down the stair railings, where Mom awaited me with lunch. I kissed her cheek and rushed out the door, praying I'd make it to the bus as I slid off my backpack and put my hoodie on.

When I finally made it to the building, I noticed chattering teenagers way taller than me. I guess I should've eaten a little more, my growth had been a little stunted. I went into the office to receive my schedule, and an older woman greeted me. "Alright, sugar, what's your name?" She asked, typing away. "Loser." I said, and she stopped immediately. "THE Loser?! I am a HUGE FAN! Would you-" She started, and I held up a finger.  

"No. I came for my schedule and that's final." I interrupted, and I snatched the slip of paper from her hand. As I walked down the hallway, I felt the stares of fans drooling and resisting the need for an autograph. I made it as far as corridor 3 until I bumped into what seemed like a girl fumbling with her locket. I tapped her shoulders, and it seemed she was holding her books in her one free hand. They all came thudding to the floor, and when she turned around to glare at me, I realized she was a he. 

I started picking up his books and handed them back to him. "What's your name?" I asked, straightening his bow and handing the books back. "C-Cake. And you must be Loser?" He stuttered. I nodded and patted his back, then I heard the footsteps of pumps. A soft palm touched my shoulder, and I turned around, half hoping and expecting Cake to be there. It was a girl with brown hair and olive skin. Would- would she be important later?

"Hello, young miss! How can I help you?" I asked, and she ran away as quick as she had appeared. I bumped into a taller man, but he was not like anyone else I've seen. His skin was a pale blue, and his hair rested gently on his shoulders. Two blue horns were on his head, and his uniform was blue and white. "LOSER," He screeched at me, and I covered his mouth. He bit my hand, and I held back a scream. "Shh! I can't have any more people here know who I am. Only say my name during class, Okay?" I explained, rubbing my hand.

He nodded, and pointed to the inside of a classroom. Another teacher was typing nervously on the computer and waved at me with a smile. I sat in the back, hoping to draw as little attention possible to me. My friend Cake and some others flooded in the classroom while I was scrolling through Mom's text messages. Things like 'How are you', 'Have you made any friends yet?', and 'How are classes?' filled the recent messages. I plugged in my headphones and opened my downloaded playlist. I only looked up when I heard my name being shouted. "Loser!" A voice squeaked.

I was leaning on my chair and fell. "Oh gosh, is he okay?" was muttered across the room as quick as a house on fire. When another helped me up, I realized it was Cake. I saw my mom out the window sneaking a glance at me.  If there was rage, or disappointment in her eyes, I could have fought fire with fire. But instead of an angry glare, her eyes shone pity, and that was a thousand times worse. "Loser, you need to pay attention. Maybe you could sit next to me?" Cake suggested.

 I nodded silently and let him walk me over. I swear I could've felt the same pity of my mother in everyone else. It made me as disappointed as she was that I was a celebrity that tripped over my own feet. 

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying, and that just made the urge to worse. But the greater the urge, the stronger the pleasures, y'know. But I only let a few fall, so it didn't count, right? Right.

I let the rest of the day pass on in white noise. It didn't matter. I just needed to make sure I look down at all times here. But when I was waiting for my mom, Cake rushed up to me, panting. "L-loser! You dropped something earlier today, when we left lunch. Don't worry, I didn't open it." He puffed. I muttered a thanks before he kissed me on the cheek and waved me goodbye. I didn't even got the chance to say anything back. Not a thanks or a bye, just silence. Maybe that was better.