Help?

One;

All Time Low is blaring in my ears as the cloudy streets with lit windows pass by. I can see my mom’s lips moving but I pretend I don’t notice, hoping she will stop talking so I don’t have to fight with her, just not today. Suddenly, she smacks me on the shoulder.

I take out my left headphone, “Do we have a problem?” I say solemnly, hoping she understands I’m not in the best of moods.

“Don’t you dare start! I was asking you if you had all the stuff you need for today? Look, I know you don’t want to do this, and I’m sorry, but I need you to at least try to be nice, okay?” She looks at me as if I was a dying cat in need of attention.

“Stop stressing, please? I’m the one doing this, not you. You’ll survive. Me on the other hand...”

I look out my window and my heart stops for a moment. I see a huge lit sign that says “East Central High School”. My mom pulls into the parking lot and as she does, I see about five different groups of ignorant teenagers sitting outside. There are the stupid jocks next to their gorgeous girlfriends with short tempers, the dirty hippies playing their acoustics laughing along with the sound of their tripped out creativity, the not-so-mainstream hipsters wearing snapbacks and button up shirts with sleeves in August, the very mainstream girls who smoke cigarettes while scrolling through their phones, posting on Tumblr 24/7 with their skater-boy lovers connected to them at the hip, and lastly there’s the girls with chokers and black lipstick clinging onto their boyfriends with black eyeliner. Great, I’ll fit in just great.

My mom tucks my hair behind my ear and rubs my cheek with her thumb, “Please try and be nice. I know it’s not your fault you have to come here, just don’t start anything.”

I laugh as I grab my things and get out of the car, slamming the door behind me. “Yeah, because starting stuff is a personal favorite of mine, right?” I don’t allow her to say anything else so I quickly walk away putting my left ear bud back in and turn the volume up so I can drown out the people around me. I don’t give them the chance to approach me; I just walk into the school and work on finding my locker.

The first thing I see when I walk to my locker is a girl, sitting on the floor reading the morning news paper. She’s wearing a purple and black striped long sleeve shirt with denim short overalls over it and purple converse on. When she notices me, she sets her paper down and jumps up to greet me. I realize she is about four feet tall and has hair nearly down to her waste. She is wearing this lovely bright red lipstick and large nerdy glasses about an inch thick. Her eyes are incredibly magnified because of her glasses but I don’t mind.

“New here aren’t cha?” She has this type of British accent which surprised me.

“Well I guess so, for now at least.”

“Where’d ya get that shiner, eh?”

I had totally forgotten about the black eye and I for sure did not plan on telling her what happened. “Well you see, I woke up one morning pretty sluggish and didn’t realize my tooth paste was on the ground. When I stepped on it, the cap came off and started to bounce off of about a million things. By the time I even thought about ducking, it hit me right in the eye and so now I have this lovely spot to remind me of my idiocy each day.”

She sat puzzled for a long time and then began giggling as she said, “well that’s a story to tell! Anyways, me name’s Ruby and that’s me locker,” She pointed to the one directly next to mine. “So, now we get to be locker buddies, eh?”

I find her presence to be quit delightful and welcoming so I nod and tell her my name. She grabs the schedule from my hand and points me in the direction of my first class. Thanking her, I begin walking alone yet once more. I don’t mind feeling alone. It’s almost been six months since I started feeling really alone. So the loneliness doesn’t crowd me as much anymore. It’s weird when you see fifty to sixty faces pass you by but can’t help but feel anything more than alone.

My classroom number is 232, I have 3D Art and the teacher’s name is Mr. Camin. When I walk in I realize that there are only about ten kids in the class, making it much easier on my anxiety that appears when people do.

“Hello. You must be my new student, Clara?”  He sticks a clenched fist out towards me. I’m guessing he is asking me to ‘fist bump’ him. I uncomfortably smile and nod towards him, not accepting his gesture of welcome. He smiles and gathers the class attention, “I’d like to introduce our new student transferring from West Climb High School, Clara Deeds. Now, Clara, I’m sure you will love this class just as much as I do. Please, sit where you want, I will be doing attendance shortly.”

There’s a girl in the back of the class with her ear buds on probably the highest volume possible. She has long burgundy hair and very dark purple lipstick on, and only because she seems so off-welcoming to anybody, I choose to sit by her hoping I won’t be noticed. She looks up at me as I sit down and takes one of her ear buds out.

“Why did you transfer?” she says this so coldly, goose bumps appear on my arms.

“Uh, you know, girls trying to start stuff and my mom deciding things for me.” She looks at me with her bright blue eyes and dark makeup as if she was peering into my soul. All of a sudden, she smiles.

“You got in a fight.” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“Me? Sadly, no I did not. These spaghetti arms couldn’t fight even if they wanted to.” She smiles a little warmer than before and puts her ear bud back in. Following her lead, I do the same. I open Instagram on my phone and see pictures of my friends from my old school. I miss them horribly. I see the door open and a tall young man walks in wearing ripped jeans and a button-up flannel shirt. He suddenly makes eye contact with me and as he does, he runs his hand through his messy dirty blonde hair and smiles slyly. He sits right in front of me and as doing so I can smell his fresh cologne, making me melt inside.

Mr. Camin begins attendance and so I find out this young man’s name is Jace. After Mr. Camin finishes attendance he passes out everyone’s folder, giving me a fresh blue folder with my name fondly written on the left corner. Mr. Camin gives me a piece of paper and tells me to sketch whatever I’d like and not to show it to anyone except him. Having no idea what to draw, I stare at this blank page thinking of everything I love.

“Your eyes are very ravishing.” I freeze as my heart jumps to my throat. I look up and the young man, Jace, is staring at me with his sly smile. I sit there for a moment thinking of what to say. “Are you planning on saying something to me or are you just going to sit there confused?” His attitude urges me to punch him.

“And your smile is very dark,” I say with the same sly look he has, “but I didn’t have to comment on it now did I?” He laughs quietly and ignored my comment.

“Is that real?” He points to the tattoo on my wrist of a little girl dancing in the rain.

“Yes.”

“What’s it for?”

“Innocence.” I respond with one simple word, thinking his idiocy would never understand my complexity.