I tap my pencil against my long desk in time the the rhythm of the clock, and look around the room. The class sits impatiently, talking loudly even though Joanna- our teacher(or Mrs. Jackson as they call her)- will no doubt be back any second.
Harris turns towards me, his dark eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiles. "What do you think the new kid will be like? "
I flip my sketch pad over and scribble on it, then turn it back over. He reads it, and shrugs.
"Yeah they'll probably turn into one of the populars, but you think they'll be nice? Some of them are nice, you know. "
I shrug, but shake my head too. I honestly don't think so. Most of the kids that come here end up in the popular crowd, and add to the list of torturers this school already has to do with.
"Saige, can you give this to Ashley?"
I turn, grabbing hold of the note Khalia hands to me, and toss it onto the desk diagonal from me.
Dirty-blonde hair, blue eyes, and the perfect figure describes Khalia perfectly. She's very popular, but isn't that mean, once she knows you aren't trying to compete for her spot at the popular's table.
It would be nice to be as pretty as her really. Or as liked. People like me okay, and I don't have any bullies, but I find myself wanting more. Maybe I'm just bitter from loneliness...
Ashley smiles at me briefly, and unfolds the note.
Harris takes my sketchpad, and doodles on it randomly. I hear the click-clack of Joanna's heels coming down the hallway, and snatched my sketchpad back, scribbling on it. Then I bang it on the desk, and hold it up in the air.
"Teacher," they warn each other, and shut up.
She walks in, and and stalks to her desk, not looking up. "Don't act all innocent now, I could hear you at the end of the hall. Saige, stop telling them when I'm coming, honey. Let them get in trouble if they want to."
A few guys laugh and slap high fives, and the girls roll their eyes and focus on their phones.
Hair not straying a centimeter from where it's been sprayed into subjection, she stalks over to the board and picks up the chalk. Her outfits fit her personality perfectly: prim, proper, and no-nonsense, and today is no different.
She wears a black-knit sweater with a brown belt around her waist, a pair of black slacks, and brown wedge heels. A row of silver bangles decorate her right wrist, jingling as she writes.
"Read chapters fifteen through twenty in your science books. Whatever you don't finish is your homework."
Everyone groans, and she spins around, and piercing them with glare. "Quiet, or I'll start giving out detentions. We will go over these chapters tomorrow, and there might be a pop quiz so you'd better pay attention to what you read."
They all go quiet instantly, and I smile to myself. With some teachers, you can get away with alot, but Joanna...she means every word that comes out of her mouth. I've seen her hand out detentions like holloween candy.
But right now, I'm sure everyone is thinking the same thing I am.
Jasmine raises her hand, her eyes still on her cell phone in the other. Her raven-black hair swishes with the movement. "Didn't you go to get the new kid? Where is she?"
Mrs. Jackson crosses her arms, leaning against the front of her desk. "Excited are you?"
She shrugs. "I just want to be the first to give her a warm welcome."
Yeah right. She just wants to make sure there wont be anymore competition for her.
"You seem so sure it's a girl. What if it's a boy? " Or there might be more than one."
Well... That's highly unlikely. We've gotten at least five new students since the beginning of the year, all girls. I can get why everyone thinks it'll be another girl.
"They'll be getting here tomorrow."
Haris pushes his textbook to the middle of the desk so I can see it. I smile at him, but only pretend to read. Truthfully, I've already read through it. Eight times, to be exact.
The class is eerily quiet as everyone starts to either read, or text behind their textbooks. Did Mrs. Jackson really mean to say they? More than one new student... That'll be a definite first.
"Saige, are you sure you don't want to come to movies with us? You never come. You have to be lonely..."
I shrug at Sabrina, taking my books out of my locker, and putting them in my bag. Then I write a reply on my sketchpad, holding it up for them.
They sigh. "Your parents are so strict. How do you live like that? "
I just shrug again, and and sling my bag on my shoulder, giving them a Last smile before walking past and out the door. Students crowd around me, but I feel a rush of happiness, not irritation.
The sun beats down on my head and I tilt my head up to it gratefully. Being cooped up in a classroom all day is really starting to kill me. I need sun, or it just seems like I'm about to pass out. I'm also hopelessly claustrophobic, which doesn't help in a school as tightly packed as this one.
Nature just seems to calm me down. Bright colors and foods also make me happy. I only drink water, and eat fruits and vegetables. Just the smell of meat and all the processed food out there makes me physically sick.
In my car, I sigh, leaning back to relax before starting the engine and making my way home. As usual, however, I end up in the grocery store parking lot...and then inside, and buying things I don't really need.
"Oatmeal: check, pasta:check, unneeded candies:check..." I sigh, looking down at my cart.
Shopping is one of my favorite things to do. No, not because I'm a shopaholic, not obsessed with spending money. I like it because at the end of a long, stressful day at school, where I'm made to feel like an alien sometimes, I come here to the store, and feel like I belong with these people.
There's a mix of Blacks, Whites, Asians, Hispanics, blue-eyed people, green -eyed people, short and tall... So many different body types and personalities. I seem normal, whether I speak or not.
A little girl runs past, long black hair streaming out behind her, and I smile, walking to the register.
The man at the register smiles fondly at me as I load my items onto the belt.
"Saige," he acknowledges, checking out my stuff. "How have you been?"
I smile somewhat sadly at him, and he nods. "Not a very good day, huh? Don't be too sad now, alright? I can always count on a smile from you, kid. Keep your head up for us all."
Pulling out a twenty, I hand it to him, and he prints my recipt , handing me my change. I pick up my bags, and walk around the counter, slipping the ten dollar bill in his pocket. With a final grin, I walk out of the store and to my car, putting the bags in the trunk. Then I start the short drive home.
It makes me sad when that cashier calls me kid... I wish he knew how wrong he is...
With as little traffic as there is, it literally takes me only about eight minutes to get home.
When I park in my garage, I sit back and let out a sigh.
I really don't want to go in right now. Go in to a parentless house with no one to talk to. School is my safe haven, away from all the quiet. Sabrina was right... I AM lonely.
Getting out of the car, I go to the trunk and grab my groceries before going to unlock the door to my house, and let myself in. I push my shoulder against the door to close it behind me, and walk to put the bags on the table.
My sneakers make a dull thumping noise on the white tile floors as I walk back and forth, putting things away.
Finished, I grab my bag, and some fresh melon, and pad into the living room to do watch tv, not bothering to touch my homework. I'll just fill in the answers before class tomorrow.
My living room is the happiest room in my house, and the saddest. The cream-colored plush carpeting threatens to swallow my feet whole as I make my through. I take off my sneakers and continue.
Three red leather sofas sit in a U shape in front of my 70" plasma, which sits on a blue glass tv stand, and to either side of that sit my video game consoles and games.
On the other side of the room however, standing tall and mighty against the bright green walls, sitting on bookcases made of fine oak wood, sit the secrets I have to hide. The reason I have to be alone. Why I can't get too close to anyone.
The shelves don't hold secrets too terrifying. They aren't my secret collection of human bones from people I've murdered, or a stash of illegal drugs. These things revealed something much more... unnatural.
On each shelf, each protected by a thin plastic covering, sit my high school diplomas, graduation tassels and trinkets. I've put them in order according to date.
The oldest one, yellowed and written with ink and a feather back then...
It's dated 1782.
The 18th century.
I am exactly two hundred and thirty years old.