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The once shrouded in mist, Evansville Junior High, slowly grew larger as
I approached it on my faded, rusty bike. When I arrived for my first
day of 7th grade at the front of the weathered building, it seemed to
call to me. The flag pole's paint was flaking, the parking lot had
far too many potholes and the school itself had ivy tendrils growing
up towards the roof of the sandy-colored, brick building. I felt it
had been through too many storms and tornadoes, as hardly any
original pieces of the structure were still in place. I dismounted my
bike with carelessness and lazily chained it up to the rusted bike
rack. I rested on the cracked concrete bench and did one last
inventory of my backpack, gladly I had everything. I quickly zipped
up my gray and lime backpack and proceeded to the glass door. When I
opened the door, a wave of dust flew into my nostrils, I couldn't
help but smile at the scent. For some reason, the smell of school had
always appealed to me. I walked through the door, with hopes of
starting a new school year in hand.

On the left, I saw a hallway leading to what looked like the band hall, next to it was the
school office. Women dressed in different colored skirts and blouses
walked around the office frantically printing papers, organizing
files, speaking to what looked like the principal and typing away on
their keyboards. I felt a little bad for them, assuming this was one
of the busiest days of the year. One lady that caught my attention
was a larger woman, her neck-length hair was grayed from age, and her
skin was a bit wrinkly, but welcoming hazel eyes and a warm smile all
the same. She wore large bifocals that looked a bit outdated, and a
one piece, pink floral design dress.

I proceeded to the lunch tables to wait for home room to begin. The scent of breakfast wafted
through the air, it smelled of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. I could
taste them, right there and then. Ooh, I imagined how good it might
taste, but I dismissed the thought, as I knew we couldn't even afford
to get something like that.

I saw a table that only seated one person, so I decided to sit there. I had already started to spot the
groupies. Of course, the "cool" kids, some slightly larger
guys, a group of girls clicking away on their smart-phones, the nerds
and the nobodies.

Who needed to talk, anyway? I just wanted to get to class.

Cautiously laying my head down on to my
backpack, I started to doze off, and attempted to block out the
buzzing of the crowd with my arms. I was exhausted, and needed all
the sleep I could get for the day that lied ahead. What seemed like a
few minutes later, I heard a voice with a heavy Japanese accent. I
peeked up to find a petite janitor with a maroon uniform shirt that
was wrinkled and creased, with a name tag sewn on it. She was also
wearing jeans and white tennis shoes. None of her apparel looked to
be that new, and was probably all bought from thrift shops. Her sandy
blonde hair was pulled into a quick bun. The woman stared at me with
her brown eyes, for what seemed like ages. Suddenly, she curtly
stated that I was sleeping, and missing my first class. I swiftly sat
up, with a bewildered look in my eyes. It was then that it hit me,
the absence of the other kids communing. I did a quick look around
the room, only to find a few other janitors mopping the floor,
cleaning tables and dusting.

Surprisingly, she said, "Another
thing you might want to know, I found this piece of paper taped to
your back." I focused on the woman's hand, and saw a piece of
notebook paper gripped lightly in her left hand.

In permanent marker, the words "Do Not Disturb" were poorly written on
the paper. Immediately, a flood of anger ran through me, but I didn't
let it show. I politely thanked the woman, and grabbed my pack and
threw it over my shoulder.

Trying to calm down, I nervously ran my fingers through my hair. “What kind of person would even
want to pull something like this?” I thought.

Heading towards my first class, I spat in disgust. I had no clue why anyone
would want to do this, or how it would bring them any form of
pleasure.



“Have we as humans, degenerated so far that we need to do something like
this to bring us some form of distorted joy?” I pondered.

But little did I know, the hard times were only beginning. I noticed then
that my hands were balled up into fists and my knuckles were starting
to turn white. I unclenched my fists and refocused on finding my
first class.

I arrived to the maroon door, and looked through
the centered, glass pane. The walls were simple, they were made out
of large bricks covered in a thick layer of white paint. I saw a
class that was well lit, and full of kids not giving one ounce of
attention to their teacher. Different varieties of posters hung on
the walls, accompanied by the school's schedule. Most of the desks
were very worn, obviously as old as the school itself.

Looking at me, the kids concealed their hand-held devices. Soon after, the
whole class was looking at me with inquisitive stares, except for a
few boys in the back, who were attempting to hide their
snickering.

The teacher caught on and came to the door. Her
blonde hair seemed to be losing it's youthful glow and was starting
to gray. She mustn't have been around 50 years old and she had a
petite frame. Emerald eyes stared at me through the window pane,
along with dark eyelashes that complimented the eyes. She was
sporting a school spirit shirt and jeans. Since this was my first
class, and the room number matched the one on my schedule, I assumed
this was Mrs. Burroughs.

Timidly, I reached for the round,
silver door knob. Expecting a cool, metallic feeling, I was surprised
when I felt a jolt of static electricity jump to my hand.
Instantaneously, I yelped and pulled my hand back.

Mrs. Burroughs opened the door and invited me in with a warm smile. Oddly,
it was as if she was completely naïve to my tardiness.

I awkwardly walked through the door frame, bracing for the worst. When
suddenly, I heard a soft voice say,

"Hey, look. It's the first day of school. Kids being pranked or just being late is very
common the first day of school. I've been in your place before, and I
understand. Let's forget you were late, have a seat."

Compassion radiated through her eyes and her words, something I had never
experienced. I could tell she loved her job. Nodding and smirking
slightly, I spotted a seat in the far back of the freezing cold room.
I quickly walked to the back of the classroom, trying not to trip on
everybody's bags and things.

/chapter

"...and this concludes our lesson for the day!" Mrs. Burroughs said as the
bell rang, with obvious dissapointment, as clearly sh was not done with her lesson.
"Make sure to be to your next class in under 5
minutes or you will be late!" She announced as kids scrambled to
get to their next class. The class room was a ghost town in a matter
of seconds. I was still in the back of the class, putting away my
notes and pencil. One girl was still there, however. From what I
heard during class, her name was Claire. She sat at the front of the
class, so I only caught a glimpse of her when I came into the room at
the beginning of class. Most of what I saw of her was her hair.


She had wavy, golden brown hair that hung just below her shoulders. Her
skin was lightly tanned, she looked to be average height, she was
fairly skinny and she wore high-end, designer clothes by the looks of
it.

Heaving the backpack over my shoulder, I briskly walked to
the teacher's desk, where Mrs. Burroughs was sitting in her navy blue
office chair, looking over papers and typing on her computer and
wearing those stereotypical, thick-lens glasses resting on the brim
of her nose.

I didn't want to disturb her, as it looked like
she was busy preparing for the next class.

"Uhm," I said, second guessing myself. "That was a very kind thing you
did, Mrs. Burroughs. Thank you very much, it really means a
lot."

"Of course," she said kindly. I knew she loved her job, I could see it in her eyes. Just looking at her made
me feel all fuzzy inside, like when you eat a warm cookie and hot
chocolate, something I had never felt before, but I loved it. There
was nothing I could put my finger on, but there was definitely
something special about her...

Shuffling my feet quietly, I left the room, realizing that I had more classes to get to. I started
down to the left, then I looked back, and I saw Claire had done the
same. I wanted to talk to her, be her friend... But I just didn't
know if I could. I wasn't good enough for her. What if she hated me?
What if she shouted at me in front of everyone? Or even hated me
already? Numbing shards of fear and anxiety shot into my heart, and I
dismissed every thought of her. I turned my head forward and tried
not to bump into the kids that still remained in the halls.

Although many were in their next classes, the halls were still filled with
people slamming their lockers shut and hurrying away. I pulled the
crushed, manila colored paper that had my schedule on it, out of my
pocket. I gazed over it, and saw that my next class was Writing,
located in room 207. Attempting to navigate through the maze of a
school, I eventually found my way to Writing...
/chapter

Finishing my 3rd period, I was wondering if my Dad had taken the liberty to add
some money to my school food account. I packed all my books and
notebooks into my backpack and waited for the teacher to dismiss us.
As soon as she did, there was a flurry of movement and almost
everyone was gone in an instant.

Why don't they just wait?
It's likely that there are classes closer than ours that have already
been released to go to lunch and have made a line.

Over the course of about 10 minutes, I made my way to the front of the lunch
line. I don't know why, but school food always had this specific
taste that I liked. *Ding* Went the card scanner, when it scanned my
card.

"You need to get money on your card, kid."
Mumbled the lunch lady with a white apron and a blue and white
checkered shirt on. The hairnet she wore held her gray hair close to
her head. I sighed, nodded my head and trudged my way over to the
lunch tables.

Of course he didn't put any money on the card.
What was I expecting, him to actually do something?

Surprisingly,
Claire was sitting at a table by herself. I was shocked, because I
thought she was one of those people that would hang out with her BFFs
and what not.

Should I at the table with her?

I thought to myself. Fear of rejection crept into my mind, and soon it had
thrown my mind into chaos. Awkwardly, I stood at the front of the
tables, trying to decide what I was going to do.

Should I sit in the back, by myself? Sit next to Claire? But...

I had enough to deal with at home. Maybe I could use school to get away
from all that. I could just numb the pains with learning, which also
ensured that I would never become like my father. I resented him so
much I could barely control myself around him. If I was not perfect,
I was a worthless piece of trash to him. I would not become like him.
Ever.

After a chilling feeling, I shut the thought out of my
mind and tried to continue with my life. After serious contemplation,
I decided to sit alone. Could I run the risk of getting embarrassed
the first day of school, then deal with it for the rest of the school
year?

Weeks went by where I didn't really know what I was
doing anymore. I feel as if I had lost all purpose. Life was hollow,
I only went through the motions. Truly, the only thing that made me
hold onto life was my little sister. I couldn't abandon her, so I
stayed.

/chapter

It was a specifically normal day, I
walked normally to the lunch room and got my lunch. Heading towards
the tables, I noticed today was anything but a normal day for Claire.
As her hair was frizzy, she wore no accessories such as hair bands or
jewelry, her clothes were wrinkled and did not match. It looked as
though she woke up late and did not care in the slightest what people
thought of her. She sat completely alone, at the furthest table.

Had she broken up with her boyfriend? More importantly, did she even have
a boyfriend? Probably not. Looked
like this was my chance.

But what if she was in a terrible mood and does something out of the
ordinary? What if she throws a huge fit or yells at me? Then again,
if she was sad it might be a good time to connect with her,
sympathize and become her friend. That's what I had longed for,
dreamt about, right?


I had to take the chance. Why had I wasted the time thinking about it
anyway? I prayed that I was ready, and carefully made my way over to
the table Claire was at. She had seemed to be in her own little
world, and didn't notice me walking up. She was slumped over, laying
on her arm on the table. Her hair was strewn about, over her face and
arm.


“Uhm...”
I barely managed to utter a word when I had sat down at the seat
across from Claire. Suddenly, a burst of sobs came from her. Her
breathing was uncontrollable, as was her body. “Are... you
alright?” I asked redundantly; as she was obviously not okay. I
wanted to console her, except I had no idea how.