my life in novel form, part II

By nine o’clock on my third day of high school I was freaking out. I had just barely found my locker and was desperately trying to unload my new books into it. I knew that I only had about 2 more minutes to finish this up and rush to my English class. I loved English but my teacher was already starting to be a square. She was actually quite round, a nice little irony for such a prudish woman. I knew that if I was late I would be publicly reprimanded. My walk became a hustle. Two more doors! The bell sounded and I was three steps into the room. I looked quickly for a seat and found the last one. Our teacher was nowhere to be found. All that rushing for nothing! I quickly sat down. I tried to collect my thoughts, pulling out my notebooks. My heart was still pounding from my run.

“HI!” a face suddenly appeared just inches from mine.

I jumped back in my seat. I couldn’t even reply I was so surprised. The girl sitting in front of me had turned around almost as quickly as I had sat down. And there she was, waiting for me to say something back to her.

“Hi!” she said again. “You must be new here, I’m Noelle. If you need help finding your way around, let me know!”

The face, apparently named Noelle, turned around.

This time, even my thoughts were stammering. I knew that I didn’t have to reply, she hadn’t even waited to hear an answer from me before turning back around. But I was mystified from our short interchange. My emotions changed from bewilderment to anger at myself. Why couldn’t I just be normal and say Hi back to her, or something? What is wrong with me? I must have looked so stupid. She’ll never talk to me again.

Our teacher had arrived and class had officially begun. As I started following along in my textbook I began to study Noelle. The face was attached to a long neck and a slender body. Her face was plain and pretty, her eyelashes danced above murky green eyes. In many ways she reminded me of a giraffe, just without the spots. She was dressed casually in a dark orange tank top and jeans. Her bra strap dangled out of one side. Her hair hung to about her shoulders and appeared to originally be brown, but still had traces of the black it had once been.

My thoughts were interrupted when Noelle raised her hand to answer a question; I hadn’t even heard a question asked. She patiently held her hand in the air, waiting to be called on. It may be stupid, but I had never seen what a bare shoulder looked like when a hand was raised. I was surprised by the way her skin creased above the ball of the shoulder. It was a perfect fold line, like you could hold a piece of paper in it. I began to wonder if my arm would do that too. I raised my right hand and felt with my left to see if my skin creased as well. It did! How cool is that?

“Yes?” the teacher paused and looked down at her seating assignment, “Jenica is it?”

Oh no! The teacher had asked a question, I hadn’t heard it, but like an idiot there I was raising my hand. “Um, could you rephrase the question?”

A low laugh swept through the room.

My teacher, Mrs. Zeirold replied, “The question was: What did you do over the summer?”

First of all, I hate being asked this question upon returning to school. Everyone else has had some amazing experience or vacation, like going to Africa, or surfing in the Caribbean. And I stayed home making as much money as I could to pay the extra bills that summer brings, my parents had less work during the summer because of their schooling schedules. Once a year my family would go to St. George and stay in a cheap hotel and swim for a few days. We couldn’t afford to eat at restaurants so we would bring MRE’s from our food storage. My dad warmed them on the car engine. We didn’t look like we were vacationing, we looked homeless. The typical English assignment is a difficult enough essay for me to turn in, let alone to have to share in front of a classroom full of people with interesting lives.

I lied, “I spent the summer building schools in Mexico.”

Another sweep went through the room, but this one a whisper of admiration.

Dang! Why was I only interesting when I was lying about who I was?

Noelle, turned to me, slower this time, “That’s cool, man.”

I whispered, “I lied.”

She whispered back, “I figured. I have no life either.”
And despite the terror that our first encounter had caused within my heart, we became almost instant friends.