3 - Bright Red Slushie

Choosing the perfect first day of school outfit was always important to me, but it had never been more critical than right now.

I took a lot of pride in my outfits, restoring a lot of them myself. With this pride came an overflowing collection of clothing, which meant more choices, which meant the possibility to make a poor choice.

I sifted through the outfits that I had hung up already, but nothing felt right for the moment. I glanced at the boxes of projects that I had yet to unpack and wondered if there might be something better. I was pretty fast at restoring outfits, and my grandma liked to joke that I had a team of mice helping me. However, I am not sure if making something new the morning before school was the best bet.

I ended up settling on a faded mint-green two-piece that I had saved from a budget bin. It had initially been a beach-set, but sewing a second layer on the inside of the shorts ensured that it wouldn't be see-through and may be perfect for the first day.

I pulled off my loose silk pyjama set and slid the shorts over my hips. I did a french tuck, letting the loose, thin t-shirt hang freely over most of my body. With a twirl, I was sure this was perfect. I tied my wavy blonde hair up in a ponytail with a similar coloured scrunchie from my vast collection and put on minimal makeup. I was a bit chilly in my air-conditioned room, but it was going to be hot out today. I was a bit nervous, so it was better to wear shorts and minimal makeup, maybe then my sweat marks wouldn't show.

I grabbed my old backpack before rushing downstairs. I had filled it with a pre-packed lunch and a few pens and paper. Although I had received my class list from the school, I was not exactly sure what else I would need just yet.

After a quick breakfast of oatmeal, I threw on a pair of beige toms and waved bye to my dad, who asked me again if I wanted a ride from him. I declined for the fifth time and got in my car. I was excited to drive to school for the first time. There were going to be a lot of firsts today, but at least I could be excited about one of them.

I know I could technically walk to school from my house, but what is the fun in that when you have a brand new car?

I spent the last two weeks memorizing the ten-block radius around my house, so driving to school took me no time. I had driven around the parking lot a few times, familiarizing myself with the area, but pulling in when it was overflowing with students was a much different experience. Maybe I should have let myself get lost this morning.

Flashes of all the movies I had binged this summer came through my head. I have never been the new kid before, and I didn't want to make myself an easy victim. I shake my head, "those are just movies, Betty." I said quietly to myself. Students at my old school had welcomed the new kids, why would this school be any different?

Locking my car and trying to ignore my racing heart, I made my way towards the main office. I was going to meet my first class teacher, who was going to escort me to class. It was a tactic from the school that I liked. I was much less nervous meeting my teacher than any potential friends.

The main office was at the front of the school, making it easy for me to find my way inside to the young teacher waiting for me.

"Hi, you must be, Betty! I am Ms. Rosie, your first block Spanish teacher!" She held out her hand, and I already felt better.

"Hi, Ms. Rosie," I said, shaking her hand.

Ms. Rosie had her black curly hair tied in a loose bun at the back of her head. She was wearing bright colours, and she had a big grin on her face. She was young, probably in her early-30's, and she seemed exceptionally friendly for a high school teacher.

"Would you like to head to the classroom early?" I nodded. I was not ready to roam the hallways and meet anyone just yet.

I follow her down the hall, and we enter a classroom with student projects covering the wall. The classroom is colourful and bright, just like her. I place my backpack on a desk close to Ms. Rosie.

"¿Hablas español?" she asks me.

"Un poco. Mi mejor amiga es española," I answered shakily. I was never the best at languages; however, because of Carla's family, I was okay in Spanish.

Ms. Rosie laughs, "That is already better pronunciation than the majority of my students. You are going to do just fine here!"

I grinned and took my seat. Ms. Rosie handed me a Spanish textbook before moving to her desk.

"Tell me about your best friend," Ms. Rosie requested.

I looked at her, skeptically "in Spanish?" I asked.

She laughed again, "no, English is fine."

I smiled and told her a little bit about Carla and her family, and how we have known each other our whole lives. I told her how moving was a big shock, and she sympathized with me. Ms. Rosie told me she moved here from Mexico when she was ten years old, and although the first few years were rough, she found good friends eventually and learned to love this city.

I smiled at her, that was nice, but I didn't want to make friends after a few years.

Other students start trickling in a few minutes before class, and Ms. Rosie began to write on the smartboard, effectively ending our pleasant conversation. Most students look at me curiously, but no one said hi. I should've, but I needed to build myself up before I could get there.

I was very much isolated from the groups taking seats near the back of the class until a boy sits next to me and introduces himself as Georgie. I introduce myself to him; however, he didn't talk much after that, instead choosing to lean down on the desk and stare at Ms. Rosie.

I look between him and our teacher, and I swear I could see heart emojis come out of his eyes.

Soon after Georgie sat down, the final bell rang, and Ms. Rosie launched us headfirst into our introductory lesson.

The class was easier than I had expected, and when the bell rang, signalling the end of class, I was surprisingly disappointed. Ms. Rosie made me feel at ease in this new classroom setting, and I was not ready to face the next classroom.

I waited for the rest of the students to leave so that I could thank Ms. Rosie and maybe avoid heading out in the hallway.

"What's your next class?" Ms. Rosie asked me before I got a word in.

I pulled out my itinerary, "Um, senior history."

"Oh, I was right; you are bright! Let me show you over there." I smiled at her. I was grateful that she took the time to walk me over so I could avoid getting lost for just a little while longer.

We walked to the next hallway, and she introduced me to my new history teacher, Mr. Gregory. He was an older man and much less smiley than Ms. Rosie, but his eyes lit up when she walked into the room. I guess she had that effect on everyone at this school.

Mr. Gregory handed me my textbook for the year, and I sat down in a middle row to the side of the room. The desk next to me stayed empty, so I effectively met no one in my second class.

I tried to pay attention to the class, but I always found History tiresome. The only reason I was in senior History is that I had already completed the junior requirements in this school district. I did not argue because I might as well get History over and done with, and then I could avoid it Senior year.

At the end of the History class, I noticed a group of boys staring at me. One of them tried to catch my eye, but I looked away from the boys, my heart racing. Why was I such a loser? Maybe they just wanted to be friends. However, I continued to avoid their stares as I made my way to my locker to put my two new textbooks inside before I found my third class.

After finding my locker, it took me two tries to get it open. I placed my textbooks inside before shutting it, realizing that maybe I shouldn't head straight to Maths since we have a good 20-minute break, and I hate Maths.

I leant against the locker and stared at my phone.

no new messages

Would it be annoying to call Carla?

While I was contemplating, a locker door slammed next to me, and I jumped. Who opens lockers that aggressively? I peer around the locker door to see the culprit and find myself staring at the same boy from the other week. He seemed even taller now that I was this close to him... and not sitting in a car.

I hope he doesn't catch me staring again, but I desperately wanted to see if his eyes are as blue as I remembered.

I guess I was distracted by the beautiful boy, because I didn't notice the boys from my History class walking towards me, and I definitely didn't notice the bright red slushie.

But even if I had, would I have ever guessed what they were going to do with it?

For a moment, all I could hear was laughter from the boys standing around me, but I could feel everything.

The freezing slushie seeped into my shoes and soaked into my clothes. I drop my ruined backpack, and I wiped my phone screen on the part of my shorts that didn't get hit. I was too shocked to do anything but stand there.

When the laughter stopped, I felt as if I had just awakened from a bad dream to an even worse reality because it took me a minute to register that a fight broke out beside me.

Fists were flying. The handsome boy with the blue eyes was on top of the boy from my History class who had just thrown his drink at me.

I could barely hear my screams to stop over the cheers from my new classmates. I not only hate fighting, but it feels like this is my fault.

The handsome boy looks up at me, and I catch his eye. They are as blue as I remember. He scoffs and gets off of the boy, who now has a busted lip.

The crowd promptly disperses as a teacher makes their way into the hallway. The only proof of any fight now being my bright red face and stained clothes.

Instead of going to the teacher, I followed the handsome boy down the hallway, leaving my slushied backpack on the ground beside my locker.

"Hey! Come back!" I called out.

He stopped.

"What do you want?" He turned, asking sternly.

I hesitated. His voice was a bit deeper than I expected and a lot harsher than I would have imagined, but I still want to thank him for standing up for me, even if he did it in a way I didn't fancy.

"I just want to say thank you, I guess, even though that was unnecessary," my voice shook slightly, but I did my best to smile. I was cold, nervous and upset. Even in my worst nightmares, I had not seen the day going like this. However, he did something for me, so I will thank him and smile.

His stern look turned into a cruel sounding laugh, and my smile faltered.

"I wasn't trying to help you, okay? That idiot Jackson got slushie on my shoes."

I look down at his feet. Oh. He did, and it seemed like the red will stain his white shoes.

"Oh. Sorry." I stammer out.

He stops, "why are you apologizing?"

I don't answer his question as it seems redundant, and instead, I asked one of my own, "why did he do that to me?"

He frowns, "If I tell you, will you leave me alone?"

It is strange if even though our first interaction has been anything but pleasant that for some stupid reason, I didn't want to leave him alone?

He stared at me funny, and I guess I took too long to answer because he mutters "Jesus" and walked away.

I look down at my feet and feel the cold air conditioning hit me. The reality of what happened has sunk in, and my lip quivers. I can't stay here. I want to go home.

I sulked back to my bag and sat down next to it, taking off my shoes, which were completely covered in the slushie. I pulled my bag to my chest. This outfit may be okay in the end, but my bag may not survive. I unlock my phone and call my dad.

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2226

"You forgot what she looks like in like a day

But your words don't hurt me

I will be OK" - Grace VanderWaal

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