the other villagers. He’s just wanted someone to accept him for what he is, so he wouldn’t be lonely anymore.” I surprised myself and smiled, but it faded when the stares from the other students turned toward me.
“Ah, so you’ve read it before?” Mr. Luna sounded interested. He asked another question, not giving me time to answer that I’d read it two summers ago when I was going through a major classic faze. “What did he do upon finding Victor in the fields?”
“He told Victor he would leave and never return as long as he would create someone like him to love and love him in return,” I answered. “He also said that Victor, as his creator, had the obligation to do so since it was his fault that he was even made.”
“Very good.” Mr. Luna said, his tone—very enthusiastic. “I can tell you are going to do very well in this class. Well, what’s left of it anyway.”
The bell rung after Mr. Luna had gone further into detail on the story, writing some keynotes to study for the exam that was planned at the end of the week. Some students bolted for the door as if there were a fire burning a few feet away. Sarah, however, stayed behind and waited for me. “Listen, since you’re new here and all, you should eat lunch with me. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’d be super cool if you did. Especially since my best friend in the whole wide world left me and moved to Oregon three weeks ago.” She sighed, “Seriously, who moves to Oregon?” A lot of people, it’s the twenty-seventh most populated state in the United States. Given that Texas is the second, and California—the first. For now anyway.
“Oh, thanks,” I said, swinging the purse around my shoulder. “I’d love to.”
“Your fifth class is right across from my Economics class, so I’ll wait for you in the hall for lunch.” Sarah shuffled the notebook in her hands from one arm to the other, “Now I have to run, because my photojournalism class is in the other wing!”
I headed down the main hall to my next class that was a few doors down. The door was decorated with elaborate decorations of bells and a wreath and was easy to spot. I checked my schedule. Design and Sew? I questioned myself. Is that even a real class? I heard the bell ring just as I ducked into the classroom and crashed into a girl that was standing in the doorway. My things went flying to the floor.
“Idiot!” the girl stammered, whipping her head around to face me. She kicked my phone a few feet away, just as I had reached out to grab it. Her hair, a wild combination of dark brown and blonde highlights, rattled as I looked up to her as she continued blabbering on. “Watch where you’re going, Fatness ! Geez! Someone tell those Mexican construction workers outside that their bulldozer ball rolled away.” She was dressed as if she were a model. A racist, bitchy model with a minuscule frame and a bad dye job. She could have just said construction workers , she didn’t have to throw in the race card. And for the fat comment, I don’t even know what the hell her problem is. I’m just curvy. Not really overweight, but not thin either. I guess she figures everyone that’s not a size double nothing like her is fat. Little Miss Pink-sweater-dress-and-designer-black-boots-that-I-secretly-coveted. A matching black corset over her dress was constricted around her frail looking torso, making her look scary thin. Like skin and bones. I’d read stories of extreme models who get their bottom two ribs removed and wondered if she’d done the same.
“Or, how about next time you watch where you’re standing,” I told her nonchalantly after I had picked up my things, then headed for the teacher typing rapidly at her desk as the group of students around the model-looking girl Ooo’ed at my reply.
“Hello class, it seems as though we have a new student joining us for the rest of the school year,” Mrs. Hatcher, the teacher, introduced once everything was
“Ah, so you’ve read it before?” Mr. Luna sounded interested. He asked another question, not giving me time to answer that I’d read it two summers ago when I was going through a major classic faze. “What did he do upon finding Victor in the fields?”
“He told Victor he would leave and never return as long as he would create someone like him to love and love him in return,” I answered. “He also said that Victor, as his creator, had the obligation to do so since it was his fault that he was even made.”
“Very good.” Mr. Luna said, his tone—very enthusiastic. “I can tell you are going to do very well in this class. Well, what’s left of it anyway.”
The bell rung after Mr. Luna had gone further into detail on the story, writing some keynotes to study for the exam that was planned at the end of the week. Some students bolted for the door as if there were a fire burning a few feet away. Sarah, however, stayed behind and waited for me. “Listen, since you’re new here and all, you should eat lunch with me. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’d be super cool if you did. Especially since my best friend in the whole wide world left me and moved to Oregon three weeks ago.” She sighed, “Seriously, who moves to Oregon?” A lot of people, it’s the twenty-seventh most populated state in the United States. Given that Texas is the second, and California—the first. For now anyway.
“Oh, thanks,” I said, swinging the purse around my shoulder. “I’d love to.”
“Your fifth class is right across from my Economics class, so I’ll wait for you in the hall for lunch.” Sarah shuffled the notebook in her hands from one arm to the other, “Now I have to run, because my photojournalism class is in the other wing!”
I headed down the main hall to my next class that was a few doors down. The door was decorated with elaborate decorations of bells and a wreath and was easy to spot. I checked my schedule. Design and Sew? I questioned myself. Is that even a real class? I heard the bell ring just as I ducked into the classroom and crashed into a girl that was standing in the doorway. My things went flying to the floor.
“Idiot!” the girl stammered, whipping her head around to face me. She kicked my phone a few feet away, just as I had reached out to grab it. Her hair, a wild combination of dark brown and blonde highlights, rattled as I looked up to her as she continued blabbering on. “Watch where you’re going, Fatness ! Geez! Someone tell those Mexican construction workers outside that their bulldozer ball rolled away.” She was dressed as if she were a model. A racist, bitchy model with a minuscule frame and a bad dye job. She could have just said construction workers , she didn’t have to throw in the race card. And for the fat comment, I don’t even know what the hell her problem is. I’m just curvy. Not really overweight, but not thin either. I guess she figures everyone that’s not a size double nothing like her is fat. Little Miss Pink-sweater-dress-and-designer-black-boots-that-I-secretly-coveted. A matching black corset over her dress was constricted around her frail looking torso, making her look scary thin. Like skin and bones. I’d read stories of extreme models who get their bottom two ribs removed and wondered if she’d done the same.
“Or, how about next time you watch where you’re standing,” I told her nonchalantly after I had picked up my things, then headed for the teacher typing rapidly at her desk as the group of students around the model-looking girl Ooo’ed at my reply.
“Hello class, it seems as though we have a new student joining us for the rest of the school year,” Mrs. Hatcher, the teacher, introduced once everything was
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