The Importance

How to Live?

Humiliation can cause you to do a lot of things. I know that it wasn't my fault that my parents got kidnapped. Some may think that I did it, and I didn't because I have an alibi; I was at school as lonely as ever. I shouldn't pity myself so much, but I can't help it when it seems as if the universe is against me every ticking second of the day.

I only want to know why everyone is staying away from me. Honestly, do people think they will get kidnapped too if they converse with me? They don't think they will get kidnapped by looking at me, that is for sure. 

The next day at school, teens side-eye me with deep skepticism. I feel like I have done something wrong. My eyes are compelled to the gray-white ground of the yellow-tinted white school building. It is almost a skin color but slightly more of a mustard color. The ceiling has brown cracks in spots, and sometimes water finds its way down to the interior from the rough roof.

"Are you okay, Alexia?" Alex asks, stopping when I halt in my tracks.

"Why is everyone avoiding me?" I ask for what seems like the millionth time today.

"I don't know. I don't think I'm kept in the 'loop,'" Alex says, granting some of the people with nasty looks towards me swift smiles as he chuckles. 

It's like these emotionally dramatic teenagers have no mercy. They are heartlessly shaming me. They'll get over it. Right? Whatever it is that they are even in a fuss about. Beats me, they could think that I am an alien for all I know because apparently, only a few people are in the gossip circle these days.

As I stroll with Alex to the lunch room, a delicious smell of spaghetti and bread fills my nostrils. Too bad I already have my packed lunch partially full of apple slices, a granola bar, and cheese courtesy of my skilled packing techniques. I normally consume little to nothing for lunch and breakfast because dinner is my main meal of the day. 

"Mmmm," he mumbles, letting his nose carry him to the already full lunch line where his friends allow him a spot in front of them and the rest of the lunch line. 

I find a vacant table and sit in the corner where kids don't usually sit. Middle-school and high-school lunches are normally separate, so there is plentiful space in our small lunch room. The large kitchen takes up a small portion of the area, leaving the remainder for us. There are glowing vending machines on the wall with wood-colored doors leading into the hallway standing vacant beside them.

I heard that a group of seniors got to paint anything they wanted (as long as it was appropriate) on the lunchroom walls, and they certainly did a good job. Food paintings, dolphins, horses, a few flowers, humans, various objects, books, and many more drawings coat the four walls surrounding our dining area. I believe that the paintings add more excitement to our lunchtime. 

As I open my lunch box, Alex plops down next to me, the rest of his cult following him. I am abruptly surrounded. My mind spins as their voices instantly bounce around my head. It becomes harder and harder to focus on my thoughts as they all talk. I close my eyes and skim the back of my teeth with my tongue. 

I try to give Alex a pleading look, but he is too preoccupied talking. His friends are amiable, and only a few glare warily at me with their assorted eyes. Some of their hair is dyed unnatural colors, some not. All of their outfits are different and more file in as they spot the group. I am not very surprised when I become overwhelmed. As soon as I have finished, I rush out to get my things for the next class.

I was born with these traits. It is almost problematic.

I soon see Alex followed by a hoard as he makes his way to his red locker.

He quickly discovers me in the band room, hunched up against the heater with all the lights turned off. I am most likely not supposed to be in here, but that is what happens when you leave the door unlocked.