When You're In Love with a girl

Chapter 5, Gold-Painted Shoes

GOLD PAINTED SHOES

School has been good so far, much to my surprise. It's been a blur of faces. Preppy kids who think I could join their friends circle (after all, I am a Gemney). Wait till they find out that I'm a socially awkward introvert who happens to have a Gemney as her mother. The classes have been mostly the same, just welcoming me to the classes and I sit somewhere. Some kids try to engage me in talk but I try to respond, say something witty, something interesting but my words fail me and other kids, unwilling to wait, drop the conversation. I don't blame them for not wanting to be my friend.

As I walk into English class, my first class after the lunch period, I am greeted by a kindly-looking woman. She wears her long brown hair in loose curls, and her soft brown eyes radiate a sense of warmth. Her features are well-proportioned and her nose has a nice form.

"Hello, my name is Mrs. Pearce," she says. Her voice rings like tiny bells, a sound of joy. "What is your name?"

"My name is Alie Gemney," I say, smiling. I almost never smile. Something about the lady makes me smile.

Then, something drops in her face. Maybe it's a glimmer that is lost in her eyes. Maybe it's a slight frown playing on her lips. "Come to my desk," she says, and the tinkle of bells is gone. Instead, her voice is harsh and authoritative.

I follow her. I don't know what to expect. What could I have done to get in trouble with someone I had only just met? The other students glanced at me, but they said nothing.

"I read from your old school report that English class presented some difficulties for you," she says in a sympathetic tone.

At her word I want to rage and scream. I had difficulties? Are you kidding me, lady?! I was the smartest student in that class. Perhaps I never raised my hand or participated in the debates or absolutely refused to share my essays in oral reports, but that did not mean much. I know I was the most well-learned of them all.

"So, I just want to tell you that I'll always give you two extra days on assignments and I'll help you out in book discussions."

Time to speak up for yourself, Alie, I scold myself. "I don't think I—," I begin to say, but she cuts me off.

"No, it's okay, I understand," she says soothingly and places her hand on my shoulder. Her nails are manicured, painted an ugly bright red. I want to shake her hand off my shoulder and run out of the school and never come back.

I take a deep breath.

"That is all, Alie," she says, but she says my name wrong, pronouncing it like "ally" instead of "uh-lee." "You can sit next to Eduard right there." She points to an empty desk to the left of a boy with blonde hair, probably Eduard.

I knit my brows, walk to the desk, and sit down.

Eduard is talking to his friends, rather loudly. "Hey Tom," he says to the boy sitting in front of him. "What are you wearing? Beat-up, no-name, ten dollar shoes on sale from Walmart?" He laughs like a hyena.

I feel a surge of sympathy for the boy, Tom. I don't know him, but being bullied sucks so much. Tom catches my eye, but I look away quickly. I don't want to be bullied too.

"Check out my kicks," says Eduard to the kid sitting right to him. "Limited edition Nike Air Max 270, painted 24-karat gold."

The guy next to him smiles but looks a bit strained. "Cool. Mine aren't limited edition," he says in a slightly disappointed voice. He looks down at his own, which look identical to Eduard's, just not painted gold.

"I know," says Eduard. It pains me to see how stuck-up these rich kids are. "My parents only buy me the very best."

I roll my eyes. Shoes that are painted gold are no different, only they are heavier. The kids at this school are preppy, again.

I'm glad I'm not Tom. No one has cared that I am a Gemney yet, so that is good. This school is so filled with the kids of New York celebrities and wealthy that I bet that Eduard is probably the son of some super rich television star or something.

I do wonder how kids like Tom got here. Maybe he's the son of a minor celebrity, like me from my mother. Tom has medium brown hair, cut in a simple and laid back style, and light skin. He looks Caucasian.

I think I know how not to get bullied here. Just stick in, wear the right clothes. Hard to do when it all costs hundreds of bucks, though. I'll try my best. I think my mother has money to spare. 

Author's Note: 

Hello readers! What are your thoughts on the new characters?

Mrs. Pearce?

Eduard?

Tom?

Don't forget to vote! I welcome comments, questions, and feedback in the comments section! I respond to all comments :) I don't bite.

-Tara