Chico

Misa 4

I tossed out a casual "hey guys " to Lia's friends, and they echoed it back with the same nonchalant energy. Knowing I was meeting up with my bestie Faith and a few others later, I went upstairs to my room  to get ready. It took about an hour before I was really  satisfied.

Just as I was finishing up, the smell of takeout wafted up from downstairs, signaling the return of both mine and Lia's parents. Slipping into a sleek, tight black dress, I straightened my hair and put on some makeup, aiming for that effortless-but-polished vibe.

Going down the stairs, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. My outfit was on point, and I knew it. But as I joined the gathering below, I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on me. Still, I flashed a confident smile, ready to hit the town with Faith and the crew, knowing tonight was going to be fun.

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Four hours later I found my self back home. Most of her friends had left, leaving just a small crew still hanging around. Craving some downtime, I went upstairs to my room.

First order of business: scrub off the party makeup and hop in the shower for a quick refresh. Once I was feeling clean, I threw on my favorite PJs for maximum comfort.

Downstairs again, I snagged a water bottle from the fridge and decided to escape to my parents' office for a bit. Sitting on my dad's comfortable sofa, I took a swig of water and let out a sigh of relief. Finally, a chance to unwind and just chill after a fun night.
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As Lia drove us through the morning traffic, the sunlight streaming in felt like a warm embrace, welcoming us to another day of my boring life. We exchanged sleepy hellos, preparing us for the living hell aka School.

Navigating the packed parking lot was like a nightmare, with Lia skillfully weaving through the chaos while I held on for dear life. Stepping into school was like entering a whole new world, where gossip and drama was the main event.

Our conversation naturally drifted to the latest "Gossip Girl" episode, our voices lowering as we talk about  every scandal. But just as we were about to dive into the juiciest details, Lia's girlfriend's voice broke through, pulling Lia away to join her popular friend group.

Watching Lia disappear into the crowd, I felt a mix of envy and jealousy. She fit right in with her friends, while I stuck out like a sore thumb. And as I scanned the room, my eyes landed on a boy who seemed to be staring at me for an uncomfortably long time.

I couldn't help but feel self-conscious, wondering why he was looking at me. Did I have something on my face? Did I look silly or out of place? The questions raced through my mind as I tried to maintain my composure, hoping I didn't come across as too awkward.
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Sitting in my math class, I felt a knot of anxiety twisting in my stomach as the teacher handed back our test papers. The tension in the room was bad, and I prepared myself for what was to come. When the teacher announced that I had the highest score and urged the class to be like me, I could feel everyone's eyes on me, but it wasn't admiration I saw in their gazes, instead  it was resentment, thinly veiled behind forced smiles and backhanded compliments. "Does she even have friends?" "What's with her, always trying so hard?" "She's probably just trying to prove she belongs here."

Their words cut deep, like barbs aimed straight at my heart. I tried to brush off their taunts, to focus on the teacher's words, but their voices echoed in my mind, drowning out everything else. Why did I always have to work twice as hard to prove myself? Why did I always have to be the one to bear the weight of their scrutiny?

Being one of the few black girls in a predominantly white neighborhood and school, I knew that I had to do extra, be extra, just to fit in. But no matter how hard I tried, it never seemed to be enough. Their words, their stares, their judgment—they followed me like shadows, a constant reminder of my otherness.

As the class dragged on, the weight of their expectations pressed down on me like a suffocating blanket, and I couldn't help but wonder if I would ever truly belong. And as the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the lesson, I gathered my belongings and made my escape, the echoes of their taunts still ringing in my ears.
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As I sat in math class, trying to focus on the lesson despite the stares from my classmates, a painful memory surfaced in my mind. I overheard a whispered conversation that cut deep: "Misa? She's pretty and all, but she's black."

Those words hit me hard, reminding me of the constant struggle to fit in. Despite my strength and determination, today I felt unusually weak. I wondered why. I'm Misa—a girl that actually stands on business. But in that moment, I felt weak.

Missing  the comfort of my cousin's home in New York City, where I felt like I truly belonged, I wished to escape. There, I didn't stand out like I did here. I wasn't the only black girl, fighting to prove myself in a sea of white faces.

In New York, I felt free to be myself, to chase my dreams without fear. But as the bell rang, I pushed aside my doubts. I refused to let their words break me. With determination, I gathered my things and left the classroom, to get to my history class.
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As I reached for the door handle, my hand touch with another, and I looked up to find myself staring into the eyes of Chico.Whose gaze held mine in a moment of unexpected connection.

"Oops, sorry," Chico said, his voice soft but warm.

"No, it's okay. My fault," I replied, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks.

We stood there for a moment, our hands still touching, a silent understanding passing between us. But just as I opened my mouth to say something, Chico hesitated, his lips parting as if he wanted to speak but then closing again.

"Um, sorry again," he finally said, with a nice smile.

I smiled back, feeling a flutter in my chest at the sight of his bashful expression. "No need to apologize. It was just an accident."

As we exchanged apologies, I couldn't help but steal a quick glance at Chico's face. He was undeniably good-looking, with a smile that could light up a room and eyes that sparkled with warmth.

"Well, we should probably get in," Chico said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, we should," I replied, reluctantly letting go of the door handle.

As Chico walked in, I couldn't help but wonder about the strange flutter in my stomach. It wasn't a crush—I barely knew him—but there was something about him that intrigued me.