Introverted

The assignment

Kate walked into school, backpack slung over her shoulder, lunch bag in her hand. The second she walks into the lunchroom, she's on the prowl for an isolated table. She locates one and takes a seat. Have you ever felt like no matter how much you try to do things differently, you feel caught in a constant loop? Like as much as you try, you can't help feeling that you're doing the same thing over and over and there's no escape. That's how Kate feels everyday walking into the same hectic, loud cafeteria, prepared to spend her day doing the same meaningless activities with the same shallow people. Kate rests her head on the cold cafeteria table, hoping to catch a few moments of relief from her surroundings. She drowns out the loud murmurs swarming her. Suddenly, she hears a familiar sound ringing in her ears. She'd never heard a more relieving yet  ironically stressful sound. The bell. "Smile!" It's comments like these she dreads everyday. Kate avoids turning around to reveal who the demeaning comment that was clearly directed towards her came from. The rain is tapping the window in a repetitive pattern against the window in English. It's a rainy day, dismal and dark. Kate enjoyed days like these, finding them relaxing. Often people find sunny days excuses to make cliche comments such as "oh, what a beautiful day it is! The sunshine feels so good!" It's rainy days that Kate seems to feel more relatable, closest to those who appear slightly less peppy than usual. The teacher lectures on and on for what seems an eternity on poetry. Poetry is just a combination of words that sound good together. Why is it such a big deal? Kate pondered. She had never been fond of any particular type of literature, however poetry seemed the most cliche. "I hope you all enjoy this assignment, I know my former classes have. Be ready to present next Tuesday." Oh no. Kate missed the assignment. I know what this means, she thought. She has to ask someone what was due next Tuesday. Although she hates school, grades have always been important to her. She consistently reminded herself; if you don't get good grades, you'll end up with a dead end future, a life of serving people who made an effort in their ninth grade English class. As The bell rung and Kate gathered her things, she knew she had to ask someone what the assignment was. She spotted a girl leaving alone and figured this was her chance. "Hey, could you tell me what the assignment is? The one due next Tuesday?" Kate asked. "Hi! You must be new here. What's your name?" The girl asked. This is what Kate had been dreading would happen, and the last thing she wanted to do was engage in conversation with this girl. "I'm Kate. I suppose you could say I'm new, I've been here since September. So, about the assignment, could you tell me what it is?" She hoped this would put the point across that all she wished to discuss was the darn assignment. "She just said it, silly. You have to write a poem on the topic of your choice and present it next Tuesday. And sorry I didn't recognize you. I hope you enjoy it here!" With that, she walked away before I could utter a thanks. Great, she thought. I can't write poetry! And present my personal thoughts and lack of talent to the class? No thanks. Honestly, I'd rather fail. With that, she left, part of her hoping a miracle would occur and she'd never have to return again.