Not Your Average Nerd

Chapter Four

“Everyone has heard of Dracula, right?” The teacher, Mrs. Schoen, asked as she held her hands in front of her mouth and pointed her two index fingers down like they were long fangs. It was so stupid I had to look away. “Did you know that the castle Dracula was said to live in really does exist?” She then continued to make a fool of herself by flapping her arms like a bat. “The castle is called BranCastle and is located in a tiny village by the name of Bran.” I hated hearing that woman butcher the name “Bran”. She pronounced it as if she were talking about breakfast flakes. I wanted to speak up and correct her (as well as reach up and slap her) but I had to resist. No spotlight, I kept thinking. Sixth grade was the transition period for me; I was beginning to think in English more than I was thinking in Romanian.

“Miss Stoica,” Mrs. Schoen, the tall chubby woman with her hair pulled back into a tight bun, announced with too much enthusiasm as she walked over to my desk. Her hand rested near my pencil as she stared down. Of course I didn’t look up, even though I knew she was waiting for me to. I could already feel the eyes of every student in the class, why would I do that to myself? It was obvious that she wanted me to share about Romania. I kept looking down at my pencil, peeling the My Little Pony cover off and watching it curl until she cleared her throat.

“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked her, letting my pencil go.

Her smile reached from ear to ear. “Class, if you were unaware, Miss Ileana Stoica is actually from Romania. Perhaps we could learn a little something if she feels like sharing?” Mrs. Schoen was back at the front of the classroom in front of the pull down map, expecting me to join her. I shook my head.

“No thank you, Miss Stoica is feeling quiet today.” I replied back, which seemed to get a few giggles in response. Mrs. Schoen wasn’t amused.

“Actually, Ileana, that wasn’t much of a question. That was an introduction.”

Even though I really didn’t want to, I stood up at my desk (refusing to join that demon woman at the front) and told everyone everything I knew. I even gave information about Bran and made sure Mrs. Schoen knew I was calling her out as I pronounced it correctly with even a little more emphasis roll on the R. It actually did feel pretty good to share about Romania because I was given a chance to tell about a place I missed and loved. Everyone even gasped a little when I told them I grew up in Bran by Brașov and had been inside of Bran castle a couple of times.

“Wait, so you grew up in Dracula’s hometown?” Royce asked, no, blurted out as I was in the middle of explaining the deal with Brașov and how it’s made up of different surronding villages. I nodded my head. Something in my gut told me this was going to end bad.

“So, does that make you some sort of vampire or something?” Everyone began giggling, even Mrs. Schoen, who thought it was a harmless little question. Little did that stupid, stupid woman know that Royce Matthews had been notorious for years for making my life hell with his comments, names, and jokes. Royce crossed his arms and stared at me, giving me his trouble-maker grin.

“N-no,” I said in a meek tone. Let’s face it. I was afraid of that boy.

“I think you’re lying. I mean it would make sense for you TO be a vampire. You’re quiet, you look funny, you’re too skinny, and you still have an accent. Plus, you’re really pale. I bet that’s why you stay inside during recess. You don’t want to burn to death!” Everyone in the classroom roared with laughter. Well, almost everyone. Mrs. Schoen pulled him out of the classroom and called for the vice principal to take him. I didn’t say anything for the remainder of the class or day, really. It hurt. No, I wasn’t a vampire. No, I didn’t burn into ashes in the sun. The only reason I didn’t go out during recess was because I had no one to play with. What was I supposed to do, stand there alone in the gravel while everyone else ran around in pairs and groups playing and avoiding me?