Separate But Not Equal

Chapter III

My heart drops further down in my chest, while my courage is lessened ever so slightly.

With the exception of Nieve and a few other people that I know from church, I've never actually had a real friend.

I didn't meet Nieve until the age of twelve.

Twelve years, with no friends. For twelve years, no-one liked me, or wanted to even communicate with me, steering clear and keeping distance as though I was some kind of disease.

It got worse when my Mama died. I was in a crippling state of depression, weak and vulnerable, but people at school just saw it as another reason to make fun of me. I was only ten, but it was another thing to torture me about, another thing that 'I deserved'.

Another thing that was somehow caused by my race according to my classmates. 

Lauren, Laura, Leah and Lottie, strut in through the light, wooden door, flipping their straight, brown hair back, noses high in the air, and pulling their skirts up, considerably shorter than accepted.

Too short according to the dress code, but obviously my opinion isn't shared with the the different whistling boys, in the classroom, who shamelessly admire the girls... legs.

They stop in front of me, arms crossed, tapping their feet on the floor, looking down at me, smirking at me, examining me like a piece of dirt.

The amount of which this society tries to force the idea that I am inferior to these type of people, will always befuddle me.

My grade point average is the highest in the class, however that doesn't seem to matter.

I manage to have at least some self-respect, and dignity, not allowing myself to be lowered to the standards of modern society.

I possess potentially a lot of common sense. I don't go around acting as if I'm better, as if I deserve more from people, because of something like race.

That's probably why, they all seem taken back, when I don't acknowledge them for a while, then give them a dismissive, nonchalant glance.

"What?"

For no reason that I can think of, they all break into high-pitched, ear-piercing laughs, so loud it would seem that they have just heard a joke that warranted that response, then their laughter halts abruptly, they raise their heads and rush off.
My eyes follow them, while I silently question their mental health.

I start doing my school work, trying to shake off all the stares burning through my back, pretending I can't fool them.

Maybe nothing will happen today.

Maybe, just maybe. I'll be left alone for one day.

The idea of at least one day, without the pain and torture, managed to obtain my attention But then...

Time seems to slow down, when someone carelessly pushes the door open, and all heads, including mine, turn towards the source of the noise.

Broad shoulders, the natural odour of forest plants, the outdoors and fruits filling my nose. Chocolate-coloured hair bouncing in front of swirling, waves of blue eyes.

It's Him.
Him?

Lauren, Laura and Leah stare at him, longingly, love in their eyes, batting their eyes, puckering their lips, and twirling waves of dark hair around their fingers.

Not Lottie.

Lottie is looking at me, with a solemn expression. Her face filled with Empathy. Quickly dropping it the minute I spot her.

Not empathy, sympathy.

I instantly turn my head, Looking as far away from Mr. Perfect as possible. Trying to ignore, his perfect face, perfect hair and perfect body, and focus on his arrogant personality.

Which seems to be going well, until everyone twists around to face me, in discombobulation.

I don't understand why, Until I hear someone pull the chair up next to me, and shove down all of their body weight groaning.

My heart pounding loudly against my chest, a strange tickling in my stomach, and my head racing.

I slowly lift my face, looking up, right into the intensely, beautiful, ocean-blue eyes of Christopher Evans.