GLOW

CHAPTER 2

The next day, I walk into theater class and sit down on the floor next to a girl with black hair cut in a bob and quite a few piercings. I'm instantly intimidated, but I clear my throat and offer a hand. "Hey. I'm Esmerelda. What's your name?"

She turns to me with a huge grin and enthusiastically shakes - or, really, crushes - my hand. "Hey! I'm Seraphina. It's really nice to meet you."

I nod. "That's a bit of a mouthful, isn't it?"

"Oh, absolutely. You can call me Sera, or Fin, if you want. Do you have any nicknames?"

"Oh, yeah. Call me Esme, Esma or Relda. Relda's my favorite, but only because really no one uses it," I say with a smile.

She grins back and we turn back to the front of the room as our teacher, a spindly woman in her mid-sixties with a massive hairdo and wearing around a half dozen scarves, rushes into the room. "Hello, class!"

A few people mumble "Hello" in return. She doesn't seem to notice and claps her hands twice, just about scaring my pants off with the gunshot-like sound. "Alright, class. Let's all go around this circle and tell your name, favorite food and one thing you did this summer." She claps again, this time only making me flinch. "I'll start. I'm Miss Levendofsky, my favorite food has to be dark chocolate, and this summer, I went water-skiing. Seraphina, dear, you next."

Sera sits up straighter and says, "I'm Seraphina Cho, my favorite food is spaghetti, and I went to China this summer to visit family."

I say, "I'm Esmerelda Ward, my favorite food's mac and cheese, and I moved up here this summer," and collapse back into a slouch, barely registering the boy next to me telling everyone his name. I'm still stuck on something Sera said. China? Impressive, I have to say. I steal a glance at Sera. I didn't notice that her eyes are shaped ever so slightly like almonds, or slanted ever so gently upwards. She catches me staring and gave me another beaming smile. I grin back and drop my gaze, embarrassed. My inner voice is telling me, for heaven's sake, stop staring at people, Esmerelda!

How am I supposed to know what they look like, then?

I catch myself before I have a full-on debate with the voice in my head and turn my attention back to the class, where a gangly, blond-haired boy with stubble is mumbling, "I'm Jake Loran, I like plums, and this summer, I, uh, slept."

I rush to my next class. As the bell rings, I slide into the only empty seat left, next to a tall and elegant girl. She has darker skin, straight brown hair, and big brown eyes. From what I can tell, she's probably indigenous - not that I'm all that good at guessing ethnicities. Something about her slanted facial features and shrewd gaze makes me half expect her to start petting her pet raccoon and singing about the colors of the wind.

Ordinarily, I wouldn't try to interact with her for fear of saying or doing the wrong thing, but I can feel the same sort of tug, like a fish on a line, towards her that I did towards Oakland. The only difference is that while his glow seems to stem from a humble, quiet pride, hers comes from what can be described as no less than self-centered arrogance. Nevertheless, I decide to give her a chance and smile at her, which she returns only with a cold stare.

"Good morning, everyone!" Our teacher comes into the classroom - in a wheelchair, I notice. The reason is obvious a few seconds later, when I flick my eyes down to her legs, which I can see past the short skirt have both been amputated. She continues in an exaggerated British accent. "Welcome to your first English class. My name is Ms. Caldwell. Now I want you to take note of who you're seated by, because these will be your assigned seats for the rest of the semester. Go on and introduce yourselves, if you feel so inclined."

There's a general shuffling sound as everyone turns to look at who they're seated by, but I don't move. The Native American girl, however, turns to me and says, "I'm Adsila, but you can call me Dee, since you don't look like the kind of person to pronounce it right. I know your name. You're the new kid."

I shrug. "That's me." I refrain from telling her than I can, in fact, pronounce Adsila. I'd rather not start a fight on my second day here.

She rolls her eyes and turns back to the front of the room. "I can't believe I got sat next to you." The loathing in her voice is unmistakable.

I swallow and focus back on our teacher. Oh, this is going to be so much fun.