Tons of hypothetical scenarios ran through my mind on the way to Westbrook High. A run in with the queen bee, my blue, plaid skirt ripping, falling down the stairs leading to the doors. Embarassing scenes flooded my head as my father rambled on and on about being myself and making new friends.
I took a deep breath. I'll be fine; it is just High School after all.
"What are you thinking about?" my father finally realized I wasn't listening. He looked at me quickly, trying to read my expression, before turning his attention back to the road before us. I wasn't going to tell him how nervous and apprehensive I felt about this. I moved from California, the sunny, nature-filled state to New Jersey. I'm definitely not used to the cold weather, since it's always at least a little warm in California. I've never seen so many pale people before.
"Just thinking about California," I lied. Saying that did change what I was thinking about though. I remembered the last event that occurred before I left: Thomas Smith appearing at my doorstep five minutes before we were leaving, to tell me he loved me, but he was breaking up with me.
"I just, I can't handle long-distance relationships. Not after Shelly," he had said.
Shelly was his ex-girlfriend. They dated through freshmen year and a little bit of Summer. They broke up because THomas had gone to Paris for two weeks, and Shelly cheated on him with Eric Wilson, who was his best friend at the time.
I let out a sigh, remembering the way my heart felt when he dumped me. It was as if somebody had ripped it out of my chest and stomped on it repeatedly. It ended with vultures coming and picking at the shreds.
I miss Thomas. I miss Lucy, my best friend, and the twins Tracy and Tyler. I miss my teachers, I miss my room, I miss everything.
I reached into my bag and pulled out a bag of sour patch kids, ripping it open and stuffing pieces into my mouth. I absolutely love sour patch kids, and I always ate them when I was nervous. They have that unique taste that I love, sour and sweet at the same time. My friends always called me a sour patch kid, since I was always eating them. Plus, "I was often in a sour mood, and often a sweet mood," so that contributes to the nick name as well.
"Oh Sarahhh! Where's your head at?'' my father inturrupted my thoughts. I ooked up, realizing we had arrived. Westbrook High was a large school, bigger than the private academy I had attended in California. Girls wearing white cotton shirts and plaid skirts the color of the sky walked around with bags slung across their shoulders. Guys wore tan trousers with a white button-down shirt, and a few guys had ties on. Everyone wore a simple blue jacket over their shirts.
There were many couples holding hands and making kissy faces at eachother. It was my first Valentine's day alone since freshmen year. Nobody was giving me flowers or chocolates. Nobody was telling me how much they loved me--
"I love you sweetheart. Have a great day!" my father said.
Exept my dad. I waved good-bye to him as he drove away. I walked slowly to the entrance, careful not to fall on the steps. I popped a red sour patch kid into my mouth and opened the door, then lightly pushing it for the next person.
I stopped at the side of the hallway, taking in my surroundings while chewing my candy. I was about to get another one, when the bag was suddenly snatched from my hand.
"Hey!" I exclaimed as a deliciously tan boy smirked, waving the bag in front of my face. He had dark, brown hair with matching chocolate brown eyes. He had a chisled chin and soft pink lips that were curved into a mischevious smile.
"Is this yours?' he asked. Damn, even his voice is sexy.
"Yes. And I'd really appreciate it if you gave it back." I said, corssing my arms. He grinned and stuck out his tongue.
"Not happening," he popped one into his mouth, causing me to gasp. Nobody eats my sour patch kids and gets away with it.
I leapt at him, but he dodged quickly, and began running away. Naturally, I chased after him, but he was simply too fast. I raced past students in the hallways and teachers wearing disapproving looks. Suddenly, he stopped and moved to the side. Not being able to control myself, I lurched forward and hit somebody with a large thump. I lie sprawled all over the ground next to another body. Groaning, I sat up and looked beside me.
Just my luck: it's Professor Bates, principal of Westbrook High.
---
I wonder that if I jumped out the window of Professor Bates's office, I'd make it alive. I mean, it's only about twenty-five feet off the ground. I wish I was a cat, then I'd make it unscathed.
The reason I'm contemplating this is because the lady is practically the definiton of boring. She's been going on and on about how I'm new here and how generous the school was to accept me. It's a public school. It's not that hard to get in.
"Since it's your first day, I'll just leave you with a warning, but next time, there ill be consequences!" Bates finished her lecture with a nod. I wonder how people like her find love when I can't. Will she be spending her valentine's day alone too?
The professor let me leave and I had to sprint to make it to class on time. Mrs. Fitz was just about to close the door as I scrambled into the classroom.
"You must be Sarah Parks," she said, adjusting her eyeglasses to look at me more carefully. I nodded nervously, moving a strand of hair from my face. I could hear students whispering from around the class room, some nice things but a lot of rude things.
"Pull your skirt down, whore," I heard. I looked up and realized the voice belonged to my sour patch kid thief. I looked down at my skirt, which had gone up a little when I was running down the hall ways. I pulled it down in embarassment.
"Now Michael, that kind of language is not appropriate! That's a detention for you, sir!" the teacher exclaimed firmly. Michael, a.k.a spk thief scoffed.
"I can't believe the stupid bitch got me a detention," he said, loud enough for me to hear. I hate this. I hate it here. I want to go back to California, where the kids were nice and didn't bully me for stupid reasons. I sat down in the back of the class and put my head down, praying that the day would get better.
It didn't.
By sixth period, everybody knew me as the "new ho". People spat the two words at me as I walked through the hallways. Some stuck their tongues out, some tried to trip me. I'm never been bullied before, and I honestly can't take this.
Suck it up, Sarah. C'mon, be brave!
I was relieved when ninth period finally came and school was over. I hurried to my locker which was at the left wing of the school. As luck would have it, my locker was surrounded by those of football players and cheerleaders.
"Hey there, ho. How's it hoing?" a buff jock asked me with a laugh.
"Darling, mind pulling your skirt up for me again?" another asked. I heard laughter around me. I scanned the crowd, noticing how it was just the popular kids. Michael was there too, laughing his stupid little ass off.
"Hey slut," a platinum blonde cheerleader said, pushing me up against a locker. I wish Thomas was here. He'd stand up for me and protect me.
"Wanna know what happened to the last ho who showed up," she asked.
"Uh, well you're standing right here so I guess she got a boob job and cosmetic surgery that the doctors screwed up on" I retorted.
Crap Sarah, why can't you hold your tongue?
The cheerleader litereally growled and brough her knee up into my stomach.
"Ya think you're funny, now don't ya?" she asked as I groaned inpain. Before I react I felt a literal slap in my face, causing my whole head to sting. Suddenly I was on the ground as she kicked me repeatedly.
I don't want this. I want to lay in my bed and cry, and watch "The Notebook" and cry and eat food and cry.
"Hey! Get off her!" a voice sudden;y cried as th blonde was pushed off me. Everybody backed away slowly, but I couldn't see who it was.
"are you okay?" a face appeared beside me. I gasped in surprise as I recognized it to be Michael. He wrapped his arms around me and picked me up bridal style, causing me to wince in pain.
"Shh, it's okay. I'm here for you."
He brought me to the girls' bathroom since the nurse had left school already. He sat me on the cabinet beside the sink and wrapped wet paper towels around my bruises. He wiped the blood away slowly, but the bleeding on my stomach didn't want to stop. He held a paper towel onto the cut to try to stop it, but it was pretty serious. Finally, he took his shirt off and wrapped it around my stomach.
I didn't want to hold it in anymore. I cried. I cried because I hated it here. I cried because I missed Thomas and we were through. I cried because I feel so alone and unwanted right now.
"I'm so sorry."
I looked up at Michael, and realized he was crying too.
"If I hadn't started witht he teasing and everything, none of this would've happened!"
That was the first thing to make me smile today.
"It's not your fault," I sniffled out and he gave me a small smile.
"It's just.. I saw you and I thought you were really pretty. I just, I dind't know how to show that."
"You think I'm pretty?" I asked with wide eyes.
"I think you're beautiful."
I didn't answer. I honestly didn't know what to say. We sat there in silence as he pressed his shirt against my skin. It wasn't an awkward silence, it was comfortable. Suddenly, Michael sprang up from the cabinet and grinned.
"Hey Sarah," he said.
"What?''
He smiled as wide as the grinch and pulled something out of his jeans' pocket.
"Happy Valentine's Day. Here's your Sour Patch Kids."