The entire hallway fell silent as every student froze where they stood, stopping in mid-stride, mid-sentence, and even mid-bubblegum pop. One girl's strawberry gum had exploded all over her face, but she couldn't move her hand to wipe it off. She just stood there with everyone else, watching in awe as the boy with the bright blue hair made his way down the hall.
Backpack draped over one shoulder, Michael Clifford walked through the crowd with all the confidence of a rock star, fearlessly holding the gaze of each person he passed. About halfway down the line, though, he heard something he was not anticipating—a laugh. Really, it sounded more like a cough than anything (or at least that's what Michael wanted to think), but then he heard another and another, and soon the entire hallway seemed to be echoing with the sound of laughter.
Suddenly, Michael felt like he was walking down the hall in nothing but his boxers. One girl, who was standing with three of her friends, pointed a finger at him and cried in between giggles, "You look like a smurf!"
Cheeks burning with embarrassment, Michael dropped his gaze to the floor and hurried along until he reached his locker, where he hid and waited for the laughter to subside. Once the coast was finally clear, Michael reemerged and found his friends standing around him.
Calum's eyes were so wide his eyeballs could've hopped right out of their sockets. "New look, huh?" he managed to say.
"Yeah," Michael uttered, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.
"What's wrong?" Emma asked.
Michael shrugged. "Nothing. It's just ... you know, everyone's staring."
"Well, yeah, you have blue hair," Calum replied with a chuckle. "What else did you expect?"
"I dunno. I mean, I knew they'd be staring, but I didn't think they'd be laughing too. It kinda makes me feel stupid, like maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all ..." The frown that he'd been fighting finally claimed victory over his face, and his eyes once again fell to the floor. He was wearing blue high tops today, the same shade of blue as his hair.
I really do look like a smurf, he thought, and in that moment, he wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole.
"I don't feel so good, guys," he muttered, and then he turned and to leave. "Maybe I should go home."
"Hey—" Without thinking, Emma lunged forward and grabbed his arm with both hands. It was a bold move on her part but effective nonetheless. Having a girl suddenly cling to his arm was more than enough to make Michael stop. Slowly, Emma's hands slid down his arm, stopping at his wrist. His long, calloused fingers were stained blue.
"Forgot about the gloves," he said. "Stupid, huh?"
Emma frowned. "Well, do you like it?"
"Yeah," he replied. "I love it."
"Then that's all that matters, right? Who cares what they think?"
Looking over his shoulder, Michael saw the smiling faces of his friends, and then he himself smiled. "So you don't think it looks bad?"
All three of them shook their heads. "It's very you," Luke said.
Michael laughed. "I know, right? I look awesome."
"... and he's back."
At eight fifteen, the first warning bell sounded, making the students groan and sluggishly begin to gather their materials for class. After grabbing a notebook and a pen, Michael slammed his locker shut and asked his friends, "What's your first class?"
"English," Calum answered. "No idea where it is, though."
Emma sighed. "History."
"I have math," Luke said with far more enthusiasm than the other two.
"Bummer."
He shrugged. "It's not that bad, actually. But, um, I'm gonna go put away my stuff and then head to class, so I'll see you guys at lunch." With a quick wave, Luke spun around and then walked off to find his locker.
Emma stepped back. "Yeah, I should go too. Have fun in class!"
"Is that even possible?" Calum asked, glancing at Michael with a playful smirk.
Michael shook his head. "Definitely not."
Just then, the second warning bell rang, prompting all the students to scatter like ants beneath a heavy rain. With a little spring in her step, Emma merged with the crowd and started down the hall, feeling confident and excited to start the new school year.
She entered the classroom with a group of giggling girls who looked like they'd stepped right out of a magazine. Their long, shiny hair bounced as they stomped around, and their sharp stiletto heels snapped like whips across the tile. This high-heeled and short-skirted army charged into the classroom and laid claim to the group of desks in the very center of the room. Nobody dared to stand against them. One boy foolishly tried to sneak in and steal one of the seats, but one by one the girls whipped around and delivered this fierce, penetrative glare that made him shudder and scurry away. Wearing a heavy armor of makeup, the tallest of the brigade sat down in the empty seat and effortlessly tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder.
Clutching her notebook to her chest, Emma stood at the front of the classroom, eyeing the seat beside the girl. It was an old, wobbly orange desk, large enough only for a single book, but it was right on the edge of their territory. If Emma played her cards right, she could earn a place among them. Yes, she could do it. She would do it. Taking a deep breath, Emma approached them with her head held high and seamlessly made the transition. The girls didn't even notice that she'd made the move, and she would use this to her advantage.
"So how was your summer?" Emma casually asked the girl beside her.
"Excuse me?" she said, granting Emma only the briefest of glances, but with that one look, she retrieved all the information she needed. In instant, she decided that not a single aspect of Emma's appearance made her worthy of attention, so she turned away and continued chatting with her friends.
She'd dealt a heavy blow to Emma's confidence, but she hadn't yet killed it. Emma gathered her strength for one more attack.
"I'm Emma," she said, going for a direct approach, which temporarily earned the blonde's attention. "You're Brittany, right? I really like your shoes. I wanted to get a pair for myself, but my mom wouldn't let me. She said I would twist my ankle." Emma chuckled at her own joke, but Brittany's face was like stone, fixed in this cold, vacant expression.
"Did she buy you that shirt?" she asked, making her friends snicker and snort.
"No," Emma replied, "my grandmother did."
"Oh," said Brittany, holding back a laugh. "My mistake," and then all the girls busted into a fit of giggles.
Emma sank a little in her seat.
"Hey, don't you hang around with those weird guys—you know, the ones who post all those stupid videos online? My friend sent me a link to one of them, and it was so sad. Like, they actually think people care."
"I had a class with two of them last year," added one of her friends. "That one with the lisp—I don't know his name—and then that Michael kid. They were really weird."
"Didn't he just dye his hair blue?"
"Oh my god, have you seen it?"
The more they teased, the further Emma sank into her seat. By the time they were finished, she was practically sitting under the desk. All she could do was hope the teacher would soon arrive and save her from this torture.
With a heavy heart, Emma trudged on to her second period class: biology. Her first attempt at befriending the popular girls was an embarrassing and traumatizing failure. Worse yet, someone had forgotten to put Emma's name on the class roster, which led the teacher to question if she was in the right class. Brittany had her own explanation:
"Maybe she's a ghost," she declared. "She is wearing last year's fashion."
All the students laughed, and even the teacher let out a chuckle, which he quickly covered up with a cough and said, "That's enough, Brittany. Let's move on to the syllabus."
I should've worn the skirt, Emma thought. I should've just worn the skirt.
Walking into her next class, Emma struggled to find an available seat near the front of the classroom, her preferred location, but then she noticed Luke sitting at the back table, tucked away in the corner where nobody could disturb him. He hadn't noticed her enter the room because he was too absorbed in the music that was blasting through his headphones.
Honestly, Emma was hesitant to sit next to him. They'd only just officially met that summer, back when he was known simply as "that kid who Michael and Calum hang out with." He rarely ever spoke to Emma, and when he did, it was no more than a sentence or two. He probably didn't want her sitting next to him, but after her experience in first period, she really wanted to be with a friend—or, at the very least, someone familiar.
"Hey," Emma said upon reaching his table. Her sudden appearance surprised Luke, making him sit up with a start. Quickly, he ripped the ear buds out of his ears and listened as she went on talking. "Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked with a nervous smile.
"Not at all," he replied, his lips twisting into a small but friendly smile.
"Great. Thanks." Emma breathed a sigh of relief and sat down beside him. "You know, it's nice to have a class with a friend."
His body tensed at the unfamiliar word. "Yeah, it is."
"Now, I'm probably not the best lab partner to have, but what I lack in smarts, I make up for with enthusiasm!"
Luke laughed. "That's okay. I'm pretty good at this kinda stuff, so ... yeah."
"Well, that's good to know."
An awkward silence was soon upon them, and neither of them had the words to stop it from taking over. They simply didn't know what to say. Surrendering to the inevitable, they turned around and quietly waited for the teacher to enter the classroom.
Neither of them spoke for the remainder of the class, but occasionally one would sneak a glance at the other only to look away when they got caught. This continued until the bell rang; then Emma stood up, gathered her things, and politely said, "See you at lunch" before heading to her next class.
"Bye, Emma," Luke muttered into the empty air. Their next meeting, he decided, would be different. He wouldn't close up like all those times before. Confidence, he remembered. Confidence is key.
When lunchtime finally came around, Luke entered the cafeteria with a clear mission, and he found Emma sitting all by herself at one of the window-side tables. Her untouched tray of food was sitting beside her math book, at which she kept glancing while she furiously scribbled in her notebook. Every once in a while, she would stop writing and take a swig of her milk, but she always went right back to her work. Luke thought it was because she was such a dedicated student, and while that was true, it wasn't the reason she was doing homework in the cafeteria. In truth, she just didn't want to look pathetic eating lunch by herself. Thankfully, she wouldn't have to worry about that for too much longer.
"You already have homework?" Luke said upon sitting down.
Emma set down her pencil. "Yeah, cruel, isn't it? I don't understand any of this stuff. Math isn't exactly my strong suit."
"Oh, well, if you want, I could—"
Suddenly, Michael slammed his lunch tray on the table. "They shorted me on fries again. I'm telling you, the lunch ladies hate me. Every time they rip me off, unless they're serving tuna casserole; then I get a giant mound of it."
Neither of the two knew how to respond. "I'm sorry?" Luke guessed.
When Calum sat down with a mountain of fries on his plate, Michael just about lost it. "Look at that! Look at that!" Then he climbed to his feet and declared, "I'm going back up there. I'm gonna demand more fries. They can't do this. It's not right."
"Michael, just take some of my fries," Emma said. "Really, I don't mind."
"No, this is about more than fries, Emma. It's a matter of principle, and I will have justice." Before anyone could stop him, he snatched his tray and then marched right back to the service counters.
With Michael gone, Emma turned to Calum and asked, "Are you any good at math?"
"No," he answered, his mouth full of food. Then he glanced at Luke and went on with a smirk, "Say, Luke, aren't you taking advanced math this year?"
Luke's eyes widened. "Uh, yeah."
"Then basic math should be no problem for you. Looks like he's your guy, Emma." He grinned, that saboteur, and took another huge bite of his hamburger.
"You don't have to help me if you don't want to," Emma said to Luke as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm sure I'll figure it out eventually. Don't worry about it."
"No, it's fine. I don't mind—"
Before he could finish speaking, Heidi swooped in and stole everyone's attention. With only a garden salad on her tray, she sat down on the other side of Emma and started talking about her day.
"I have the worst schedule this year, I swear. I mean, it's bad enough that I have practically no classes with you, but now I have to write like a zillion papers for English. Who does she think I am?"
Rolling her eyes, she looked to Emma for support but found none. She, along with everyone else at the table, was staring at Heidi with this puzzled expression that made Heidi uncomfortable.
"What's your deal?" Heidi asked. "Oh my god, do I have something on my face?"
"I'll say," Calum replied. "You look like Casper the Friendly Ghost."
Heidi scrunched up her face. "What?"
"Heidi," Emma said, speaking gently so as not to panic her, "your foundation, I think it's a few shades too light. And it looks really ... chalky. How much did you put on?"
"Not that much ... Does it really look that bad?"
"Umm ..."
"Oh my god, this is so embarrassing!" Heidi cried, burying her face in her hands. It all made sense now. The stares. The snickers. The whispers behind her back. "I thought they were staring 'cause I looked good!"
Emma placed a comforting hand on Heidi's trembling shoulder. "It's okay."
"No, it's not! Everybody's laughing at me now!" Already, she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, so she stood up with a jerk and tore out of the cafeteria, leaving her chair clattering in her trail.
Emma was about to run after her, but before she could get to her feet, Calum was already out of his chair and halfway across the cafeteria. He kept on running until he reached the restrooms, where he skidded to a stop and pressed his ear against the door to the girls' bathroom. Inside, Heidi was frantically trying to scrub her face clean with soap and water.
"Heidi, are you okay?" Calum asked from outside.
"Leave me alone, Calum!" she yelled with tears running down her mascara-streaked cheeks. "I don't want to hear your crap right now!"
Receiving no response, Heidi assumed that he had left, so she was most shocked when he suddenly opened the door and walked right into the girls' bathroom. For a moment, his face was full of fascination and a little bit of fear.
"So this is how the other half lives," he couldn't help but say. "You know, I expected more."
Heidi's jaw dropped. "Oh my god, get out of here!" she shrieked as she ran into the closest stall and locked herself in. Calum could hear her quiet sobs despite her best efforts to conceal them.
He leaned back against the stall door. "It's not that big of a deal," he said. "All girls look stupid when they cake on their makeup like that."
"So you're saying I look stupid?"
He cringed at his poor choice of words. "No, I'm just saying you don't need it. In fact, I think you look better without it."
She sniffed. "But no one cares what you think."
Calum hung his head in defeat. "Exactly," he muttered, and then he walked out of the bathroom, where he immediately crossed paths with the Principal Hayes. The middle-aged yet still very intimating man towered over Calum like a giant, his massive biceps bulging as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"Mr. Hood," he said in a deep, thunderous voice, "care to explain what you were doing in the girls' restroom?"
Compared to the principal, Calum's voice sounded about as powerful as a mouse's squeak. "That was the girls' restroom? Well, that explains a lot. Boy, was I confused. Thanks for clearing that up, Principal Hayes."
"Mhm. My office. Now."
"Just lead the way."
Back in the cafeteria, Michael was relishing in his victory over the kitchen staff, shoveling fry after fry into his mouth. Emma, on the other hand, had yet to even touch her food, preferring spend her lunch period working on her math assignment. Luke had thought to help her, but he ultimately chickened out and instead decided to watch Michael eat while he picked at his own food.
Unbeknownst to the three, a most unanticipated guest was about to arrive and shake up their lunch period. Emma was just finishing her last problem when she felt a hand on her head, roughly ruffling her hair.
"How's my little cousin liking her first day of school? Did you make any new friends?"
Recognizing the voice instantly, Emma pulled away and whipped around to face her dimple-faced assailant. "Ashton, what are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see how your first day was going," he replied as he plopped into the chair next to her. "Plus, I wanted to prove that I hadn't forgotten about all of you despite having moved up in the world. Even though I'm a cool freshman now and you're just a bunch of wimpy eighth graders, we can still be friends."
"So you haven't made any other friends yet, huh?" Michael teased.
"Not a single one," Ashton answered, making everyone at the table laugh. "It's a nightmare."
"So what's it like?" Emma asked. "What's high school like? And don't say it's just like junior high because we all know that's a load of crap."
Ashton grinned. "The toilets are made of solid gold and the water sparkles like diamonds. We each have our own butler who does our work for us. The classes are nothing but parties and the food is—"
Emma slapped his arm. "Seriously, Ash. I wanna know what it's like."
"Well, I dunno. It's really not that much different than junior high. You take the same lame classes, only they're much harder and more annoying. The kids are ... Well, the girls are much different. They're older, more confident, and more ... developed. They smell really good and dress nice, and they walk around with their long legs, flipping their hair and smiling at you."
"Sounds amazing," Michael interrupted, struggling to lift his jaw off the table.
"Yeah, it does," Emma had to admit. "I wish I could see it myself."
"Well, you will," Ashton said with a smile. "Just have to wait another year. It'll go by fast."
"Yeah," she replied, but not fast enough.