Outcast, chapter 1

"Get out of our hall, retard!" I heard some guy yell after me.
"What the hell is she doing here, anyway?" One of their groupies whined.
"I don't know, but she's starting to piss me off with the way she walks around like she fucking owns the place!" The guy said.

I couldn't hear the rest of their conversation, but I bet it was about the same subject: Me. Also probably their shock that I would actually dare to walk down the halls that they 'claimed.' I thought it was stupid to not be allowed to walk down a certain hall just because it happened to be filled with all the cool kids. When I first came here, some people warned me which halls not to go down, because the people of the higher social class don't want to see little delinquents like us. My determination to break that barrier between the cliques that made me look like a snob or just stupidly disobedient.

I always wanted to make my own statement at school. Like when everyone was all about the preppy or street look that is mostly seen on MTV, I started to wear mostly black. It actually made me feel good knowing that I wasn't conforming to their standards of looks. The look stuck though, because instead of making me look unique and possibly more respected like how I thought it would, it made me even more of an outcast than I already was.

It was bad enough that I was a new girl here and didn't fall in too easily with any of the cliques, but then I had to try and be an 'individual' If that was considered a crime now. At first I was confused as to what I wanted to be: accepted and drone-like, or rejected and unique. It's not that I didn't totally want to shy away from any and all ideas of a group of friends, because let's face it, everyone needs a friend at some point. I just didn't want to be filed under the company I keep. That's why I tried to do different activities all at once.

I joined the soccer team, and I was more of a practice dummy and a laughing stock than an actual member of the team. 'Damn asthma', I thought bitterly. It wasn't my fault. I even tried the poetry and drama club, but that was a train wreck from the beginning. I thought that the meetings were supposed to be times for open sharing and constructive criticism, because we could all use some advice, right? Wrong. They were so touchy and unwilling to change. They wanted to protect their 'babies' and 'masterpieces.' Once again, I was outcast from the only groups I thought would accept me in the slightest.

So, now, I belonged with no one. Sure, I talked to a couple of people, and we tolerated each other, but I don't have a single person in this school who I confide my deepest, darkest secrets to. It felt frustrating at times, when it seemed as though the only thing I could talk to was my pillow at night. I talked to it, I laughed with it, and I cried with it, but it couldn't ease my pain. Most nights I would lay in bed and just wish. Wish for someone to hold me and tell me it's going to be alright. Even if it's a lie; just for a little while.

I also wished for that special connection with my mom. I used to be able to talk to her about anything when I was little, but that was when I was eight. Nine years later, I feel like she doesn't have the time for me anymore. I tried talking to her once, about how I was feeling and how I was uncomfortable with her new relationship. She started putting words in my mouth and making accusations that weren't true. I think she's just waiting a few more months until I turn 18 so she can have a valid excuse to not care what happens to me. My dad was no help, either. Everything I said to him sounded like a complaint, and he had no patience for complaints. Either that or he used them as fuel for his long rant about how my mom was still being a bitch after nine years. He constantly claimed her life's purpose was to destroy his wonderful one that he had built with his new wife. No one was willing to listen, only judge and yell. So, now, here I sit in a corner table of the cafeteria, completely alone.

It was probably this mentality that is bringing me down in the first place. I still rebel against the traditional social codes, but all hope for widespread acceptance is pretty much crushed by now. I may walk the Forbidden Halls, but I do so now with downcast eyes and a heavy heart. I constantly argue with myself that I might as well not walk the halls at all if doing so does nothing to make me feel better. Well, it's not like they notice anyway. The 'owners' of the hall no longer look at me, they only look at my actions. I could be walking down the hall crying, but they wouldn't notice a thing, aside from the fact that I was walking through their hall at the time.

Something temporarily distracts me from my self-pity when I see a short scuffle at one of the doors to the cafeteria. Seeing as it was the door closest to my seat, I couldn't help but look. Once I saw who it was though, I rolled my eyes and resumed assaulting my lunch with my fork. The SC boys had started a fight wiith one of the jocks again, and there weren't that many guesses in my head as to why.

Just my luck, once the fighting stopped and the boys peeled themselves off one another, they locked my gaze and started walking my way. Great. I thought with a sigh. It's not that I didn't like them, they were cool guys. It's just that they annoyed me sometimes when they were all together and hyper.

"Hey, C-Na!" the smallest and loudest one, Frank, shouted. He startled some kids a couple tables away, but then they saw who made the noise and resumed their business.
"Why are you sittin way over there?" He asked. He sounded like an annoying little kid when he talked like that.

I finally glared at him from behind my curtain of long, dark-brown hair.

"You already know why, Frank." I said, emphasizing the last word. He hated being called Frank. A friend of theirs, Larry, I think his name was, gave him the nickname Tre Cool, and he immediately insisted that everyone call him that. I thought it was a little immature, so I was the only one, besides the teachers, that still called him Frank. But I was also the only one that they ever listened to.

Frank backed off. "Sorry I asked." The other two boys sat down at my table while Billie, the main one, or the 'Ringmaster' as I liked to call him started talking to me. "Bad day, C?"

I shrugged and widened my eyes a bit (my other way of rolling my eyes) and simply said, "Same shit different day, huh?" The boys all nodded in agreement and Billie replied with, "True, true."

"So what was that all about?" I asked, pointing with my eyes towards the direction of the cafeteria entrance. Billie simply waved his hand as if the subject were insignificant.
"Oh, that? Just some stupid-ass jock-straps making fun of us again."

I looked at all three of them in mild disbelief. "And you indulged their taunts by beating them up?" They all shrugged before Frank grabbed his head in pain.

"Smaller words please, C-Na! I just got out of English, for God's sake!" I just rolled my eyes and looked down, while tucking some hair behind my ear..

A small silence passed before Frank looked at my plate. "So, what's our poison today?" I stabbed the meat with my fork and said, "The Da Vinci." Both Frank and Billie laughed, but the quieter one, Mike, looked puzzled.
"What the hell's 'the Da Vinci'? And what's he got to do with mystery meat?"Frank asked. This just earned more laughs from Billie and Frank.

I decided to be the one to eleborate. "Oh, that last Friday you were absent from school, they served this shit," I indicated the salami with my fork. "and these two were wondering why I didn't want to eat it. I told them because I don't like looking at food that can look back at me. You know how all those Leonardo Da Vinci paintings have those weird-ass eyes that seem to follow you everywhere?"

Mike nodded and a look of comprehension dawned on his face. "Oh, ok, I get it now." Billie and Frank busted out laughing, and this time Mike joined in. We were all talking for a while until I looked at my watch.

"Hey kids, I have to go now. I don't want to be late for class." I said as I swung my bag over my shoulder.

Billie asked, "What class did you have next again?"

"Honors English IV." I replied. All three of them made looks of pain on their faces. I rolled my eyes and started walking off.

"Good luck." the three of them called after me as I dumped my tray out and walked out of the cafeteria. Thanks, I thought. You don't know how much I'll need it.