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 Have you ever had that feeling of sudden discomfort? The feeling of you just knowing somebody is watching you. Whether that be from a far. Or right behind you, nearly breathing on your neck. I do, that is exactly how I felt when he walked through the doors. It's not like I haven't seen him before. Or I didn't know his name. I have talked to him before! Yet, when he walked into the room this morning. His hair all disheveled, brown eyes glued to the marble floor like always; the feeling of spiders crawling up and down my neck came to me.

Quickly ignoring the feeling and sudden gaze I had earned from him, I turned to my friend Sherrie who was fixing her makeup as always. Although I didn't see why she needed to, it looked perfect. But, that was Sherrie. The silly girl who couldn't help but look nice. The girl who had the natural ability to just, toss her hair and have ever boy fawn over her. It was a talent that I wish I harvested.

But I was nothing special. At least compared to her, I wasn't. Sherrie had long, brown hair, that curled ever so perfectly at the ends. She had brown eyes that could go from soft and loving, to destruction and hatred in a minute flat. Sherrie's father owned a dozen companies scattered across the country, so it was no surprise that she came to school everyday wearing only the greatest clothes money could offer.

Then there was me. Longish-shortish blonde hair. Blue eyes, that were to small to even notice what color they were. Barley even there lips, or eyelashes. Ok, fashion sense... if you call jeans, a hoodie and my five-year old converse fashion. Then to top it all off, I had to wear my clunky black square glasses so I wouldn't bump into any walls. They weren't even the nice kinds that everybody else dies over. No, they were the kind you would find on the nerd in that movie placed in the fifties. And I hated them.

If you saw Sherrie and I walking down the hallway, you would probably stop to gawk at the two girls who shouldn't even be breathing the same air. She was the gorgoues, rich girl who everybody worshiped. While I stood in the background, caught in the wonders of whatever story I had my nose in that week. We were a weird duo, but the perfect one.

She grinned at me as she finished pulling another layer of mascara on.

"I wish you would let me do your makeup." She pouted. I scoff, only thinking about me with makeup...on. I mean I wear the stuff. But only eyeliner. That's it. I've never touched mascara, lip gloss, blush or whatever. And I never tried and I never will.

"Yeah, like that'll happen." I say jokingly. Sherrie chortles and stuffs her beauty supplies in her bag.

"You know you could look marvelous if you just tried."

"Yes, but I like looking average." I say mockingly. Sherrie rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

"Ok, whatever. You will come around some day." She warns, her brown eyes like playful daggers. I giggle, only to stop midway when the door is slammed shut by a large looking man. The class silenced and watched the man with caution as he struts to the front of the room.

It was as if every bone in my body had froze in their sockets when his almost purple eyes reached mine.

"Rachel Monica Welsh." He boomed, every breathing soul's eyes moved to ghost over my body. And if I had known, in that exact moment that, that would be the very last time I would hear my name. The name my parents had so proudly given me. The name that I had been called for the past seventeen years. I would've cheerished it. I would've closed my eyes and memorized every single syllable that was woven into the letters.

But I didn't know. I didn't even give it much thought, because in that moment, I was only thinking about one thing and this one thing scared me. Because as my breathing picked up and my scared wheezes turn into horryifyed screams, my mind flashes to the boy in the back of the room. Hair disheveled, brown eyes glued to the marble floor like always, standing up and charging towards the man at full speed.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 21.09.2013

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