The Mask Part 3: Back to the Start
The next day, my mom woke me up and dropped me off at school. When I got there, everyone was staring me down like a pack of wolves ready to pounce. I put on my hood and walked to class. Juliet, one of my friends, came and sat down next to me during first period.
“Hey. Are you doing well? Are you ok? I saw you running toward the back of the school again. You need anything?” Juliet asked.
“No I’m fine. But thanks for looking out for me.”
Juliet was unlike other people. She was autistic and was very shy. I was happy she came up to me to check if I was doing ok. Speaking up was usually out of her comfort zone.
She sat back down at her seat and the bell rang. We sat down and took out our notebooks to jot down some notes.
“Hey did you see that girl yesterday?” said a girl behind me to her friend.
“Yeah, isn’t she the one that was crying? I feel so bad for her,” her friend said back.
“Well she’s a jerk,” said the first girl.
“Girls get back to work!” screamed Mr. Falincio, my math teacher.
The two girls laughed and got back to work.
I started to write scribbles on my notebook. I scrunched up my whole face but put up a fake grin. My thoughts swirled in my mind in an infinite loop. After class ended, my teacher told me to stay in class.
“While I was walking around and checking everyone’s work,” said Mr. Falincio. “You were writing gibberish! Try harder next time.”
He wrote me a tardy pass to my next class, and I left his class. My next class, which was core, was boring and I didn’t even pay attention once. At lunch time, these two girls came up to me. They looked like seventh graders, but I couldn’t tell.
“Thanks for spilling milk on Lucia,” said the first seventh grader. “She was a jerk. She was bullying everyone in the sixth grade.
“You’re like, a life saver,” said the second. “Also why do you not talk that much? You know, everyone thinks you’re a hero. I would love to be friends.”
We exchanged phone numbers and they walked away. After lunch, I couldn’t forget that moment. Was I actually an outcast, or someone meant to be popular? – Clarissa G Schroeder