The drawing she holds up takes a second for me to process. Done all in red and black, the slashes on the page almost seem violent. The zombie's skin is ripped and sagging. Dried blood covers his mouth and hands, as he chews on a torn off limb. His eyes are deep and soulless, two obsidian pools. I wish I could say my artwork was this talented, but I'm not even close. I love to create, but am bad at the execution.

I don't know what to say about her drawing, my mind is blank. It's good seems inadequate, however I doubt she really cares about the opinion of a nosy stranger in the first place. Maybe I should introduce myself, however she already knows my name thanks to Mr. Jones. Those blue eyes are distracting, and I find myself drawn to her intense gaze. 

The dark eyeliner she's wearing only makes them stand out more. I can feel my face starting to heat up with her attention directed at me. Ugh, why is talking so difficult? I hate the way I blush, and I get embarrassed over the fact that I'm embarrassed. It's so awful. A second too late, I realize I'm just sitting there staring at her like a weirdo. 

"Like what you see?" She asks with a smirk, her voice low as she puts the picture down and leans forward. "Beck, right?" She waits for my nod before continuing.  "For someone supposedly good at this class you would think you would be better at talking. Or are you being rude on purpose?"

Desperately trying to think of a response, I flinch when the bell rings. I had been lost in my internal panic and didn't realize that much time had passed. Ignoring my usual routine of waiting to be the last to leave, I stand up and walk away like the social reject I am. Because that's not weird at all. She had surprised me with trying to start a conversation, obviously I was definitely ill prepared. For so long I have only talked to my friends, trying to ignore every one around me. 

I mean, let's face it, the majority of people are assholes and not worth it.

Walking towards the lunch room, disgusted with my communication skills, I realize there are bigger issues at hand. The entrance to the feeding frenzy is fast approaching, and I debate on what my strategy should be. Usually I have my friends to sit by, but this year I am the one who got screwed with lunch all alone. Entering into the chaos, people shoving and shouting everywhere, I wonder if skipping lunch and hiding in the library is a better alternative. My stomach rumbles in disagreement, so I take my place in line.

It slowly progresses, and soon I can see the food options for today. School lunch is always terrible, and this menu isn't an exception. The smell wafting back from the metal containers of slop is not appetizing, but my stomach still grumbles. Skipping past what one can only assume is some form of radioactive lasagna, I grab an apple. Mom would be so proud.

I glance around the cafeteria to locate a potential place to sit, when I see Olivia towards the front of the line. She is holding a tray with the questionable pasta and using her other hand to text. She's oblivious to the looks some of the other students are sending her way. I'm sure everyone is curious about her, that's how it goes in a small town. I can't really talk shit, since I am equally as curious. Her style doesn't help, with the piercings and over all vibe she's got going on. In a crowded room she stands out. 

Emma has tried to convince me that we should get our noses pierced, but I feel like my mom would freak. I wonder how long it would take her to notice with how much she has been working lately, but dad definitely would. Knowing my traditional father, he would be pissed. He has a lot of opinions on my appeance, and what a "lady" should look like. Even though I'm eighteen and therefore technically an adult, I abide by his rules since it makes my life easier. 

I'm busy lost in thought as I walk across the room, when I trip. Narrowly missing an edge of a table, I tumble forward. Dropping my recently acquired apple, I use my hands to catch myself before my face hits the tile. Laughs erupt from behind me, and I look over my shoulder to see the Queen Bitch herself. Lisa and Kylie sit beside her, the source of the oboxious cackles. Natasha retracts her slender leg and smiles at me. Of course she has this lunch hour. Fuck my life. 

"You need to watch where you're going! Wouldn't want to squish anyone, can't have somebody dying in the nurse's office." She taunts as she tosses her hair. Natasha always speaks loudly, so that her audience doesn't miss a word. "Love the outfit by the way. I see you are planning on wearing the same three shirts all year."

 I rise quickly, glancing around to see how much attention we have drawn. No teachers are in sight, even though this many adolescents should definitely be supervised. What a surprise. My face is on fire and a retort I will never say burns on my tongue. I look at the ugly white tile and concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.

"Where you going Heifer? I'm talking to you! Don't be rude," Natasha says louder, the laughing continuing as I walk away. 

I pass Olivia at a table sitting alone. Well, I won't have to worry about her trying to talk to me again if she was able to witness that humiliation. Keeping my eyes focused on the cafeteria doors, I feel her gaze as I rush past. I burst through them, trying to breathe. People who linger in the hallway turn to stare, conversations stalling as they wonder what the fat girl is freaking out about. I ignore them and keep moving, looking for a place to hide.