It’s 7:45. On the dot. Yet not everyone is here yet.

I groan and am about to rub my eyes, when I realize I can’t because I’ve put twenty minutes into doing my makeup today, more specifically, into making my eyeliner perfect, extra pointy, yet not too extra in and of itself. Just enough to accentuate the eyes, to achieve the grunge aesthetic. Yes, I know. How pathetic it is that my life’s come down to trying to look like a certain aesthetic.

The door to the classroom opens—a girl with long, reddish-brown hair steps in–and peers around nervously. This girl–she must be new–seems to be taking in her surroundings with fresh new eyes.

“Hello! And you are…?” Mrs. Arnold questions.

“H-hi. I’m Elena.”

“Oh great! Elena, you’re seated next to the girl in the middle table of the room, no, not that one, the one with the blue hair.”

Ah, yes. “The one with blue hair” or “the girl with blue hair” or some variation like that. That’s what everyone knows me as: “the one with the blue hair.” Ever since I dyed my hair just days before my freshman year of high school, it’s been my unofficial nickname. It was annoying at first, but not so much anymore.

Anyways, this girl–I forget her name already–trots to the seat next to mine and pulls the chair back, settling down.

“Hi,” she whispers to me, searching my eyes for some comfort. Immediately I can tell that she has an accent. Not that an accent is bad, of course. It’s just that she pronounces “hi” as “hai.” It’s kind of cute.

No. You can’t do this to yourself. Remember what happened last year.

“I’m Elena,” she continues, shrugging her black Jansport backpack off, setting it to the side of her chair. “What’s your name?”

I take a moment to respond; she definitely has an accent–and I love it–she pronounces her name as “eh-leh-nah” instead of the American way, “eh-lay-na.” I wonder where she comes from?

Elena blinks at me expectantly, waiting for me, expectantly, to introduce myself. I do my best to recover, but I’m still a little flustered. Get a grip, you moron.

“H-hi. I’m Adelia. Are you new?”

“Yeah. I actually moved to America a few months ago. I come from Bucharest, the capital of Romania.”

I cock my head to the side. For a moment, I don’t know where Romania is, but then it registers. “Oh, isn’t that where Dracula is from?”

Elena laughs, a burst of song coming out of her throat. “Da–I mean, yeah—but Romania is so much more than that!”

“Okay everyone, settle down,” Mrs. Arnold sounds over the clamor. Somehow, I didn’t notice that everyone else slipped in and went to their assigned seats, probably a result of me talking to Elena. “I’m Mrs. Arnold. I’m your homeroom teacher, in addition to teaching chemistry honors. So, I’m sure I’ll see some of you later today, maybe even next block. Now, I’ll take attendance.”

“Are you in chemistry honors too, Adelia?” Elena questions, smiling at me. Her smile brightens her already beautiful face; she’s actually so pretty, it’s insane. It should be illegal to be so pretty.

“Yeah, I am. Why, are you as well?”

“Yes!” Elena breathes.

“What block?”

“Second block.”

“Me too!” I reply. I’m actually excited; maybe I could make a new friend? I sure do need some, considering what happened last year

“Emily Pellegrini,” Mrs. Arnold calls out.

Ugh. That bitch.

“Here!” she calls out, primly raising her hand, not too high, yet not too low. God, I miss her so much. Stop. She did you wrong. You deserve so much better.

Yes, but I feel so lonely without a partner.

You’ll get one.

The two sides of my brain keep arguing until I hear my name called by Mrs. Arnold.

“Here,” I respond, raising my hand.

“Elena Petrescu?” The last name comes out as a question.

“I’m here,” she replies quickly, raising her hand.

I take Elena in truly for the first time. She’s wearing a baggy blue cardigan with puffy white clouds–it looks crocheted–and some gray straight-legged jeans, with rips on each knee. Oh, and the Converses, which have sunflowers embroidered onto them. Oh, and the jeans have some flowers embroidered on them, too. Damn. This girl is either really crafty or knows exactly where to shop.

“What?” Elena catches me staring. She giggles under her breath.

“No, nothing. I was just looking at your outfit. Did you make it? Or at least parts of it?”

“Mhm,” she replies, tucking a stray strand of reddish-brown hair behind her ear. “I crocheted the cardigan. And I embroidered the jeans.”

“Woah! That’s so cool. What about the Converses?”

“Unfortunately no. But I could! I do have the skill, not to brag,” Elena replies, grinning at me.

“Okay. Now that I’ve taken attendance of everyone, I’ll hand out your planners for the year, as well as your chromebooks and chargers. Be sure not to lose any of these, especially the chromebook and the charger! Otherwise, you’ll have to pay a fee for a replacement.”

As Mrs. Arnold goes around passing everyone their items, I bury my head in my arms, careful not to ruin my makeup, and I try to doze off for a bit, or at least until homeroom is dismissed.

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Turns out, Elena and I see each other sooner than chemistry; so far, we have every class together.

It’s currently block three, just before lunch. We’re seated in algebra two honors, coloring and designing the name tags our teachers assigned us to make.

Glancing over at Elena’s, it’s obvious the girl is artistic; she’s written her first name in these really pretty bubble letters, all shaded and highlighted prettily. So far, she’s only proven to be a perfect person. Maybe even someone you could have a chance with.

God, how pathetic I am.

You’re so desperate. Just wait until the right one comes for you. You can’t—

“What do you think, Adelia?” Elena swivels her whole body to face me, and holds out the name tag for me to see. I pretend to examine it–I already just did before she asked me, but I don’t want to make it weird–and after a few moments, I respond. “Ooh. That looks so good! Here’s mine.”

I hold mine out, which is really just a sad attempt at bubble letters and is colored various shades of blue. If you can’t tell by now, my favorite color is blue.

“That looks good too!”
“Don’t lie,” I contradict, placing the name tag back onto the table and turning back to Elena, facing her picture-perfect face.

“No, I’m serious! It looks nice. The variation of the blues used makes it look like an ocean–reminds me of home, to be honest,” Elena explains sentimentally.

“Romania, you mean?”

“Yes. In Romania, there is one body of water, and it’s called the Black Sea.”

“Why’s it called that? Is the water actually black?”

“No, of course not,” Elena chuckles, turning her gaze back down to her name tag. “It’s named that because of the climate. The water does look dark, but I personally wouldn’t say it looks dark enough to be considered black, yet many people would disagree with me, hence the name.”

“You speak kind of British English, you know?” I blurt out suddenly. As soon as I do, I regret it. I’m convinced it came out all wrong. So much for making a good impression so far. Moron.

“I mean, yeah,” Elena replies. “The English we’re taught in Romania is British English. Romania is in Europe, after all.”

“Oh, makes sense,” I concede, nodding to myself. I don’t know if she intended it, but that was a bit of a slap to the face. Or, not really. I know she didn’t mean it that way. But that makes me think she can win, like, any argument. Ugh. Why is she good at everything?

“Okay, class. The bell is going to ring in two minutes. If you didn’t finish your name tag, bring it home and finish it there. It’s due tomorrow.”

I unzip my, of course, blue Jansport backpack, which has all these pins on it, and grab my algebra folder, slipping the name tag into the folder so I can complete it at home.

“We have lunch after this, right?” Elena questions.

“Yeah.”

Elena nods. “Mind if I…sit with you? I don’t know anyone other than you, and you’re a really nice and helpful person.”

“Aw, thank you! You’re also very kind. Sure! But just know I’m sitting with a few of my other friends.”

Elena’s smile falters a bit. “Oh, um, okay.”

She returns her gaze to her name tag, clutching her hands in her lap. I notice that, while she doesn’t have any nail polish on, her nails are nicely kept, unlike mine, which I have to paint all the time; otherwise, I’ll just bite them all off. Anyway, I can tell something is a little off with Elena now.

“Hey,” my voice is barely above a whisper. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Elena snaps out of her trance, looking past me at first, then at my eyes. “Oh yeah. I just have bad social anxiety.”

My eyes widen in understanding. “Oh. Are you nervous about my other friends being there?”

Elena gulps slightly and nods.

“I know this probably doesn’t help you, but you really don’t have to worry about them! I assure you, they don’t bite. And they will like you, because we’re…” I falter at the right word to use. Friends? No. Too soon. “...familiar and nice with each other.” I wince at my choice of words. Could be worse, though.

“Would they not be okay with me if we weren’t friends?”

There. She’s said it. Though a bit prematurely, but I honestly don’t mind.

“Well…” my voice trails off. I struggle to find the right words, again. Ugh. Words. Words and I are practically enemies. “They’ve been protective of me because…last year some stuff happened. But I don’t feel like talking about it right now. Do you mind?”

“No, not at all! You don’t have to talk about something you’re not comfortable talking about. No one can force that out of you. Speak about it when you’re comfortable enough, and if that never happens, that’s okay too.”

Just then, the bell rings, but I don’t get out of my seat. Instead, I just stare at Elena for a few seconds. You’re making it obvious that you’re staring.

I know.

Her words strike through me and course through my veins into my heart. No one, not one single person I’ve known in my life, has ever told me that. Not even Emily. She was quite the opposite, in fact, always forcing me to talk about things I didn’t want to talk about, pushing me around. She then used all of that against me, like I was the one in the wrong, when she really was.

“You coming?”

I snap out of my trance, and I can feel the heat creep up my face. Great. “Um. yeah. Sorry, I just had something on my mind.”

“Don’t worry about it! I always have something on my mind too.”

I shove my folder into my backpack, zip it up, and stand up, slinging the bag over my shoulders. The pins on my bag, which display various things about me, such as the fact that I love Arctic Monkeys and MCR, as well as the fact that I’m a lesbian, make some clatter, and it does annoy me. But what do I do? I still keep the pins on. The amount of noise they make always annoys me, but I never do anything about it. Just like I do for many other things in my life. Just keep going with the flow, try not to care, keep looking forward, keep your gaze steady, just straight ahead. Everything will be okay, everything will be okay.