Standing Out

“Beep, beep, beep,” my alarm clock stammered. I begrudgingly turned it off. It had awoken me to imminent misery.

Irritated, I uttered my annoyance at the luminescent sun and the whole concept of school in the morning. I rubbed my bleary eyes as they adjusted to the gloomy lighting of my room. I sighed. Summer was over and school was back. There was no avoiding it.

I threw on a wrinkly tee-shirt and slipped into some loose sweatpants. I sloppily formed a ponytail and fastened it in place. I probably looked horrible, so I didn’t bother looking at my reflection in the mirror.

Realizing that I was low on time to catch the bus, I quickly devoured my cereal and chugged a glass of milk. Snatching my backpack and lunch box in disgust, I stomped out the door.

I felt a warm summer breeze tickle my face as I trudged halfheartedly to my bus stop. I saw a pale blue sky above and heard the grass crunching below my feet. But it felt like I was floating. It was as though I was in a dream, drifting unwilling about, waiting to become the prey of another nightmare. The dream was enhanced by sounds and emotion, but it had no direction. I had no purpose, even in my own phantasm.

I didn’t have to wait long before the bus came into view. I boarded the vehicle with trepidation, flinching in anticipation of the insults. But nothing came, just a brief silence and then a stern scolding from the bus driver.

“Move along. I don’t have all day to wait on lollygagging children like you.” She reiterated her sentiment from last year.

I looked around frantically and didn’t know where to sit. I was surprised to see Jessabelle sitting by herself. Along with her reputation, her beauty also diminished. She wasn’t wearing designer clothing and she didn’t have a smug expression on her face like usual. She dressed as though she was impoverished and had a heartbreaking, despondent stare.

I considered sitting with her, but thought better of it. Luckily, after a great deal of deliberation, I found an empty seat in the very back. I pulled out a book and pretended to be deeply immersed in it. Maybe if the other children didn’t see me there, they wouldn’t pick on me. I was stunned that my plan worked.

As I approached the brick building of Mulberry Intermediate Center and nudged the door open, I was further amazed. In the hallway there was a large banner that read, “Welcome back, Mya Anderson!” There was also a table nearby where my peers could write a note to me congratulating me on my recovery.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I rushed over to the table and saw a whole container full of messages for me, Mya Anderson!

Instead of mocking me, people greeted me in the hallway, determined to start a meaningful conversation. No one came up with nicknames for me and everyone seemed genuinely respectful. Then recess struck.

Once it was time to be dismissed to play outside, I was left with the cruel realization that I still hadn’t befriended anyone. So, naturally, I took up my usual post at the swings. Head down, I kicked off, feeling the wind whip across my face in the late summer heat. I moved back and forth, back and forth. I swung until I couldn’t go any higher, until my feet weren’t touching the ground.

I was back in that dream again, twisting and turning on a road that led to nowhere. I was grasping in the darkness for answers and gasping in the oppressive environment for air. And to my breathless astonishment, I found a light. At first, it appeared to be a vengeful will-o’-the-wisp, but it was ultimately a luminous lantern, ready to free me of my nightmare’s dark void.

“Mya,” a voice stuttered my name, clearly hesitant.

I opened my eyes and I felt my feet abrasively sweep the ground, grinding to a halt. I looked up and I didn’t know how to react. It was Jessabelle.

Out of the blue, she embraced me, and we remained like that for a great deal of time. After profusely apologizing to me, she asked me if I would sit with her at lunch.

I smiled. “On one condition,”

Jessabelle looked at me expectantly.

“We invite all of the kids who are forced to sit at the Weirdo Deposit Area to our table.”

Jessabelle nodded. “If there still was a Weirdo Deposit Area, I would have joined, anyway. Just look at me, Mya. I’m a mess.” She paused. “I was terrible to you. I valued my reputation more than our friendship and made your time at school miserable. After my parents divorced and I was left with nothing but my mother’s love, I’ve done a lot of thinking. I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

We embraced again. When the recess bell sounded and it was time for lunch, we walked in together, side by side. I was no longer alone and I was finally somebody. I was Mya Anderson.