Sophomore year starts today. The summer is officially over, and I have to play the part of the classic new-girl trope storyline.  I recently moved to New York from Chicago because they had to transfer my mother to another hospital, better doctors I've heard, no shade to Chicago though. She was diagnosed with leukemia about four years ago; she's stage four now. The past couple of months have been hard, but I am slowly learning how to cope with the inevitable. Dark, yes, but valid, also yes. 

Walking through these new halls wasn't really weird, but I felt out of place. I don't have a clue where my locker is or homeroom, and to top it off I don't know anyone here. Whoop-dee-do! All I really want to do was to put my earbuds in, play The Smiths on repeat and just draw my little heart away. Then again, I also just want to get through the days with no trouble.

" Watch it, new girl!" A high-pitched, snarky voice says.

"Sorry, I didn't -"

"Just get out of my way,"

" Yeah, sure." I said as I made way for this beauty queen.

Judging by the posse following behind her, I guess I just got my first taste of Midtown High's popular girl. Strutting away with a flip of her blonde hair, the hall clears and there is practically a red carpet laid out for her to walk on.

I finally find my locker, throw my stuff in, and go to class. I chose a seat towards the back, just so I have a chance of going unnoticed. With my trusty earbuds in, sketchbook back in my hands along with my pencil, I can draw. Drawing puts me at ease, so I can finally relax for a bit. As I let the pencil move across the paper, shading and adding details to his suit, I notice a shadow over my shoulder. I turn around and see a boy who looked about my age, with brown floppy hair and dark chocolate eyes. He went a little pink when my eyes met his.

"Sorry," he says," You dropped this." he hands me one of my charcoal pencils.

"Thanks, I probably would have never noticed."

"No problem. Did you draw that?" He asks, looking worried.

"Yeah, I like drawing figures and he is just so cool to watch, don't ya think?" I was referring to the swinging Spider-Man in my sketchbook.

"Yeah, I don't see him much though. But that is really good," he compliments. I've always been told I'm approachable, so I don't understand why he looks nervous to be speaking to me.

"Thank you," I blush, " I'm Amelia by the way,"

"Peter," He said.

"Nice to meet you, Peter."

"You too, Amelia."

As he walked away the bell rang, signaling that this 7:20 class is going to begin. To avoid getting in trouble the first day, I unhappily place my sketchbook inside my desk and take my earbuds out. Our teacher walks in and introduces herself as Mrs. Winterhalter and tells us what we would be working on the first semester; what book we were going to read, projects, tests, you know, AP English.

When the bell sounds ninety minutes later, I am relieved because I can go to math. I am pretty good at it and just like solving problems. Like English, I sit in the back, this time noticing that Peter was in class with me. The class went on and we did some icebreakers to introduce ourselves to our classmates, then we practiced some equations we learned as freshmen.

~~~

Eventually, I made it to lunch, knowing I had art next which I was stoked about. Although lunch is a "subject" I look forward to, I realize I have no one to sit with, which defeats the entire concept of this "class" being as fun as it is.

I wander around for a moment, scanning tables, seeing friend groups and cliques conjoin to talk about their summer. My eyes land on a long, empty table at the back, where Peter happens to be, along with whom I presume to be his friend. I remember my dad saying this morning to try and make friends. Building up the confidence to socialize, I walk over and ask as politely as I can,

"Can I sit here?"

Both of them looking surprised someone even approached them.

"Y-yeah, yeah. Go ahead, of course" Peter said, going light red in the cheeks.

"Thanks. You're just the only person who talked to me today, making you the only person I know here," I chuckle nervously, placing my lunch and books down on the table.

"Who are you," said Peter's friend.

"Oh, sorry. I am Amelia. I just moved here from Chicago," I say, extending my arm to shake his hand.

"Oh, I'm Ned. I'm friends with Peter." He said, looking a little confused, but accepting my hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ned. Sorry if I intruded in on anything, I can go if you guys want," I offer literally after Peter said it was okay to sit with them.

"No, no, it's ok. No one should sit alone on the first day." Peter smiles.

"So, how's your first day going?" Ned asks, digging into his sandwich that smells quite strongly of tuna.

"Uh, well, it's been good for the most part. I've gotten to draw a little and I have art next, so I'm looking forward to that."

"Really? I have art next too," Peter reacts.

"Sweet! Can I sit by you there too?" I ask, laughing slightly. Peter's cheeks are still slightly tinted pink; I blush slightly. 

"Y-yeah sounds good. Besides, I'll probably need your help with something during the class. You know with like colors or something,"

Ned looks at him curiously, about to ask something, but is abruptly cut off by an obnoxious shout from across the cafeteria.

"Yo Parker!" They yell.

Peter slowly looks down and tries to gather all of his stuff, looking like he knew something was coming. Spinning on my chair, I look around to see who had called "Parker". 

To no surprise, it's the textbook picture of a jock and all of his friends around him, along with that bitchy blonde girl from this morning, posse and all.

"Already became friends with the new girl, got a little crush, Parker?" The boy said with a baby voice. Christ O' mighty could boys be more annoying?

"Hey! I remember you- you're the girl that turns into a statue in the middle of the hallway," the blonde girl hissed. All her friends began to giggle and snicker, as she began to look around for cheers.

"Oh, I remember you too! You're the girl who wakes up happy being a bitch to people." I reply.

"Excuse me?" She seethed. " Do you even know who I am?" She asks.

"You heard me." I respond, knowing if she challenges me again all of my comebacks ("all"being all of two) my argument will crumble.

"Let me put this straight for you new girl, don't talk to me or anyone of us unless you want your pretty pictures burning in the trash cans outside with the homeless scums." She threatened, sending me glares that felt like they were going to burn through my chest.

"Okay." I said, trying to hold my smile back as her words just sound so cringey.

"I'm Sally, by the way, welcome to Midtown, bitch." She smiles sarcastically. Figuring the 'popular kids' got bored of us, they walked away, sashaying their long hair and designer purses, the boys shouting cheers and making as much noise as possible. Meanwhile, both Peter and Ned were staring at me as if a shark had just eaten my arm.

"What?" I question.

"N-nothing, we've just never seen someone do that," Ned exclaims.

"Oh, I just hate it when people walk all over others, but after I say something, I have no comeback," I chuckle.

"Well, it's more than Peter and I have ever said." Ned explained.

"Yeah, well, at my old school I had to deal with people like them a lot."

"Really, why?" Peter said looking surprised, his head turning to look directly at me.

"I dunno, I was just the weird kid that was smart- yes, being smart wasn't necessarily a nice personality trait, more of an invitation to be picked on -and sat in the back always drawing."

"You, weird?" Ned questions.

"Why are you so surprised by that?" I ask. Peter looked like he was going to say something, but his lips parted and clamped shut just as fast. 

A strange pregnant pause later, I break the silence,

"Okay, well, I'm going to go to art. I've wanted to sketch all day." I say taking my earbuds out of my pocket.

"Okay, see ya," says Peter.

As I walked to art I wondered if I had just made new friends or gave a bad impression of myself. I choose to believe I am a semi-interesting person. I know making friends isn't a talent of mine, but I hope Ned and Peter will let me sit with them at lunch in the future.

Finally making it to the art studio, I ask the teacher if I could hang out here and draw. She said it was fine as long as I was quiet. Beginning to draw, I lose myself in the music playing in my head, letting the pencil glide across the paper. Eventually, I realize that class had started and I have to put my stuff up, not even noticing the crowd of eyes staring at me and the image of the man in red in blue in my lap.