I’m No Ordinary Girl, Chapter One, Part Two
Trigger Warning: Bullying
Read: I’m No Ordinary Girl, Chapter One, Part One
The English teacher, Mrs. Angelo passes out the course syllabus and as soon as I get a copy I skim through to see what books we will read this year. The book title, “To Kill A Mockingbird” grabs my attention and I scratch my head wondering what the book is about. The title is very metaphorical. Mrs. Angelo walks over to her maple color wood desk. She glowers into her pencil holder trying to decide what color marker to use. She writes the supply list on the whiteboard with a red dry erase marker. The only thing I didn’t buy is a composition notebook. I’ll write myself a note in my agenda, so I can tell my mom when I get home.
“One of our first books will be ‘Romeo and Juliet’ written by William Shakespeare. As we read through ‘Romeo and Juliet’ we will examine the story for literary devices like metaphors, etc.” The bell rings and everyone jumps out of their seats except for me. Even if I could move fast, I would respectfully wait for the teacher to dismiss the class.
Over the sound of a herd of elephants. Mrs. Angelo shouts. “Please write a one-page essay about yourself for homework.”
I take joy in writing but always find it difficult to write about myself. Global History and Earth Science class went by hasty like English class. I can’t believe it’s twelve-thirty in the afternoon and time for lunch. I leave science class, walk down the hall turn left and wait for the elevator. As the elevator takes me downstairs, I get out my agenda because I tape my elevator pass on the inside cover. I wave hello to Mrs. Ellis as I turn the knob to enter the Nurse’s office.
“Hello, Samantha, how is your day going?”
“It’s going well, thanks for asking, Nurse Jackie.” I place my pink backpack onto the blue chair by the window. Nurse Jackie pulls my glucose meter out of the locked cabinet by the first aid station. I prick my finger with the needle and squeeze blood onto the test strip. “Nurse Jackie, can I please have some juice?”
“Is your blood sugar low?”
“Yes, it’s sixty-eight.”
She brings me a small bottle of orange juice. “Do you feel shaky, cold sweats or any symptoms at all?”
“No, I don’t have any symptoms.”
Nurse Jackie places her hand on my wrists and forehead to see if I feel clammy. For those who know little about diabetes a person’s blood sugar is low when it is below seventy. As well, a person’s blood sugar is high if it’s over one hundred and forty. If your blood sugar is low, the best thing to do is drink juice because it raises your sugar fast. I move my backpack off the chair and look out the window while I drink my juice. The clouds look like pillows floating across the bright blue sky. There’s a patch of gray clouds sitting in one corner of the sky. I can’t make out what could be inside the gray clouds. Is it lightning or something else?
“Nurse Jackie, is it going to rain this afternoon?”
“I’m not sure Samantha, why do you ask?”
“A few clouds are dark like a rainstorm is brewing.” Nurse Jackie looks out the window.
“The clouds look white and fluffy to me.”
That’s strange, but the weather is ever-changing. I go into the cafeteria and I see all the girls gossiping with their friends and it makes me miss my best friend. I was thinking about going to the same high school as her. Lilly told me I worked too hard to get accepted at Greenwood Technical High School. You know you have a true best friend when they think about what is best for you. I sit down at a round table towards the back of the cafeteria. I’m picturing my bestie with orange cheese dust on her fingers from eating Cheetos. When a cute guy walks by us, she always twirls the ends of her light brown hair.
I eat the turkey and cheese sandwich I made myself because I hate school lunches unless they have a pizza. I eat alone in the cafeteria reading my book. I’m at the part where Meg realizes that her parents created the Tesseract. The Tesseract involves traveling through time and space. I have never read a book that dealt with time travel, it’s so captivating and makes me not want to stop reading.
It may sound unrealistic, but I aspire to write an amazing story like my favorite authors Cassandra Clare, and far more. I dream of becoming a teacher ever since I was four years old. It would be a dream come true to write a story and share it with the world. After I finish eating, I use the bathroom and head back to the elevator to go to Algebra I class. I’m not looking forward to math because it has always been challenging. I’m crossing my fingers that taking a math lab twice a week will help me improve. Sitting at my desk waiting for the teacher skimming through the math textbook. Reading about what types of equations I will be learning this year. In the textbook, “Solving for slope use the equation, Y=MX +B.” I deem confident that I can figure out Algebra if I study hard and ask for help.
A tall skinny man with glasses introduced himself as Mr. Dennis. He passes out a half sheet of paper. “Please write any equations that you can remember from last year.” I drew a blank face, I presume I’m having a brain fart the only equation I can remember is the one I read two minutes ago. It’s the only thing I can think of and I must write something. I pass my paper to the blonde hair girl sitting in front of me and she brings all the papers from our row to Mr. Dennis’s desk. Mr. Dennis has an intimidating look on his face as he skims through all the papers. Suddenly his frown turned into a smile. “Who wrote the equation for slope?”
I felt embarrassed about what happened in English class this morning, but I can’t be rude. You must answer the teacher when spoken to. I arose in fear and trembling in front of my desk. “I look at the textbook before class began and I’m sorry it was the only thing I could remember when I got the sheet of paper.”
“Thank you for your honesty, Samantha.” Mr. Dennis said with a smile on his face.
It sounded like I was at a concert because everyone is jeering “Nerd.” I ask if I could use the bathroom even though I didn’t have to go. I had to leave the classroom before they saw tears pour down my face. I peer into the bathroom mirror feeling vulnerable. Past experiences of being bullied float in the back of my mind. I wipe away my tears and splash cold water on my face. Whispering to myself, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. like my favorite Kelly Clarkson song. I walk back to math class and went back to my seat.
Glaring at the supply list on the syllabus and making a note that I need a scientific calculator. I place the syllabus and the worksheet for homework in my blue glitter folder and pull out the matching notebook.
Mr. Dennis is at the whiteboard explaining how to find the slope and the equation for slope. I write a word for word so, I can do good on the homework. Class ends, and I put all my belongings into my backpack. On the way down to the elevator, I see a flyer that says, “Auditions for concert choir tomorrow after school.” Only a few people know that I have a passion for music and I love to sing. I’m very shy and I could never picture myself singing in front of hundreds of people, but I kind of want to audition. Another thing my great grandmother taught me is how to sing “Over the Rainbow” from the Wizard of Oz.
Before I go outside to wait for my dad to pick me up, I want to find out where my locker will be so, I can use it tomorrow. Most often they give out locker information with the class schedule, but I didn’t see it on my schedule. I walk down the hall through the main office and knock on Mrs. Ellis’s office door.
“Come in.”
“Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Ellis, but I have a question regarding locker assignments.”
“Oh, dear, I’m sorry, I forgot to give you your locker slip this morning.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Ellis. See you tomorrow!”
I peeked out the window by the main entrance and I see our family van outside. I’m so happy to see my dad.
“Hey sweetie, how was your day?”
“It was good. I love my English teacher. Mrs. Angelo classroom is filled with many posters with inspirational quotes. Oh, and the best part is the row of bookcases on the back wall of the classroom.”
“I’m glad you had a wonderful day.”
Dad drives down Main Street jamming to the country radio station. He glances at me and smiles because I’m singing along to Taylor Swift. Not sure, if I should tell dad about the auditions. I can sing in front of my parents, and sometimes with my best friend, but I don’t know if I can do it in front of everyone. I get teased about my weight, for being a nerd and special accommodations. What else can they bully me for?
When I arrive home. I take my backpack upstairs to my bedroom and set it down on my desk chair. I slowly go down the stairs and help mom went dinner in the kitchen. I am blessed to have such amazing parents, who always take incredible care of me and support me in everything I do. Mom hands me the brown salad bowl and orange knife. I pour the container of grape tomatoes into the strainer to wash them. I cut the tomatoes in half and threw them in with the roman lettuce and cucumbers. I always love being in the kitchen with my mom and watching her make food. My mom is always happy and, in her glory, when she is cooking because it’s her passion.
My parents and I sit down in the dining room and enjoy a home cook meal. The house smells like Olive Garden because we’re eating breadsticks, salad, and pasta. You can smell the garlic and herbs. While a dad is scraping the plate, I debate if I should say something about the singing auditions.
“Something on your mind, sweetheart?” Mom asks.
How does she always know when something is bothering me? “I want to talk to you and dad about auditioning for concert choir.”
“No kidding, Samantha,” says Dad.
Mom has a concerned look on her face. “Honey, I know you love to sing, but you’re very shy.”
Dad says, “Give it a shot.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’m still thinking about it.” I go upstairs to work on my English essay. I consider what my parents told me and if I could picture myself singing on stage in the auditorium.
Four hours later. I take my nighttime medication and eat a big bowl of my favorite ice cream, mint chocolate chip. I lay down in bed watching Full House on Nickelodeon and slowly drift to sleep. There is a girl shaking from limb to limb. The girl is pale as a ghost. There is a continuous beeping noise in the background.
“I know your Destiny,” a mysterious voice said.
My eyes awaken, and I scream “Where am I?”
