Headphones

Friend?

It was prettier than my school in New Hampshire.
I walk through Flora Hills High School's double doors and look around. The cliques were already starting to form. I let out a huge sigh as I see what undoubtedly will become the popular clique. Three girls walk down the hallway with matching floral-patterned Prada bags. Not a stain on their clothes, not a hair out of place.
"This is gonna be a pain in the ass," I grumble as I walk past the wannabe Paris Hiltons.
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I see people just walking up to strangers and asking them to sit with them at lunch. It hurts to know I'm not one of those strangers, but at least I'm not going to be pressured into anything, clique-wise. "All I really need is my music. Music can be my friend." I think to myself. I'm not about to end up like my brother, drinking and taking any kind of drugs he can get his hands on. "I. Don't. Need. Friends. "
My first three classes were total bull. All they did was tell us to pick a seat, and tell us the class rules. The class rules are always the same, so that's nothing new.
At lunch, I walk to the emptiest table and isolate myself. I'm terrible at starting conversations with people, so I tend to move away from the large crowds. I'm eating my food in solitude as a girl with freckles and mahogany hair sits right across from me and says the three words that would make my day. No. Make my YEAR. Anyway, back to lunch.
GIRL: Are you ok?
ME: That's a very complicated question. I'm lonely.
GIRL: Well, I don't have any friends either, so, do you want to eat together...?
ME: Sure. Um, do you listen to music?
GIRL: No, I've been living under a rock my whole life.
ME: Do you like Radiohead?
GIRL: Yeah! What's your favorite song?
ME: It's between 15 step and Exit Music.
GIRL: Between Creep and Optimistic.
ME: Really? Those are close seconds for me.
GIRL: What's your name?
ME: Alana.
GIRL: I'm Gigi.
And that was how I made my best friend.