Vi Presento a Athea (Introducing Athea)

II

"Everyone, this is Athea." Before she could have noticed, Athea found herself in a very nerve-racking situation. She stood by Mrs.Caldwell, in front of a full American high school classroom, having trouble breathing with the amount of looks driven to her. Paralyzed, she wasn't even able to try to smile and seem friendly in the hopes of finding a possible new friend (as she had planned to), her only reaction being to hold on to her bag strap for dear life. "She just moved here from Italy, so please be nice to her." Mrs. Caldwell had barely finished her sentence when, from the back of the class, emerged the classical theme song from Mario's games. The class burst in laughter and Athea tightened her hold, her eyes directing themselves to her feet now. "Very funny." Mrs. Caldwell scolded the students. "The next class-clown to come up with stereotypical or prejudiced jokes will be paying a visit to the headmaster's office before this class is over." The students fell silent as Mrs. Caldwell pointed a vacant seat near the window. Athea made her way quickly, sitting down into hiding as fast as she possibly could.

"Hey, Italian meat." A male voice called from her right side. Looking over, a boy with the looks of a jock, wearing the school's something-team's bomber jacket, slightly tan skinned and wavy brown hair, sitting perhaps a bit too comfortable on his chair – more like lying down on his chair, to be perfectly honest – asked her. "What did you bring for lunch? I could really use something other than the cafeteria's mashed potatoes."

"W-why do you ask me that?" Athea stuttered before the jock's commanding presence, her mind going straight to the romantic high school comedies. She curled up the sleeves of her cardigan between her hands, her nervous social skills coming through.

"What? Doesn't your family own a restaurant or something?" He seemed overly-surprised. "But what about all the pizzas, the lasagnas and spaghettis?" He started talking more loudly, making stereotypical Italian hand gestures. All students nearby laughed, including the joker himself. Athea just sat in astonishment, her mind coming up with all kinds of answers to that pathetic jest but her body refusing to work the muscles to open her mouth. The slight moment of silence was enough, of course, for another joke to come up. A different boy, dark-brown hair and piercing blue eyes, sitting on the other side of the jester also said something:

"Hey, I don't think it understands English." And laughed. The original clown leaned forward, staring at her wide-eyed.

"D-o  y-o-u  k-n-o-w  w-h-a-t  I  a-m  s-a-y-i-n-g?" He spoke slowly. Did he think she was stupid or something? That really started to tick her nerve. Her face expression, however, remained completely bland – which for him was the result of a successful joke. He burst laughing along with the people around.

"Roll call, Mr. Turner." Mrs. Caldwell said in a louder tone, making the boy turn his body back to the front of the class. "And I hope I made myself clear at the beginning of class." She said and her head made a movement towards the door. 'Mr. Turner' got up with a long sigh and made his way out of class, leaving Athea with some room to breathe. "And I've got my eyes on you, Mr. O'Connell." Mrs. Caldwell turned her stare over to the blue-eyed boy who had also made fun of the newcomer. He simply threw his hands up by his shoulders.

"Guilty." He smiled maliciously, revealing a single dimple on his right cheek. Athea breathed out a muffled indignant laugh, still astonished by the stupidity of the xenophobic actions she had just witnessed. Had America just stopped in time and ceased to evolve or something? Ugh, she missed Italy so much.

She finished her morning lessons still upset about first period. Although the picking had slightly decreased throughout the morning as she changed between different classrooms, it seemed as if those two wannabe circus clowns were in every single one of her classes – and, with the end of first period, Mr. Turner returned to his daily schedule of provocation on the newly-arrived "Italian meat".