In My Blood

Two

The bell rings as I attempt to navigate the labyrinth that is my new school. The hallways are jam packed, but it seems as though no one has realized, or rather, cares to acknowledge my existence. One would think that they'd notice an insect when it passed them. I'd made it my goal to last all this year without being noticed, and so far so good.

89, 90, 91... The numbers skip in front of my eyes as I walk, and I find myself absentmindedly counting them as they go. When I reach 97, I close my eyes before walking forward to contain the disappointment that I expect. After all, it seems inevitable that my locker would look like hell after everything that's happened this morning.

Locker 98 was an old, run down hole in the wall covered by a shoddy piece of rusty metal compared to the other well-kept lockers in the hallway. 

Dents varying in size and damage pepper the metal sheet and lock making it a terrible place to keep books and papers.
Orange dust crumbles from the rusted surface when I touch it,like weird snow or toxic Cheeto dust.
Inside, I find discarded candy wrappers, along with moldy coffee cups, old food, and the shattered remains of a Budweiser bottle. Taped to the sheet of metal was a note that read, " I hope you burn in hell, Alexis!"
I wondered if Alexis had read this note, and whether or not she was responsible for the cesspool of garbage that my locker now held.
Deciding that It would take hours to clean up the locker, hours that I didn't have before I had to reach my next class, I condemned myself to dragging my heavy books in my backpack all day.
By this time, some godly students had noticed my presence in their hallway, and now stood whispering vicious things about me into the ears of those standing directly next to them, spreading the news of my existence.
Grabbing a book from the backpack hanging from one of my shoulders, I shield my face from them, provoking more urgent whispers and inarticulate buzzing to spill from their lips, covered in layers of Revlon and Covergirl.
The loud cacophony that once bounced through the busy hallway is almost gone now, replaced by an almost deafening silence occasionally interrupted by the low hum coming from a small group of students whom, I can imagine, are already fabricating rumors to explain the lack of brand name attire on my person.
The bell rings a second time and the folley disperses, already late for whatever classes they had, and soon I am left alone in the hallway, lost and tardy for my first class on my first day.
I am ten minutes late when I find room 207. Relief washing over me, I turn the knob to find it catching before it can complete its turn. Locked? No, it can't be locked! Through the window of the door, the class is just visible, and they're all staring at me. Some wear smirks of satisfaction while others just eyeball me evilly. All of a sudden, a face appears in the window, blocking my view of the students. This face, I assumed belonged to Mr. Sanders, the teacher who was supposed to be teaching me my first class.
As soon as he appeared, Mr. Sanders slid his face back out of view. Suddenly, the doorknob turns and the door opens.
"Miss Alvares, I presume?" Asks the man in a gruff voice.
"Y-yes,'' I stammer, already feeling intimidated by him.
He crosses his large beefy arms and looks me square in the eye.
"Miss Alvares, I think I ought to explain to you how things work around here,'' he says, not sounding happy nor angry, " You see, in this here classroom, we got some strict rules. If you turn up late to class, then I'll just lock the door on you."
"O-oh,'' I say, feeling my face go hot with embarrassment.''
"Yeah," Mr. Sanders confirms,"But since it's your first day here, I'll just let you off with a warning."
And with that, he opens the door even wider and admits me inside.
"Take a seat next to Dakota," he says, pointing to the empty seat next to a very bejeweled, very orange girl filing her long nails.
Placing my things on the floor, I sit next to Dakota, who takes no interest in me.
After seeing that I was settled in my seat, Mr. Sanders turned back to his board and continued explaining why the sense of touch was interesting and why we needed to think so too.
"So bottom line, if we didn't have the sense of touch we'd just be... all over the place and..." Mr. Sanders' lecture trails on for eternity and eventually I feel myself slip farther and farther away from the classroom and this hell school.