The Best Are Different

Nayal Achilles - All Aliens

Freshman year starts with a bang - unexpectedly, hitting me squarely in the face. 

My doctors have always said that I should go to a public school, to blend in with others like me. I've never agreed. There is no one like me. As I've moved from foster home to foster home, from Italy to England to California to Louisiana, all the families have agreed - I'm different, I must be kept away. 

Except this one. Mr Firway is a devout businessman, and his son, Trevor, is already in college. They cannot take care of me or school me at home, so, much to the delight of the doctors, it was decided that I would go to public school. 

I don't like this foster family. They make fun of my British accent, grown from living in England for so long with a foster family that actually liked me, and say that I'm a freak. They were the only ones that would take me in, because of an incident that happened in my Californian home, and so I had to come here. 

Mr Firway sets a bowl of gloopy cereal in front of me. "Here, Nayal. Eat the food." he says in a cooing voice you would use on a toddler. "Do you need a spoon?" 

"It's cereal, of course I do." I snap. 

Mr Firway guffaws, like he always does when I talk. "Okay, honey." 

"Don't call me honey. You're not my father." I scowl at his back while he goes to get the spoon. 

"Be polite, Nayal, be grateful you have a house to live in." Mr Firway is losing his patience with me, but he always does; it's nothing new to me. 

When I've picked at my food and eaten possibly half a spoonful, he snatches the bowl from me and tells me to get ready for school. I dress randomly, yanking on a yellow tank-top, pink skinny jeans, and after some thought, topping my outfit with a green fedora hat. I love hats. They hide me from the normal ones. 

The drive to school is silent, and I don't break the silence. When he pulls into the circle, I snatch my pack and exit the car without a word of thanks or bye. 

The overwhelming chatter and cheer of all the kids around me makes me dizzy, and I stagger over to a bench and clutch the sides of my head. I can hear people whispering and pointing, as if they thought that I wouldn't hear their quiet jeers beside me. There was more of a chance that I wouldn't hear them if they were yelling, like everyone else. 

The bell rings, adding to the hectic clamour of the schoolyard, and I wait until the halls have cleaned to slowly stand up and make my way to my first class. 

"You're late, Miss Achilles." a voice cuts into my head, and I whimper slightly, not looking up. 

I feel a hand firmly grasp my shoulder and guide me over to a chair, then push me down into it. "This is History, Nayal. Have you got that? You're in History class." 

I don't respond, only tense as the hand touches my shoulder again. 

"I'm Mrs Taylor, Nayal. Have you got that? You can call me Mrs Taylor." 

Tentatively, I try nodding, but I don't open my eyes. 

"All right, Miss Achilles, you're sitting right next to my desk, so you can ask me anything." promises Mrs Taylor's voice. 

The whole class is muttering now, words of "pointy ears" and "tiny girl" and "sixth grader" and a whole ton of names and types I've been called before. 

The teacher doesn't tell them off. She thinks I'm a freak too. But they're the freaks. 

The lesson is boring, dull, and when it finishes, I stumble through two more lessons, not hearing anything. 

Then there is lunch. The worst part of the day. 

The chatter and clatter almost makes me scream, but I don't. Instead I run to a quiet spot, far away, on the school's field, away from lunch. 

I can hear someone else breathing behind me, but I don't say anything, and neither does she. 

Because I can already tell that she's different. Not like me. Just different from the rest. And she knows what it's like to be an alien.