Page 16 of Our Final Encore

I work hard at every subject, and my 4.0 gpa is a testament to that. But if I had to choose a least favorite, it would be math. So having it first thing in the morning wouldn’t have been my choice, unfortunately we don’t get to choose what time our classes are.

I sit down at a desk near the back corner of the room, slinging my worn out backpack off my shoulder and onto the floor next to me. I take out my notebook and calculator and set them on my desk. My hands are a little shaky. First days still make me nervous, even though I’ve known all these people for most of my life, I still feel anxious about who’s going to be in my class. Having only two real friends makes the odds of having a friend in my classes pretty slim.

Someone slips into the desk in front of me and turns around, her platinum blonde hair whipping across my face just slightly. I look up to see her staring at me and anxiety settles in my stomach.

“Hi!” Her tone of voice is unexpectedly perky, and her blindingly white smile is aimed at me. Brooke Brown. The quintessential it-girl since kindergarten. How do some people seem to be born popular and perfect? Is it genes? Wealth? There must be some secret to it that I’m not privy to.

“Uh, hi,” I squeak. I must be in the seat one of her friends was going to sit in, and she’s about to ask me to move. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Opal, right?” Her perfectly manicured eyebrows knit together above her shiny, brown eyes. Now that I’m seeing them up close, I notice they’re more of a hazel color actually.

I remember one time in seventh grade, she and a group of girls all snickered at me as I walked into the bathroom while they were doing their makeup. After I went into the stall I heard them whisper things like “what a freak,” and “hasn’t she ever heard of concealer?”

My opinion of Brooke hasn’t been super high since that incident. I wonder if she even remembers it.

“Yeah,” I nod.

“I’m Brooke,” she grins. “Just wanted to introduce myself.”

“Oh…” I’m confused and whiplashed by the interaction, and my heart is banging in my chest nervously. “Okay. Nice to meet you.”Nice to meet you?God, Opal, you sound like an elderly person.

Her smile stays in place. “We’ve never talked, but we should hang out sometime.”

Wasn’t expecting that.

Is my luck finally changing now that I’m in high school? My middle school days were rough, I was tormented constantly bybullies. They picked on me for every flaw they could possibly find. It didn’t help that I had my fair share of acne breakouts and unmanageable hair all three of those years. Now I’ve finally gotten a little bit better at making myself look presentable, thanks to some YouTube beauty tutorials and Mamaw agreeing to buy me a flat iron.

“Oh, okay. Sure.” I give her a tight smile, my cheeks heating up.

“Cool.” Her head tilts as she shoots me another smile, and then she twists around to face the front of the room.

She doesn’t say anything else to me for the rest of class.

Part of me can’t help but assume that was some kind of joke that I didn’t quite understand. But the other part is hoping that maybe, by some crazy twist of fate, high school will be different and I’ll finally get my chance to not be the weird kid.

It’s beena couple weeks now since school started. I'm running a little bit behind because our bus was late this morning. Brooke is already sitting in the seat ahead of me.

We’ve talked a few more times here and there since the first day. Always small talk, nothing memorable, but for some reason it still puts me on edge a little bit.

“Hi, friend!” She whispers, glancing back at me, her large, glossy lips pulled into a smirk.

“Hey,” I give her a weak smile. Maybe I’m being too judgy. She’s being nice, there’s no reason for me to be so wary of her. She’s never actually done anything to me personally, other than laugh behind my back, but in all honesty it seems like that’s something girls like her do to everyone.

She’s one of those popular people that might be considered controversial. A lot of people love her, but a lot of other people hate her. She’s the type who seems to stir up drama. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard. But what do I know?

“You’re Alex’s friend, right?”

Hearing the way Alex’s name passes over her lips makes me nervous. “Yeah, we’re neighbors.” That doesn’t really do a good job of describing our relationship, but for some reason it feels like the easiest way to explain it.

“Oh! You’resolucky. But like, you and him aren’t…together, right?” One of her eyebrows arches, and her lips curl into a slight frown. “I just see you two hanging out all the time, so I wondered.”

“No,” I shake my head, looking down at the papers on my desk.

She looks relieved, and for some reason that really bothers me. “I’m having a party this weekend, I was just gonna see if you’d like to come.”

“Oh,” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. “Um, okay. That’s nice, maybe I can, I’ll have to see what I’m doing.” It’s a lie, I have zero plans for the weekend, as per usual.

“Great! You should see if Alex wants to come, too. I mean, since you two are always hanging out anyway.”

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