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What did I do wrong? Everyone is ignoring and being rude to me when they aren’t ignoring me. Even the teachers are giving weird looks. It’s kind of freaking me out a little bit; I will say. My best friend is blowing me off too. What’s up with people today? It’s like freaky Friday.
I know I don’t have anything on my face or on my clothes or on my shoes. And I know for a fact that I don’t have anything in my hair because it’s up in a messy bun.
This is so not my day. I know I haven’t done anything wrong, have I? I just want to go home. Thank god, it’s 4th period and then I get to go home. I normally don’t want to go home, but today I do. My home isn’t the best because I’m adopted. My birth parents didn’t want me and my adopted parents love me, sure, but they have their biological children so I’m chop liver every second I’m home. All I do is read and talk to my homies. Homies are before best friends.
My homies don’t go to my school, they are from a different town. My best friends go to my high school. Wait…they really aren’t my best friends but they call themselves my best friends so I just go along with it. I know I shouldn’t, it’s just easier that way. I don’t like my school but I only have like a year and half left. That’s counting the months of being in school, not summer break.
Yes, I’m a junior in high school so I have one and half years of school left then I can blow this popsicle stand.
“Miss. Heist?” I am pulled out of my thoughts by my teacher, Mr. Stanford. He teaches AP English 3.
“Yes?” I groaned.
Mr. Stanford runs a hand through his hair. He’s young like mid twenties, late twenties. He is tall, sure. Dirty blonde hair, sure. Tan, sure. Has glasses, sure. He’s hot, sure, but not my type.
“Your paper?” Mr. Stanford asked.
I roll my eyes at him. “I already turned in my paper. I was the first one here today, so my paper will be at the bottom of the pile.”
Not believing me he goes to the bin and looks for my paper. Sure enough he grabs my paper that was at the bottom of the bin.
He turns to look at me. “I am sorry, Miss. Heist.”
I lean back in my chair with my pencil in my mouth. “It’s cool, Mr. Hottie.”
I love it when that sends a visible shiver down his spine. It’s funny and satisfying to watch at the same time. Is that weird or something because sometimes I don’t know.
He goes back to teaching after that. I smile to myself because why not. It was funny to watch and it always makes me happy for no reason at all.
The final bell finally rang. I get out of my seat but before I leave Mr. Stanford’s room I stay back. I need to talk to him about extra work I can do. It’s not because of my grade, I have an A in this class, I like to do extra work on the weekends because I get to stay in my room or go to Suzie’s Cafe and I don’t have to feel left out at home.
I pull at the sleeves of my dark green sweater. “Mr. Stanford, do you have any extra work for me?”
Mr. Stanford looks at me. “You can read Romeo and Juliet and alternate the ending.”
I love to alternate endings. That is what most of my extra work is. The extra work isn't a grade or anything, it just gives me something to do. Mr. Stanford thinks I could be a play writer or a romance novelist. I don’t think my writing is the greatest but anytime someone reads my writing, people get very emotional. I like it ,just get, I don’t actually know.
“Sweet! Thanks Mr. Stanford.” I give him a smile.
He returns the smile. “No problem, Carson.”
I know I have a boy's name but Carson can go either way. So I have been told. For years kids have made fun of my name. They would say “that’s a boy's name” or ask “are you a boy”. When it happens now I just ignore it. I’m not a very social person so people are easy to block out.
I left Mr. Stanford’s room five minutes ago and I just remembered I have to walk home. Yay! Lucky me! Oh goody it’s raining now, just my luck. Me in the rain once again, my parents not caring if I come home wet. I’m living the dream.