The New Girl

July 8, 2011
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She rapped her pencil against the desk, looking at the sea of students. Not one of them looked at her, cowards, she thought to herself.

"Roxanne, would you like to come up to the board?" Mr. Matthews asked, though she still hadn't learned his name, nor did she care to. She walked up to the white board, one thin, strong leg moving almost stealthily in front of the other, she examined the problem, and solved it in less than a minute. Roxanne turned around and saw everyone looking down at their desks, not one of them daring to look her in the eye. She chuckled quietly to herself and walked back to the desk. "This answer is correct," the teacher she deemed nameless said to the class. Of course it is, she thought to herself, feeling the left side of her mouth go up as she smirked.

Roxanne watched the clock intently, waiting for the dreadful class to end. Finally, the loud, annoying buzz indicating it was okay to go to lunch sounded. Starting a new school mid-year always sucks.

She packed up her stuff as quickly as she could, trying to beat the crowd to the cafeteria.

"Have a nice rest of your first day," Mr. math teacher called to her as she left his classroom.

"Don't count on it," Roxanne said loud enough for him to hear before she made her way through the crowded hallway. No one touched her as she weaved through students, she could hear the thud of her black leather boots hitting the floor. The opening and closing of the doors let in the cold winter air that nipped at Roxanne's bare ears, but she couldn't feel it. When she reached her destination she looked for an empty table, she found one and made her way there. She took of her winter black, leather jacket, but she was still warm in her gray turtleneck and blue jeans. From afar she looked like any normal student, her dark hair slicked back into a high ponytail, but as you got closer, you knew to turn away.

She watched the other kids as they packed themselves into small lunch tables rather than joining her and having enough room. Who needs them? She asked herself, though you could see the longing in her emerald green eyes as people walked past her. She barely touched the food that she had packed for herself, she just sat there, alone. Finally, one brave soldier approached her.

"Excuse me?" asked a stereotypical cheerleader.

"Yes?" Roxanne asked turning around to look at the girl.

"We were wondering if you could move to another table so we could all sit together?" She asked gesturing to her friends, a hopeful, perky smile on her face.

"Oh, so you want me to move so all of you can sit together, I get it." Roxanne turned around, returning to pushing her food across her plate. The cheerleader stood there looking confused. She had to be really brave, because her next move was a big mistake.

"Let me help you move your stuff," she offered reaching for Roxanne's purse.

"Move my stuff, and I'll move your spleen," Roxanne said, it was a threat, but her voice made it sound like a favor. The cheerleader left Roxanne's presence and brought her friends with her. Roxanne reached into her bag and got herself a book, returning to her solitude, but once again it was disrupted. A tall boy with brown hair and blue eyes sat in front of her; he was a cross between a geek, a skater, and a prep. His hair fell to his eyebrow line, and his lips were thin, but his blue eyes sparkled, and it intrigued Roxanne.

She stared at the boy as he started to eat his lunch, and he noticed her gaze.

"What? You sat at my table," he informed her while chewing. Roxanne continued to stare at him though. "Nice book, what is that, Twilight?" he asked, attempting to tease her.

"Nice hair, what is that, the Justin Bieber?" she lashed back.

"Touche," he said smiling at her. A faint smile touched her lips too. "So do you smell bad or something?" He asked with his mouth full.

"Excuse me?" Roxanne asked.

"It's just that you're sitting here alone and everyone is avoiding you like the plague," he said staring at the room.

"Okay," it sounded more like a question.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed," he asked in disbelief. Roxanne shrugged in response. "What's your name anyway?" he asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Roxanne," she answered simply.

"I'm Dylan," he told her, but he didn't reach out his hand to shake hers. They sat in silence for the rest of the lunch period. She stared at Dylan though, she was amazed how this one boy who never even seen her before in his life decided to sit with a stranger and speak with no limitations. No one else had even looked at her, unless you count the perky cheerleader, Roxanne didn't, because she was perky. A boy with clearly no social skills decided to sit with the girl who the rest of his peers deemed the anti-christ. He reminded her of herself, only if she were him, she probably wouldn't have sat with herself like the rest of them.

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