Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Leanne`s First Day

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
I dont know what I am anymore. Who I am anymore. Dont you ever feel like that? You`re in a surrounding with people who are of the same, look the same, and be the same. But when you`re someone else, who comes from another place. Starting their new beginning.. What can you do in the doubt?

My name is Leanne. I am from Africa, and have been taken into my new family. This country..It is bizarre. People stare, was it something on my face? Something..Something thar bugs them of how I look? I will admit, I do have flaws. My hair is very curly, my nose is slightly widened.. But that`s it. Other than that, I think I look just fine. We all have flaws, most cant admit it because...some stride for perfection and I know they think theyre perfecting their "Image", but I just think they`re covering up their features with a mask of powder.
Im getting off track...where was I? Oh yes! My new family, they`re lovely to me and accept me. I was nervous when I met them, but things worked out. I love them. And I hope they love me back, Ive never experienced love, until I met Mr. and Mrs. Roshetti. But they insist that I get comfortable and call them my Mother and Father. They think it`s a good way to connect and learn to get to know them better.

They sent me to my new school today "Pride of Ladies Academy", a Catholic school, some might call it. I however, am not into their religion and do not intend on learning their ways. I know I am new, but I keep my faith, and keep my beliefs.
They all looked alike, maybe it was the uniforms that we were all wearing but it was something else. I couldnt put my finger on it.

Math class approached, and I was introduced to the class by the principal and was alone. Our math teacher, Mr.Mason, beckoned me to come forth infront of the class.
"Please, Leanne. Tell us where you`re from," he said. Though he didnt ask with enthusiasm of any kind. Like he was compelled to ask. So I answered.
"I am from Africa. I live with Mr and Mrs. Roshetti at their home, they are my new parents. I love them." I smiled, because I was proud of what I said. They didnt seem to agree. Most girls and some boys threw paper balls at my head telling me to get out and I made them bored!
A boy raised his hand. "Mr.Mason, if this colored girl is going to talk on and on, may I be excused?" the whole class laughed. And began to chant, get out! Get out! Very clear and in the same tone.
My chin quivered and I wiped the tears that flooded my eyes.
Mr.Mason stepped forward with the meter stick in his hand. "That`s enough! LISTEN UP!" He then smacked the ruler on the desk and silenced the class! And I went to the nearest empty desk I could find.
"She is new..She is bright..She has never been to a school like ours, if you children are going to disrespect her, you might as well all be suspended. Jesus is watching over your sins, do not sin! Accept her! She may be colored, but she is a fine young lady!" He spat at all of them and tossed the meter stick aside with rage!
Jesus..Sins..Colored? Do I have pen on my face?

After class, I went to the girls bathroom to check my face. No pen. No marker of any kind. Not that I could see. All I saw was a deep dark lovely chocolate brown skin, and ginger colored eyes that looked back at me in the reflection that was me. I looked nice today. What is wrong with me?
A girl then walked in and her eyes were popping out when she saw me!
"Ew! Who let you in?" she pointed at me in disgust!
"Why is everyone looking at me like I have something on my face?" I asked her, touching my face again.
"You do have something on your face.." she said to me, sniffling through her drippy nose.
I was stunned! There was something!
"What is it? What`s on my face?" I began to touch all over me! My cheeks, neck, eyes, everywhere!
Then she answered..."Black."



Join the Discussion

This article has 1 comment. Post your own now!

Clairemaims said...
May 8, 2010 at 6:50 pm
Wow so sad and yet at the same time so motivating.
 
Site Feedback