The War Between Us : Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

“Hey- you’re the new kid, aren’t you?”

I stifle a groan. I’ve been called ‘New Kid’ ever so many times today, I feel like I’ve been temporarily labeled – until I’m permanently labeled into a geek, a nerd, a Goth, a Popular (not likely) or whatever, that is.

I turn to the girl who just slid in next to me at this empty table lunch I’m sitting at.
A boy slides in next to me on my other side suddenly, too.

He grins at me very cheekily – and I turn my head to the girl again, as she snorts impatiently.

“Oh, come on, Jerry – she’s so not gonna fall for your geeky grin”, she says, tossing her wildly curly, red hair back, dipping her fork into the pasta in a bowl on the tray she had brought with her.

I turn to look at the boy again as his grin wipes off his face and he goes scowling, “Shut up, Liv. I was just trying to be friendly”.

I raise my hand to rub my neck after cricking it so many times as the brown-haired boy smiles at me again.

I smile back, and he says, “I’m Jerry. Jerry Bentley. You?”

He raises his dark eyebrows at me.
I grin inwardly and I reply jokingly, “It’s New Kid”.

He laughs openly and admittedly, I could see the girl beside me smiling slightly into her pasta – which is the very same color as her hair.
I continue smilingly, “Cindy. Cindy Varde”.

”Well, Cindy, I’m Olivie Lavigne – and we’re gonna show you the ropes around here, Chelsea Heights High”, the red-head says matter-of-factly and I look at her, not knowing what to say.

I say – very foolishly, I might add – “Uh, you are?”

And she goes, “Mm-hmm”, nodding into the bowl of pasta.

“I think you’re in my homeroom,” Jerry says, digging into his steaming vegetable dumpling, “You are, right?”

I take a bite of my hamburger before replying.

“I think.”

He continues – very valiantly, I might add, since, you know; who’d want to have a conversation with a freak like me? – “So, where’re you from, Cindy?”

I answer, as the girl, Olivie, leans forward slightly to listen in to our conversation more.

“New York City” I answer promptly.

Olivie’s eyes widen – I notice – and she goes, “Oh. No wonder.”

I feared I insulted them or something when the red-haired girl said that. “Um, did I say something wrong?”

She says, shaking her head, “Oh, no. It’s just that – you have that ‘air’ about you. You know. Like you can control people. All New Yorkers have that type of behavior”.

I was my turn to widen my eyes when she said that.
Me – control people?

I laugh, kind of shocked that she’d think something like that, “Woah – I’m totally not one for controlling”
Jerry says, rather grimly, “Yeah, of course. When I saw you – I instantly knew you weren’t like that”.

Woah – this guy is hitting on me hard. Funny – I’m not awesome. Well, maybe on the outside – but not on the inside.

I smile quietly as Olivie sitting on the other side, scoffs and goes, “Oh, stop sucking up to her, Jer!”

And they start bickering, as I munch into my second burger.
I think they’ve done this a lot – they seem to be experienced and filled with retorts for what the other was saying.

I look around the cafeteria – I spotted the Populars table.

Obviously, there must be some sort of leader there.
You know, like Ashley O’Connell.

That lunch table is mostly crowded with jocks and cheerleaders.
Really – are cheerleaders and jocks just meant to hang out together and rule over the other lowly members of a school like they were meant to do?

But hey – I’m not complaining.
It’s a good thing none of them came up to me, though – and asked me to join their table – because I would have flatly refused, and I do not want to make enemies on the first day of school.

This happened the first time I joined Stuyvesant High. Ashley came up to me, sashaying all the way, and went all snottily, “Hey, you wanna sit with us?”
And I totally told her to back off. And since then, she’s hated my guts all the way.
But I don’t care.
Since, you know, she was only asking me to sit with her because I was pretty.

Yes, I know, I’m admitting it. That I’m pretty, that is. I’ve never considered it myself, I’ve just been told it many times. But I’m not boasting, by the way.
It’s true.

Yes - I have dark hair which curls just right over my shoulders, a perky nose, a slender figure – just fit for a cheerleader’s body – and beautiful dark green eyes. No, I don’t wear contacts.
I’m born that way – although, sometimes, I think the color of my eyes is just plain black – not outrageously green.

So, I’m gorgeous. That doesn’t change the person inside me, does it?
No, it doesn’t.
I’m me – totally illusive.

I don’t like to show off, the way those so-called sexist cheerleaders do.
I like to hide myself. I don’t need publicity.
Who does, really?

I’m broken out of my musings when I realize Olivie and Jerry had stopped arguing – since Olivie tells me something rather heatedly.
I don’t hear her properly though.

“Um, what?”

She glares at me – rather rudely, I must say, since I am, after all, a new kid and I need to be made felt at home instead of having a death glare shot at me – and she says again, “Can we go and show you the place now – before the bell rings signaling the next dumb period?”

“Oh, sure – okay”, I smile as I stand up.

I think I can safely say that I’ve met some ‘friends’ here.
But if I’m wrong – I’m not worrying, I have plenty of time to get real friends.

I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon, so, why worry?