She wakes up tired, because she couldn't sleep last night. The little time she had it, dreams flooded her head of her daily life. She gets up and gets ready. . . slowly. . . not wanting to move on to the rest of the day. But she has to.
She gets in the car. Her mother asks her how she slept and she says fine. The silence gets thick, so she turns on the music.
They reach the building, say goodbye, and she climbs out. She tries to ignore the critical looks that follow her to the doors. She steps inside, met by more looks. She goes to class and finds a seat. The other girls walk in, see her, and look away. They can't risk their reputations with each other by showing any interest in her other than gossip. She looks down, letting the locks of hair fall in front of her eyes, not wanting to see the slow moving world around her. She hears the guys next to her snicker, and she regrets glancing up, because she finds that she is their joke. The lesson starts, but doesn't help ease the tension. She doesn't belong there, and she knows it. After the lesson all she wants is to get out of there. She gathers her things and heads for the door. . . the next thing she knows, she's sitting on the floor, her things scattered. Teasing laughter fills the room as she looks up, stunned, at the closed door. She feels like crying, but she can't give them that satisfaction. Once again, she gathers her belongings, then hurries out. The rest of the day passes even slower as word of her crash spreads.
Once in a while she meets up with some who don't really mind talking to her, but the difference between them is too much to ignore, and one of them has to find an excuse to walk away.
Lunch is spent alone again.
Finally, the day is over. Her mother finally arrives. She gets in the car and glances once more towards those girls, towards a life she's never known. Her mother asks how her day was and she says fine.
Her mother makes dinner that night, but the family eats separately. She sits by herself, making herself eat so her parents won't question her.
She washes her face and looks at herself in the mirror. She frowns and thinks if she were only prettier, she might have friends.
She goes to bed, but is scared to close her eyes. She doesn't want to face the dreams of her day, and she know sleeping will only make tomorrow come sooner. She can't close her eyes. . .
She hears her parents talking in the other room. . . about her. They're concerned, and she doesn't want to hear this. She has to close her eyes. . .
Tomorrow came only too soon.