The last few days had been a blur. It was a mix of moving boxes and carpet swatches. We moved into our new house. It was gigantic. I think of this as I walk into my first day of school. Sitting down in homeroom, I hear whispers all around me.
“Who does she think she is?!?!”, squealed a girl with ice blue eyes and blonde hair.
“Look at her outfit,” whispered another.

I mean, I know I’m not perfect. Sometimes, my golden brown hair can get frizzy. Or I can’t put on eyeliner in a perfect line with a wing. My eyes are sensitive, being blue.

By third period, I was tired of it. The whispers just didn’t go away and in my normally favorite class, somebody came up to me and asked, “ Uhh, Are you from this planet?”
Of course I didn’t reply, but it still fed the black hole in my body where the happiness used to go.

Even at lunch, nobody dared to sit next to me.



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All day I heard whispers of
“Eww, I’d never wear that” and “Ommmmigosh, look at her makeup”

I mean they were all flawless...

Most of the girls had wide eyes, slender noses, and high cheek bones. They all had Coach or Rebecca Minkoff handbags and Abercrombie jeans were considered “low-class”.



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I went home sad and distraught. I immediately ran to my room, sat on the floor and cried. My parents were in the study arguing about money, as they had done a lot these past few days.


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Finally, come dinner time, my mom noticed something was off. She came up to my room and knocked on the door.
“Honey, are you alright?! You’ve been in your room all night and I’m worried.”
“Well if being a complete failure in life is the definition of alright, then I am,”
“Oh don’t say that”, she walked into my room and sat down on the shag, purple carpet.
” You aren’t a failure.”
“ Hey, I know what would make you feel better,” she motioned towards the Mac Desktop computer in the front of my room.
“Why don’t you order some stuff online?,” she attempted.
I felt my eyes light up, “Just go easy, okay?”
“Of course,” I agreed.


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I didn’t go easy...


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A week later, all of my clothes had come in the mail, and my mom was kinda-angry... It was all worth it because I got to walk in school with style. This time all the whispers were about how fabulous I looked...I think...Or they could have been about my dramatic transformation? They all stared at my designer head-to-toe outfit: Tory Burch shoes, American Apparel jeans,and a Brandy Melville shirt. To be honest, I did feel more confident; its just that I felt that all the fancy clothes masked the black hole still building inside me. I liked the way I looked before, didn’t I?!
Confusion settled in my brain.


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That third week of school should have been the best week of my life, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was just building on top of my sadness. I got invited to a lunch table this week. I sat with a bunch of girls who were guilty of whispering about me that first day. The blond girl, Stacy, wasn’t actually that bad, if you think a gossiping, high-heel-wearing-fashionista is a good thing.
Our conversation consisted mainly of, “Omigosh, did you hear about the sale at..”
“Geez does this ever stop?,” I got up and stormed into the bathroom. I was just frustrated that they were always gossiping and talking fashion and stupid stuff, not caring if they failed science; their parents would just buy them out of it. I locked the stall and cried, I thought this private school would be a good thing. I sat there all through 10th and 11th period before I heard a small knock on the door.
“Umm, I don’t mean to bother you, but I noticed that you’ve been in here a long time. I was just wondering, Are you okay?,” She had a small frame and was petite. Her clothes were basic and she had a little, pointy nose.
“Uhh, yeah, I just had a rough day,” I replied.
“ Well, same. Um, do you want to go get out of here and get some coffee at the cafe?”
“Sure”

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And thats how it started.

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About a week later, we were friends. Something just clicked and we just instantly knew everything about each other. Little by little, the pieces of my life started to fall back into place. My mom and dad got over the fighting when I stopped spending so much money on clothes; Our family started to mesh a little better. Don’t get me wrong, we were a little bit broken, but improving. The girl from the bathroom,( I later learned her name was Layla), and I sat at lunch together. She introduced me to some nice girls who cared less about looks, and more about grades.

I guess the reason I am telling you this is not for entertainment. I just want you to know that you don’t have to fit in to be loved; even at your lowest, somebody cares. Popularity isn’t everything. Stay Strong.