This has been so much fun to write so far! Thank you all so much for your suggestions and encouragement! It means a lot to me. Here's page 3!
I leave the cafeteria, having eaten only a banana. I didn't touch the oatmeal, nor did I drink my milk, even though we are always encouraged to do so. I usually don't eat much, but today in particular, I had no appetite.
Striding through the halls, I stop by our dorm to pick up my school supplies. They consist of a battered notebook, a few pencils, one pen, and an over-used, blackened eraser. Carrying my things in one arm, I gazed out the window. Our dorm is on the fourth floor, so we're pretty high up. The yard is empty, as everyone is still eating breakfast.
Ready to go, I head down the long flights of stairs, outside, and to the small school building. It should only fit a class of 15 at the most, but we squish 30 in. Even then, everyone only gets an hour long lesson a day. With 300 kids aged 13-17, and only one teacher, it's the only way for us to learn.
I hope we have an english lesson today. I think. I despise our hour long math sessions, but I really enjoy English class, much to the disagreement of my peers.
"Good morning Ms.Bailey." I smile to my teacher, and she smiled back, her blue eyes sparkling. "Hello Ginger." I love Ms.Bailey, she's a kind teacher and we both share a love to read. She talks to me for a minute about The Hobbit, which I had read recently. "Yes, ma'am, I've finished it," I tell her, "And now I'm reading Charlotte's Web." Ms.Bailey grins, "Ah yes, you'll love it. A wonderful classic."
Now the rest of the class begins to shuffle in. When a dark-haired boy named Ben arrives, I groan under my breath. "Heh Heh," He sneers when he sees me chatting with Ms.Bailey, "Teacher's pet!" Unfortunately, My teacher has her head turned to scold two girls for carving their names into the desks. "Leave me alone!" I spat at Ben, glaring with irritation. "As you wish." He grins stupidly and drops himself into the desk beside mine.
I'm thrilled to learn that today we will be practicing descriptive writing. Several kids mumble and groan with dismay, but I sit straight up and smile.
We play a game we often use in english. You write a few sentences describing someone in the room, and everyone has to guess who you're describing. I choose Victoria, from my dorm, who happens to be in the same class as me. I glance up at her and back down at my paper every once and a while, and she notices, she blushes and smiles sheepishly at me. I wink.
When it is time to share our sentences, I stand. "The girl has long, dark hair, that cascades down her back like a waterfall." My teacher brightens at my use of a simile. "Freckles are sprinkled on her nose, and her mouth curves outwards in a slight smile." I continue, "She wears a snow-white blouse, and a jungle green skirt that makes her ocean blue eyes stand out like an orchid in a field of weeds."
The whole pauses for a moment, but then says all together, "Victoria!"
"Wow." Vicky murmurs. I know why she is so shocked by my words. I made her sound beautiful. Not that she isn't, but truthfully, her "jungle green skirt" is old and losing color, and the "snow white blouse" is just a t-shirt.
That's the magic of words. You can use them to change things, and make them appear differently. Maybe someday, I'll be an author. A fantasy blossoms in my mind. I'd secretly write a book, send it to publishers, and they'd say it was amazing. My book would be sold all over the world, and it would become so popular that I'd be famous. I'd be a millionaire overnight, and I'd leave the orphanage and move to a mansion. I'd have a whole library to myself, with every book ever-- My imagination is interrupted as Ben stands to share his description.
"This girl is skinny as a toothpick." He loudly tells the class, "And her eyes are the color of vomit."
"Ben!" Ms.Bailey shouts. But Ben continues, "Her hair is a choppy mess, and it's color belongs on a fire-hydrant." My heart stops. I know who he's talking about.
"Her name is dumb, it sounds like something you'd call a fat cat."
I can't stand it anymore. "AT LEAST MY PARENTS BOTHERED TO GIVE ME A NAME!" I scream. Everyone knows Ben was given his name by orphanage employees. His parents had given him up so quick they hadn't even named him.
"Well-Well..." Ben stutters, "I BET MY PARENTS COULD DRIVE!" He yells. My lip quivers. My parents had died together in a car accident before I was a year old. I run out of the classroom as fast as I can, fall to my knees on the porch steps, and cry. I sob uncontrollably. I'm vaguely aware of Ms.Bailey behind me. "Why are people so cruel?" I croak, salty tears streaming down my face.
Not the happiest page, sorry. Tell me what you thought in the comments.