The girl

This morning I looked in the mirror and thought, “Hmm, hair needs a little combing.” But other than that, I was satisfied. My cheeks were unusually red from sleep, but the rest of my face was the same as it had ever been. The small sharp nose, the tight tucked chin, and the crisp mouth, were all immutable results of my parents’ unification.

As I was walking to school, I saw a cheerless girl walking not far from me. What a disgusting creature she was. This girl was well known in our school for being the class geek. She was always afraid to talk to people, and her glasses were not only too thick, but also round enough to hide her already tiny eyes behind them. Her pants, cut too short for her legs, revealed a blur of old sneakers. “Why did she always walk so fast?” I wondered, watching her lopsided ponytail thump limply on her back. The sight of her was too repulsive to maintain any longer. I picked up my pace and walked on.

When I reached school, I realized that we were to get our math tests back today. Gripped with anticipation, I found the way to my seat. I saw the girl walk in and sit down, with an almost imperceptive smile on her face. The nerd must’ve known she did well, I figured.

To my surprise, I was wrong. When the exam landed in her hands, her usually squinty eyes opened wide in shock, and a moment later, was covered by a film of liquid. “What a wimp,” I thought in pity. I hadn’t done too hot myself, but I wasn’t going to cry over it.

A few girls on my right were snickering and gloating at the girl’s unhappy grade. I remembered them picking on her before. They had been in the hallway jabbering about boys (what else?), and pointed at the girl, whispering, “Her? No way. No one in their right mind would consider a loser like her.” What a mean thing to say, I thought, even though it may have been true. Those girls lacked respect. But then again, I wasn’t going to approach them and make a fool of myself.

During lunch, I picked a nice round table to sit. It was my favorite time of the day. The food may not have been great, but hey, it was better than what I could do. I saw the girl sitting by herself. She seemed uneasy when a few acquaintances joined her table. She did not know when to speak, when to laugh, and when to keep silent. Her awkward attempts to join the conversation were interspersed with the bad habit of biting her lips. “What social ineptness,” I thought.

A sudden “Will you go?” awakened me from my meandering mind. I looked up at a warm smiling face. Embarrassed that I had not heard what he asked, I bit my lip trying to remember. “Um, sure,” I answered hesitantly.

“Great!” His face lit up. “I’ll come by around six then?” It suddenly hit me that he was referring to the dance tonight. I replied meekly, “okay.”

I went home in a strangely happy mood. It was certainly flattering, if nothing else, to be asked to a dance. I walked to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Yep. There’s that pitiful girl once again. She opened her contacts case and took off her glasses. She had a long white dress for the occasion. As her fingers slowly pulled out the hair band holding up her lopsided ponytail, she winked at me in the mirror. As she ran her hands through her hair, she thought, “Hmm, needs a little combing.” But other than that, she was satisfied.