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Forsaken
Time passes slowly for me, here in this classroom. I look around and see the smiling and laughing faces of my classmates and I feel my insides warm a little, though I am excluded from them. They never turn to me to ask a question, or to tell a joke or even to just send their exultant smiles in my direction; to them, I donā€™t exist anymore. The bell rings and my classmates gather up their things, and leave; soon I am the only one in the room. I glance out the window of the second story classroom, watching the myriad of leaves ever so slowly to the moist grass below. Itā€™s autumn and although the leaves change and the smell of pumpkin pie saturates the air, I canā€™t help but feel a shy sort of animosity towards the most intoxicating of seasons. Slowly I get up, smoothing my wrinkled plaid uniform skirt and straightening my black blazer all the while staring out the window, watching the congregation of students swarm out the front door of the school. I watch them, wishing that just for once I could join in their camaraderie instead of being on the outskirts of it all. I watch them for a bit longer, and then ignoring the way my heart screams out for me to join them, I pull the strap of my backpack over my shoulder. I could stare at the joyous scene below me forever, but no matter how much I wish to be down there nothing will change- not now, not until I leave this town.
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Iā€™m running across a rainbow colored field, the sun on my back and the wind caressing my pale skin. I smile when my fiery hair blows across my face obscuring my vision. This is my happy place, a place where there is no darkness, where there is no hate; a place where I exist alone and donā€™t feel lonely. I slow down, out of breath and collapse onto a soft inviting patch of grass, a soft yellow flower tickling my ear. The sky is a wonderful shade of the lightest blue, with sparse cottony looking clouds here and there. Birds fly overhead, and their songs seem to resonate with happiness. I sit up and look around the empty field. Itā€™s so peaceful, the only place where Iā€™m at peace- the only place the silence doesnā€™t echo in my ears.
Then something changes in the air, and my hazel eyes widen in surprise as I see a figure in the distance. The figure is tall and lithe, and though it is too far, I can still make out the color of its hair- a strange mix between copper and gold. As I strain my eyes, the birdā€™s songs stop and the sky fades until it is stark white; the sun brightens till I cannot see anymore and then itā€™s all gone. My fantasy world disappeared, I along with it- back to the harsh reality of my life.

My eyes shoot open and the bright light stuns me for a second; itā€™s morning. My room is dead silent, not even my frog shaped radio clock making a sound. I turn to look at the time and sigh; itā€™s that time of day when itā€™s too early to be awake, yet too late to go back to sleep. Groaning softly, I untangle myself from the warmth of my yellow comforter and wade across the debris that has forever littered my bedroom floor. Careful not to trip over the various books and shoes that litter my floor like stumps in a wood, I make my way to my closet; I pull out my carefully ironed uniform, then I grab my undergarments and change, not caring that Iā€™ll be early to school; it wonā€™t have been the first time. ________________________________________
I walk down the hallway of my school and scowl slightly at the dusty floor; if it were up to me the floors would never be this dusty. Itā€™s unsightly. I turn at the corner and make my way to the library, the closest thing I have to a favorite place in the world. My schoolā€™s library is grandiose, with bookshelf upon bookshelf and not a computer in sight; a plus that keeps people away. I drop my bag onto a nearby chair and begin to wander amidst the rows of slightly dusty tomes. The library is not anyoneā€™s favorite place, the majority of my classmates despairing when my English teacher announces a book report. For them school is not a place to expand your horizons, it is a place to socialize; a place where they can gossip, a place where who you hang out with is of utter importance.
I catch sight of a brilliant red spine and reach for it on an impulse. I donā€™t abide by the saying ā€˜you canā€™t judge a book by its coverā€™, because to me the cover is the best part- the prelude to the wonderful text within; I scowl when my fingers barely brush the bottom of the spine. At less than five feet, itā€™s only natural that I canā€™t reach the top shelf of a six foot bookshelf, but I canā€™t bring myself to control my irritation. Just as I reach for it again, a slightly tanned hand shoots out and grasps the spine. I turn around and look at the owner of the hand, eyes widening slightly as I catch sight of him. He towers over me, large hand holding out the surprisingly wide book. I look farther up and examine his face which is also tanned and I suppress the urge to gasp when I see the color of his hair- that strange mix of copper with gold. His eyes are kind, a gentle, calming green; his lips medium sized and plump. When he looks at me with a questioning glance, I reign in my mischievous eyes; itā€™s not polite to stare at others.
ā€œHere, this is the one you wantedā€¦ right?ā€ He hands me the book and I grunt slightly under its heavy weight. How could he have held it with only one hand? I adjust it so that Iā€™m holding it to my chest and nod to him.
ā€œThank you.ā€ My voice is barely above a whisper and Iā€™m not sure that he heard me, but when he smiles in return my heart skips a beat; itā€™s been so long since anyone acknowledged me, much less sent a smile in my direction. He must be a newcomer.
ā€œAre you new here?ā€ I scowl internally as my voice wavers; I canā€™t afford this conversation- itā€™s too risky if heā€™s seen with me. Then it comes to me; weā€™re in the library, no way will someone notice him talking to me. Even if it is only this one time, I want to have a conversation with this kind stranger; I want to have one pleasant memory of high school.
ā€œYeah, I just moved here from Sacramento.ā€ An easy smile appears on his face, so brilliant that I couldā€™ve melted, had I been inclined to do so. I beam back at him as the bell rings; hurriedly he checks his watch and with a wave heā€™s gone, along with my hope of ever talking to him again. Once he gets into a class, with his easy smile and kind disposition, he will become like all the others when it comes to me- not cold, just indifferent ā€“ so depressingly indifferent.
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I sit in my usual seat in the back of the room staring out the window again, knowing that the teacher will not rebuke me for it. The indifference everyone has towards me spreads even to the teachers. Just as I follow the path of a fiery leaf with my eyes, I hear him.
ā€œHello my name is Andrew Blanc; I just moved here from Sacramento.ā€ His voice is easy with a slightly nervous edge; when I look up I notice that heā€™s staring directly at me. To my utter horror so is the rest of the class. He smiles when I nod slightly to him a risky move- I know, but I canā€™t help but welcome the small bit of attention. I know that itā€™ll end soon- once they explain the rules to him, he wonā€™t ever glance in my direction ever again. I sigh inwardly as the teacher sends him to the empty desk in front of mine. Portia, who used to be my friend, leans over to whisper something in his ear. I watch as he stiffens and a shiver passes through my entire being, as the words she whispers sink in. My eyes widen when he turns around to stare me in the eye, something completely unprecedented; after newcomers hear what happened they promptly ignore me.
ā€œW-what do you want?ā€ Everyoneā€™s gaze is on us, anticipating my imminent humiliation.
ā€œI want to know if what that girl said is true.ā€ Surprise jumps onto my classmatesā€™ face; no one bothered asking me my side of the story. No one wanted to think that maybe, just maybe things didnā€™t happen the way that everyone said they had.
ā€œIā€™ll tell you lat-ā€œ Abruptly he stands up and grabs me by the arm, dragging me along with him as he exits the class; twenty two pairs of eyes follow us as the door slams shut.
He drags me down the hall, his grip surprisingly strong and his pace making me trip over my feet. Before I know it we are standing in the back row of the library which seems to be completely devoid of life; not even the librarian stays here when classes are going on. I look anxiously at the door- the class probably thinks he took me so that he could show me what he thought of me. It wouldnā€™t have been the first time; after all, Iā€™ve had two broken arms and countless bruises to prove it.
ā€œYou shouldnā€™t be here. If they catch youā€¦ well youā€™ll get in trouble.ā€ I look pointedly at the door for emphasis. It wonā€™t matter if they catch me here- though they are cruel to me, with their indifference and their fists, they leave me be when Iā€™m in the library, among the only other outcasts in the school.
ā€œI donā€™t care; I want to hear your side of the story. No way am I going to just go along with what other people are saying; thatā€™s how I was raised.ā€ He looks at me and then sinks down so that he sits on the floor with his back resting on the shelf. I sigh, wondering how I got involved with such a persistent person; then again, itā€™s better than not being involved with anyone at all.
ā€œAnd if I said I didnā€™t want to talk about it?ā€
My voice is almost a whisper as I fight off the ghost of my past, which is always there- surviving on the dark muse that lurks on the edge of my mind. I look down at him, and watch as his expression changes a bit. Now he is smiling, as though he is thrilled by the prospect of a challenge. I exhale and then settle in next to him. I donā€™t know why, but for some reason I feel compelled to tell him, even though I know that the moment he hears the truth heā€™ll be running for the hills with the rest of them. Maybe I just donā€™t want this person to suffer along with me.
ā€œIt wasnā€™t always like this; I used to have friends. In fact I was friends with one of the most popular girls in

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