I'd been attending South Park Elementary for two weeks before anyone noticed me. It wasn't because I was quiet, however because I didn't care enough to talk to anyone. I was excited when my father told me that we were moving to Colorado; the thought of living in New York for any longer drove my mind wild; I detested the city and just wanted to live in a small, snowy mountain town. It was nice, peaceful, serene; well, it was, at least.

The first time anyone noticed me was when I was instructed by my teacher to go down to the counselor's office to resolve some matters. My old institution failed to provide South Park with my information until after I had already enrolled. I knocked on the office's door.

"Come in, m'kay," A low, almost garbled voice instructed and I did.

I walked into the office to find an older man in green with a balding head and a peppy, youthful smile.

"I was told to come down," I said quietly, taking a seat in front of his desk.

"Yeah, um, on your transcript, it says your brother was um…." He stopped. This was normal. People were shifty around the subject.

"Killed," But, I wasn't. I wasn't scared or fazed. I was used to it.

"Yeah, um, killed, in the army."

I sighed. I just wanted to go back to class. My older brother died when I was six, so it wasn't that long ago, but he wasn't the first to die in my family; that was my mother. I just didn't want to have the same conversation as I've had many times over. I mourned him and my mother and still do but being reminded of it day after day wore my immune system into the grave.

"So, if there is anything you need to talk to me about just let me know or notify your teacher, m'kay," He said. He tried to be kind, so I wasn't rude to him. It wasn't his fault I heard this speech nearly every day of my life.

The conversation faded and I returned to class; there were only ten minutes left until recess, so I didn't bother to listen. Recess came and went just the same. I walked around, kept my head low, and avoided confrontation; from being here a few weeks, I could tell the few distinct groups; there were the girls who all huddled together as if they were trying to stay warm in a hurricane, there were the jocks, the nerds, the losers, and the Goths. I figured, out of all of them, I'd fit in with the losers, but I was a girl and all the losers looked to be boys. So, instead, I just walked in circles until I heard someone call out to me.

"Hey, new kid!" It was a boy's voice. I looked up, but was still slouched. It was snowing that day, so my hood kind of covered my face and probably made me look ominous or threatening which is why I was so shocked to hear someone talking to me.

He was blond, slightly shorter than the other boys with kind blue eyes. I think I saw one of the sixth graders beating him up the first day I arrived.

I cleared my throat from the phlegm; it was cold season and the first to go was always my voice.

"Hello?" I crept over to where he and the other losers stood.

"What's your game, new kid?" A boy wearing a red parka inquired.

"My… game?"

"He's asking why you moved here, what's your story," Another boy asked, this one wearing a browner red coat. After I didn't really reply, he asked, "Your name?"

"Em," I said. I wasn't usually shy, just nervous of new people; I'd been the victim of many traitors in my life.

"That's your name?" Blondie asked.

I nodded, "Yeah, its short for Emm-"

I was cut off by the bell.

"Well, it was nice meeting you all," I said and rushed off. The school day was mostly over and then I could go home.

Once school finally ended, I walked to my younger brother's kindergarten class and waited until they were let out. Once they were, we walked home together; we only lived a mile from the school so the walk wasn't horrendous as long as we took the path that avoided the older kids. I'd learned everything already about the sixth graders and how you shouldn't mess with them or, in general, be near them.

After we arrived home, I took him upstairs and set him up with his homework. Father usually arrived home from his new job at six and we usually got home at four; if we took the bus, we could get home much earlier, but I thought it was better to walk; I liked the cold and I was trying to teach Van the finer aspects of life at a young age.

After I knew Van understood the concept of the homework, I went to my own bedroom and pulled out my guitar; I always did my homework once everyone was asleep because I could focus better. I fiddled around on my guitar for a half hour until Van needed a snack. His snack time consisted of whatever I could conjure up in the cabinet or fridge. Today, I chopped up an apple for us to split and paired his half an apple with a quarter cup of porridge. We tried to eat healthy in our house, although I was the only one who would consider herself a vegetarian; I was told by my father to not mention it around Colorado because "people wouldn't understand." I wished to understand what that meant.

Father eventually returned home and I helped him cook dinner; after dinner, I went to my room and played video games for a few hours before completing my homework and going to bed. Tomorrow would be Friday, thankfully. This weekend would be amazing; I was getting to learn the general mapping of the area and was excited to venture down to Stark's Pond as well as checking out the local church to see what their beliefs were; I wasn't particularly religious, I just enjoyed community.

In the morning, I watched the news, did some yoga, and walked Van to school, however not before telling Father goodbye. Father worked nine to five, whereas we attended school seven to three. This was nice for him, because he got extra sleep while I cared for Van in the mornings. I didn't mind; unless he was sick, he was a low maintenance, kindhearted kid; he reminded me of mom in some ways.

At my old school, we would have a different teacher for each class, however here, I had the same one. His name was Mr. Garrison and he seemed somewhat… distressed, over the fact that he was a teacher. I don't think he enjoyed his job. Overall, however, he actually did know quite a deal of information. I enjoyed learning, somewhat, however it would've been nicer if he enjoyed his class more. Although, I think that could all be to blame on the kid in the red parka up front who talked to me yesterday. He would always interrupt; he was clearly an attention seeking, spoiled brat. It drove his friends insane, especially the kid in the orange jacket, who would always bicker with him.

"Mr. Garrison, Kyle is picking on meeeeeee!" Red Parka whined.

"Eric would you shut the hell up," Mr. Garrison uttered; I was surprised he cursed at a fourth grader, but kept my mouth shut; maybe that's just the way things worked around here…

So, at least for recess I know a few things now. Red Parka is Eric; Orange Jacket is Kyle; and I think I heard Blondie be called Butters but that seemed weird, so I won't say anything until it's confirmed.

One thing was for sure, today at recess would be interesting, nonetheless.