Being the new kid has never been easy no matter where you are. Norma Calhoun knew that. It wasn't easy the first time nor the tenth time either. Eating breakfast and lunch alone was her specialty. Making friends and being social was not an option. You learn these things when it's crucial that you shield yourself against getting even more damaged. Packing your things yearly didn't sound as exciting as her mom made it out to be in the beginning. It was torture. It was nothing but pure torture.
Deep down Norma yearns this would be the last time they relocate thanks to her mother's wicked and life-ruining job. Her career as a Construction and Building Manager had Norma being yanked back and forth for years. She frequently portrayed herself as a rag doll. One that was being manipulated by her mother to her own demands and hopeful future intentions. They never stay in one place for more than twelve months at a time.
Francine Calhoun was successful. No doubt about that. Being a woman in a men's world demanded more exertion and overcompensation than most jobs. Norma knows how challenging it's been for her mother and how hard she strived to obtain the status she has today.
Norma thinks back on the very first day she stepped foot into White Pine Bay. How wretched and isolated it was. Almost as lonely as her. It was nothing compared to her old town in San Francisco. Oregon's ambiance was dull and cold. A vibrant but awful combination. The air dense and overwhelming. The sky hazy and the sun nowhere to be found.
How is it possible to go from sunny San Francisco to… this?
"You know I have no control over this, Louise," her mother had said. She hates when she calls her by her middle name. Her mother's tone always sharp but scolding.
"I just want to stay in one place for a change, ma," Norma whined. Fran lifts her gaze over her reading glasses, locking eyes with her daughter.
"Maybe this one is it, honey," she had stated, going back to her paperwork. "Maybe this one is it."
They both strongly aspire to stay and settle warmly into a cozy and gracious house they'll learn to call home.
"Where the hell is White Pine Bay anyway?" Norma had asked as she fixed her glasses. Her pointer finger and thumb grazing the metal of her glasses, adjusting their position. Her frail body inclining innocently against the door frame of her mother's studio, her arms crossed over her chest.
"Language," her mother scolded curtly without raising her gaze. Her eyes browsed gracefully the computer in front of her. "Right above us. Oregon," she finally responded.
But as Norma scans her outfit for her first day of Senior year on her full-length mirror, she doubts that White Pine Bay would be it. This town seemed outdated and monotonous. Not that she was very social herself, that was evident, but she really hopes that they won't force her mom to stay permanently at a place like this.
Although she doesn't have the best attitude about the circumstances, she tries her best not to complain too much. Nevertheless, this was her job, and her mother had no control over it. What Vincent says, goes. He's Francine's boss. A millionaire that moves them around the states as he pleases and what Norma hates the most is that her mother is not allowed to say no.
"Honey! Breakfast is ready!" her mom magically brings her back to earth. She takes a glance at the digital clock settled on her nightstand. 7:34 am. She has a little over thirty minutes to get to school. She rolls her eyes at her mother's perpetually impatience.
"I'll be down in a second!" she yells back.
Norma takes one last judgmental glimpse at herself. Khaki jeans. White polo. An olive green cardigan and black flats. Her attire screaming nerd in every form under the sun.
Looking back at herself she starts to question if things will be different this time around. She adjusts her glasses and runs a hand through her bangs. Her strawberry blonde hair is clipped back with a minute beige clamp. She looks like someone who spends ampere-hours in a library. She hates not having much sense of fashion or acknowledgment of the new and catchy trend.
As much as she tries to hide it, she can't conceal the need for human attention. It was a personal choice not to make friends, though. To not talk to anyone in a school that was only temporary to her. Walking through those crowded hallways alone was no big deal. She was fine alone. She couldn't make friends. She wouldn't dare. Why waste time making stimulating conversation with her classmates when their friendship already had an expiration date?
Without noticing it, her mother's career created this isolated Norma and not for the better. She often thought of many ways to accuse her mother. To scream at the top of her lungs how bad it's been for her. How alone she feels. But her mother was never oblivious to it.
"Are you making friends?" she had asked Norma over dinner. It was their first week in Nebraska.
"No."
Francine breathed. "Honey, I think-"
"Why bother? We're moving next year. Been there, done that. I'm not making that mistake again."
"You can at least try to have a social life. Be more outgoing."
Norma flashed her a harsh look. "More outgoing?" she parroted back to her dubious mother.
"Yes, Louise. Go out. Make friends! You're fifteen. You don't do anything else other than school and hideout at the library."
"I have homework to do and tests to study for," Norma responded confidently. "I don't have time to do anything else."
"I know, sweetheart. And I appreciate what you're doing to keep your grades up. I know it's hard to keep up with everything. Some schools are more advanced than others."
"You don't," Norma declared as she played with her food. "You don't know how hard it is."
Things were different now. She was older, it was her last year of high school, and she was still stuck in the same ball game. No friends. She wouldn't dare to make new ones or meet new people. She was still the same lame 'new girl' everywhere she goes, and she's still counting on Vincent to not ruin her life yet again at least until after graduation.
Homeschool seemed perfect for Norma. But for her mother? Not so much.
"I'm not getting you homeschooled, Norma," her mother had growled stubbornly.
"Why not!? It'd be the same thing I'm doing now. Just not going to an actual school. I won't stop studying, mom. You know that. Nothing would change! This way it'd be easier for both of us, don't you think?"
"I'm not isolating you from society on purpose," she snapped. "I'm not. So, you have to put up with it, and that is it. End of discussion."
She ran out of options and reasons to try to make her mother come to her senses. Nothing ever worked. It's like she wanted her to be friendless and an outcast on purpose.
And now, her stomach's in knots, unintendedly generating a greater pain, foolishly reminding her of her torture over and over again. She feels this way every time she's to step foot into a new school. Every time she walks into a classroom and all eyes are on her. Or when she walks into the always awfully crowded cafeteria. Or the gym. Or the hallway. Or the bathroom. Or the library, even.
But she plans to continue doing what she does best — flying under the radar. Not making eye contact with anyone and getting super early to her classes to avoid unfamiliar and uncanny looks from her now new and judgemental classmates. She would sit at the very back. It gives everyone a limited opportunity to criticize her. The desk at the very back. It always worked.
"You're going to be late, honey," Francine announces when she feels Norma's presence in the kitchen. The minute she looks at her, she does a double take. "You-you're wearing that?"
Norma, standing near the fridge, questioningly studies her outfit. "What's wrong with this?"
"Nothing, hun," she smiles politely. "You look perfect."
"Mom."
"I just-I thought you would wear one of those cute outfits we bought during the summer."
"I am," she points at her cardigan.
Fran gives her a knowing look. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah, no. I know what you mean," Norma responds smartly. "You want me to look less like me and more like the rest."
"That's not what I want, and you know that, Louise," Fran sighs, turning her back on Norma, her full attention back to the frying pan.
"I wish you would stop calling me Louise," Norma huffs, annoyed at her mother for criticizing her this early in the morning.
They eat in silence. Norma not up for small talk over breakfast with her mother. She's done this once too many times. Her infamous talk about how she should make friends on her first day of school. On how she should find someone to sit with at lunch. Norma wants to get this day over with. It already feels exhausting and longspun.
"I'm working late tonight," Francine breaks the ice. Norma just nods her head in response, her eyes fixed on her orange juice. "Be good, okay? Good luck today, kiddo."
Her mother stands, seizing her plate and reaching for Norma's. She roams around the table, scrutinizing her daughter's troubled expression. Her heart breaks for her. She plants a kiss on the crown of her daughter's head. If she could do something to fix this for her, she would.
"Do you need a ride?" she waits for Norma to respond. She's still standing next to her holding their dirty plates. Norma looks up at her mother with huge, sharp blue eyes that plead for escapism.
"I can walk. It's down the road," Norma says. Her tone of voice heavy and charged with nothing else than ample discouragement.
Francine nods. "Okay. I love you."
Norma allows herself to smile. "I love you too, mom."
Francine kisses her head again, walking back to the kitchen sink.
"I gotta go," her mom says. "Call me if you need anything."
"Yes, ma'am," she sighs, wishing she had other people to call and not only her mother.
Norma lets out a deep breath as soon as her mother walks out the front door. The alarm system indicating that the front door had been opened. She takes a look around at the mess her mother left behind and is quick to remove her cardigan to start cleaning. She hates a dirty kitchen.
After leaving the kitchen spotless, she gathers her stuff and is ready to head out and get this awful, nerve-racking day over with.