I finally had the courage to lift my head up when the bus came to a stop, and it seemed as if everyone stood at the same time. One after the other, the raffling riot made their way off the bus. Every now and then, one would politely let their peer go in front of them, Though I didn't have to worry about anyone doing that for me.

I was the last to get off the bus, and I followed behind the crowd into the school building, occasionaly catching glances at a teacher or student, then looking away in panic when their eyes met mine.

I didn't know why I had trouble with eye contact. Part of me believed it's that when I look at the eyes of someone, It's as if I really see them, and they really see me. Like I'm revealed, and judged, and expected to do something, to be more than I am.

There were probably a million more unexplainable reasons, but despite any reason, I couldn't help but look away.

"Good morning, Bella. How are you?"

I looked up in surprise to see one of my teachers, smiling politely at me. I didn't really know what to day, so I settled with a quiet "Good," and moved along awkwardly, until I reached my homeroom.

I sat in the middle of the room, then opened my journal and doodled around until the morning bell rang, and the teacher entered the loud, crowded jail cell of a room.

I didn't say a word throughout the rest of the class.