Disclaimer: I own nothing. The end.
*
School, as expected, was nothing out of the ordinary. The building was filled with the same indescribably new-school-year atmosphere that it always was on the first day, and already the social world was off to a blazing start. Students were milling around everywhere, talking to friends they hadn't seen for months and sharing disappointment over the end of break. Through all the hubbub and clogged hallways, I was able to easily find my usual "crowd." It pained me sometimes to think I allowed myself to be restricted to such a small group of people, but on the other hand, it felt more right than anything else. We all had something very important in common, and strangely enough, that made true friendship almost unnecessary. To say our group dynamic was unconventional was an understatement.
"Agh! Jen!"
Feeling a sudden weight on my back, I spun around. Who I found behind me put a smile on my face. "Kir!" I exclaimed, hugging her as tightly as possible. Kirsten was one of the few of the group who I actually did like, and could say I was friends with without lying through my teeth. I let go, but my smile stayed; I hadn't seen Kirsten in seemingly forever and couldn't wait to do some catching up with her.
Unfortunately, the warning bell chose that very moment to ring. Quickly we compared schedules, and, upon learning that we shared a grand total of zero classes, we sulked off to our respective homerooms. The year, it seemed, was going to be very long.
*
All my initial drama over having no classes with Kirsten gradually disappeared as I discovered things weren't so bad. I had at least one "friend" in each class so far, and judging by the way things had always gone in the past, we'd stick together and keep each other company no matter what. In fact, I absolutely despised my only "friend" in English, and I knew she absolutely despised me, as well, but we got along just fine for the hour or so we spent talking. It was funny how those things worked out. Or rather, how we forced them to work out.
I was relieved to find Kirsten and I were in the same lunch shift; it was, after all, more social hour than anything else. I searched out our usual table, then squeezed between Kirsten and another girl, Shelly, to take a seat. Before I even had the chance to get settled down and unpack my lunch, Kirsten elbowed me. She obviously had something of utmost importance to tell me; rarely did she use the elbow, unless what she had to get out was a) life threatening, b) social-life threatening, or c) tip-top secret. It was usually b), on occasion c), and maybe once, ever, was it a). I waited until I was totally seated, sandwich unwrapped and sitting patiently on its baggy, until I elbowed Kirsten back. That was my signal for the floodgates of her mouth to open and spill what had to be spilled.
"There's a new kid here, y'know," Kirsten said almost nonchalantly, and I squinted my eyes in confusion.
"You sound so calm," I observed, though I understood why. We went to a fairly large school; new kids coming in were borderline novelty, but not novelty enough to warrant lunch talk. And especially not enough for the elbow. "But why the urgent need to tell me?"
"He's a transfer. We seem to be gaining a reputation here," explained Kirsten. She looked down the table, counting silently how many of our group were with us. "I mean, look. Six of us in this shift alone; and what, some five must be split between the other two shifts?"
I shrugged. "So?"
"So? Would you send your child to a school without any others like him? Or would you send him here, where he'll fit right in to this nice little niche and feel at home? It's all logic, Jen." Kirsten took a bite of the yogurt she'd brought, then smiled. "I like the piercing you've got there, by the way," she said, motioning her spoon towards my ear.
I reflexively reached up and toyed with the hoop on the top of my right ear. "Yeah, snazzy, huh? Dad's been on assignment in the lab, so he sent me the latest--oh, crap!"
"Uh, Jen? I think you're falling apart there."
"Thank you, Kirsten, I think I realize that." I held the top of my ear while frantically looking down the table. "Prosthetic glue, anyone? Anyone?" I gave a nervous laugh as some ignored me, others snorted, and yet others--those covering the paranoid contingent of the group--started swearing and going through their bags. Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"This might help," I heard a male voice say, and leaning my head backwards, I was shocked to see the voice's owner standing right behind me, holding out a small tube of glue. I took the tube and gave my best "I'm somewhat screwed at the moment, but I'll get back to you in a jiffy" smile, then ran off to the restroom to repair the problem.
When I made it in, I did a quick sweep to make sure no one was in the room with me. Seemed like the coast was clear, so I stepped up to the mirror and titled my head to see better, inspecting the faulty covering. It was still holding on by maybe a droplet of glue, so I carefully disconnected it and checked my ear in the mirror. Unaltered, and as I preferred it to be: free of fake prosthetics and an instant giveaway of my heritage. I traced my finger along the edge of it, happy to feel it suddenly sharpen at the end, then sighed as I opened the tube and began applying fresh glue. As exciting as it was to be one of the few elves living among humans in the world, I had to go and hide it. I scoffed as I placed the covering over my point. My ancestors would have never gone through something like that to pretend they were something else; in fact, they had too much pride to even consider doing such a thing. But of course, as my mother reminded me time after time, humans can't even love those of their own race. Who knew how they'd react if they found out that another race inhabited their beloved planet along with them?
I did a once over to make sure everything was intact, then headed back to the lunchroom, and to my little clan of elves all stuck in the same situation. I don't know how many of us would have voluntarily chosen to live life like this, in secrecy and worry, but it didn't matter much at the time, anyway. What our parents had chosen was set, and for their decisions, this was the way we lived.
I took my seat again next to Kirsten, setting the tube down on the table and fidgeting with it. Kirsten quickly inspected my work, asking, "Better?"
I nodded, and glanced around the lunchroom to find the guy who'd been so kind to lend me his glue. I was guessing he was the new kid Kirsten had been talking about earlier, and was actually halfway interested in meeting him.
"If you're looking for me, I'm sitting right across from you."
I raised an eyebrow and turned to face the guy sitting in front of me as naturally as possible. I smiled sheepishly and slid the tube in front of him. "That would be yours, I believe."
He pocketed the tube and returned the smile, though his had no trace of embarrassment. Rather, it was kind of bright. And nice. "I'm Joey."
"Jenna."
And that was the beginning of the end of the most deceivingly normal time of my life.
*
School, as expected, was nothing out of the ordinary. The building was filled with the same indescribably new-school-year atmosphere that it always was on the first day, and already the social world was off to a blazing start. Students were milling around everywhere, talking to friends they hadn't seen for months and sharing disappointment over the end of break. Through all the hubbub and clogged hallways, I was able to easily find my usual "crowd." It pained me sometimes to think I allowed myself to be restricted to such a small group of people, but on the other hand, it felt more right than anything else. We all had something very important in common, and strangely enough, that made true friendship almost unnecessary. To say our group dynamic was unconventional was an understatement.
"Agh! Jen!"
Feeling a sudden weight on my back, I spun around. Who I found behind me put a smile on my face. "Kir!" I exclaimed, hugging her as tightly as possible. Kirsten was one of the few of the group who I actually did like, and could say I was friends with without lying through my teeth. I let go, but my smile stayed; I hadn't seen Kirsten in seemingly forever and couldn't wait to do some catching up with her.
Unfortunately, the warning bell chose that very moment to ring. Quickly we compared schedules, and, upon learning that we shared a grand total of zero classes, we sulked off to our respective homerooms. The year, it seemed, was going to be very long.
*
All my initial drama over having no classes with Kirsten gradually disappeared as I discovered things weren't so bad. I had at least one "friend" in each class so far, and judging by the way things had always gone in the past, we'd stick together and keep each other company no matter what. In fact, I absolutely despised my only "friend" in English, and I knew she absolutely despised me, as well, but we got along just fine for the hour or so we spent talking. It was funny how those things worked out. Or rather, how we forced them to work out.
I was relieved to find Kirsten and I were in the same lunch shift; it was, after all, more social hour than anything else. I searched out our usual table, then squeezed between Kirsten and another girl, Shelly, to take a seat. Before I even had the chance to get settled down and unpack my lunch, Kirsten elbowed me. She obviously had something of utmost importance to tell me; rarely did she use the elbow, unless what she had to get out was a) life threatening, b) social-life threatening, or c) tip-top secret. It was usually b), on occasion c), and maybe once, ever, was it a). I waited until I was totally seated, sandwich unwrapped and sitting patiently on its baggy, until I elbowed Kirsten back. That was my signal for the floodgates of her mouth to open and spill what had to be spilled.
"There's a new kid here, y'know," Kirsten said almost nonchalantly, and I squinted my eyes in confusion.
"You sound so calm," I observed, though I understood why. We went to a fairly large school; new kids coming in were borderline novelty, but not novelty enough to warrant lunch talk. And especially not enough for the elbow. "But why the urgent need to tell me?"
"He's a transfer. We seem to be gaining a reputation here," explained Kirsten. She looked down the table, counting silently how many of our group were with us. "I mean, look. Six of us in this shift alone; and what, some five must be split between the other two shifts?"
I shrugged. "So?"
"So? Would you send your child to a school without any others like him? Or would you send him here, where he'll fit right in to this nice little niche and feel at home? It's all logic, Jen." Kirsten took a bite of the yogurt she'd brought, then smiled. "I like the piercing you've got there, by the way," she said, motioning her spoon towards my ear.
I reflexively reached up and toyed with the hoop on the top of my right ear. "Yeah, snazzy, huh? Dad's been on assignment in the lab, so he sent me the latest--oh, crap!"
"Uh, Jen? I think you're falling apart there."
"Thank you, Kirsten, I think I realize that." I held the top of my ear while frantically looking down the table. "Prosthetic glue, anyone? Anyone?" I gave a nervous laugh as some ignored me, others snorted, and yet others--those covering the paranoid contingent of the group--started swearing and going through their bags. Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"This might help," I heard a male voice say, and leaning my head backwards, I was shocked to see the voice's owner standing right behind me, holding out a small tube of glue. I took the tube and gave my best "I'm somewhat screwed at the moment, but I'll get back to you in a jiffy" smile, then ran off to the restroom to repair the problem.
When I made it in, I did a quick sweep to make sure no one was in the room with me. Seemed like the coast was clear, so I stepped up to the mirror and titled my head to see better, inspecting the faulty covering. It was still holding on by maybe a droplet of glue, so I carefully disconnected it and checked my ear in the mirror. Unaltered, and as I preferred it to be: free of fake prosthetics and an instant giveaway of my heritage. I traced my finger along the edge of it, happy to feel it suddenly sharpen at the end, then sighed as I opened the tube and began applying fresh glue. As exciting as it was to be one of the few elves living among humans in the world, I had to go and hide it. I scoffed as I placed the covering over my point. My ancestors would have never gone through something like that to pretend they were something else; in fact, they had too much pride to even consider doing such a thing. But of course, as my mother reminded me time after time, humans can't even love those of their own race. Who knew how they'd react if they found out that another race inhabited their beloved planet along with them?
I did a once over to make sure everything was intact, then headed back to the lunchroom, and to my little clan of elves all stuck in the same situation. I don't know how many of us would have voluntarily chosen to live life like this, in secrecy and worry, but it didn't matter much at the time, anyway. What our parents had chosen was set, and for their decisions, this was the way we lived.
I took my seat again next to Kirsten, setting the tube down on the table and fidgeting with it. Kirsten quickly inspected my work, asking, "Better?"
I nodded, and glanced around the lunchroom to find the guy who'd been so kind to lend me his glue. I was guessing he was the new kid Kirsten had been talking about earlier, and was actually halfway interested in meeting him.
"If you're looking for me, I'm sitting right across from you."
I raised an eyebrow and turned to face the guy sitting in front of me as naturally as possible. I smiled sheepishly and slid the tube in front of him. "That would be yours, I believe."
He pocketed the tube and returned the smile, though his had no trace of embarrassment. Rather, it was kind of bright. And nice. "I'm Joey."
"Jenna."
And that was the beginning of the end of the most deceivingly normal time of my life.