Finding Fiesel

Not a Little Girl

-Bridger-

I held up the piece of paper for her to see out the window. I had written "impressive" on it. She deserved it though; she just did what most of her classmates fear of doing, and that is standing up to Dawson. I wish I could congratulate her face-to-face, but I'm stuck in this stupid classroom reading because I didn't do it over summer break. Although what she did as bold, I know now that she has set a not-so-great name and reputation for herself already. Dawson has a lot of friends in a lot of grades and can get rumors started easily, which is exactly why people are nice to him. I looked back at her and she just starred at me for a while. It was honestly kind of creepy, but then I realized I was staring back too. Peter ran up to her and she said something to him while pointing at me. It was now that I looked back at what I was doing, trying to avoid eye-contact with her.

What was her name? I simply couldn't remember her name! I know I had heard it before, or did I?

I took off my glasses and tried to clean them with my sleeve. These glasses were only reading glasses and I could see things fine without them, but I constantly found myself wearing them most of the time, even when I wasn't reading anything. Just a habit.

The bell rang and more kids starting pouring through the door again. I turned to the window I was sitting next to and obviously the girl had already fled for class. I decided it would be best to try and find her at lunch and ask questions then. After all, that was the only time I would see her today; I had to read during all the recesses as punishment for not doing my homework which I had nearly 3 months to do.

When class started, we continued going over class procedures and such. I dozed off dreaming of summer vacation already. I know and accepted the fact that I don't like school. I don't like the kids there, I don't like the work, and I don't like the whole aspect of school in general. Maybe it wasn't that I disliked school, but maybe that I was just tired of Elwinn. It truly does get old quickly. I waited and waited until lunch. My teacher, Mr. Clark, just talked and talked and I already disliked his monotone voice and figured out that this year is going to suck with this teacher,

Time passed incredibly slowly in that class. I watched every tick of the clock until it was at last 11:45: Lunch time.

As fast as I could go without getting in trouble, I made my way down the hallway to the third, fourth, and fifth grade area. I stood outside all 3 of the fifth grade classrooms waiting for the younger kids to start coming out.

Mrs. Bloomgrin's class started going to lunch when Mrs. Bloomgrin opened the door. I waved to my old fifth grade teacher. Mr. Doolin's class came out and I started to get impatient even though it had only been about 15 seconds. After I started to think about it, I wasn't even sure why exactly I was waiting for this dark-haired girl. I suppose I just wanted to ask her about recess. Mrs. Forrester finally opened her class door and the fifth graders started rushing to get the cafeteria faster than the person next to them. At a glance, I didn't see her anywhere. I peeked into the classroom and finally found her sitting at a desk, putting her stuff away before heading to eat. I hid myself behind a wall outside of the room and waited for her to come out. When she did, I slowly tip-toed up behind her and poked her fiercely on both of her sides.

She let out a loud squeal and she leaped into the air, flinging herself around to see me. "Hi." I said, realizing that she was not at all amused by what I did.

"Hello," she said, as she gave me a very brief smile and proceeded past me and followed the other kids. I walked along side her, hoping that she wouldn't think I was too weird. She stopped in place and looked at me. "Can I help you?" she asked demandingly. I shook my head.

"Nah," I said trying to be calm. "But why did you do that at recess?" I asked her. Not the best way to break the ice, but it was a start.

"What? Not letting Dawson get to me?" she inquired. I nodded as she shrugged her shoulders. "I know how to get around people like that. I'm honestly glad he just didn't to anything," she stated while slightly blushing. She made her way into the lunch line, myself following right behind her. It seemed as though she attempting to lose me, but I wanted to try and talk to her.

"So are you from around here?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

"I've lived here my whole life. My dad, my foster dad, moved me here for this year." She informed me. It was then that she sounded remotely interested in talking to me.

"Foster?" I asked without thinking. That was something I really regretted asking because I know how rude that type of thing would be to ask. I don't know why I said it though. I know very well what "foster" means, but I wanted to know about what she had to say. She glared at me with shielded and disappointing eyes. "Sorry." I said. She simply shook her head, informing me that she didn't care. With her lunch tray in hand, she found an empty part of the room where nobody was and sat down. I felt terrible that she sat alone. I walked over to her with my lunch in hand. "Mind if I sit here with you?" I asked while trying not to seem cheesy.

She looked at me with hopeful and happy eyes now. "Sure." She said with a small smile. She looked at me again, just like she had looked at me when she was outside and I was in the room. This was the sweetest look I had ever seen and just simply couldn't look away. With just a few teeth showing, her hair framing her smile, and her dark eyes gleaming up at me, I simply just couldn't look away.

I decided to try and talk to her again. "So you've always lived here? Where do you live?" I asked.

Asking that was a either a huge mistake or a really good way to get her talking. It was at that moment she took the wheel of the conversation and wouldn't let go. She told me where she lived, and with who. But she didn't stop at that. She kept going and kept going. She didn't even take the time to eat because she was so focused on what she was saying.

Within no more than 10 minutes, I had already learned where she lived, who she lived with, why Duncan was her foster dad, her friend Jorrie, how she lost her old foster parents, and a bit about her real parents, and most importantly; Her name. This was all before trouble arrived.

"My Dad was trying to work his way into New York for acting and singing when finally he-" she was caught off by a boy behind here.

"New York! I love New York!" Dawson said with a unlimited amount of sarcasm while pushing Fiesel aside and sitting across from me. "Bridger?' he asked. "Why are you sitting with her?" He asked while focusing his vision on Fiesel. Fiesel looked down at her shoes, probably getting the impression that I didn't really want to be here. Dawson pointed at a table a little ways away. "Jordan and Kelly are wondering where you are, and I know you wouldn't want to make your best and closest friends angry, would you?" He geared hat remark at Fiesel obviously, and it appeared it was as through he was trying to get me to leave.

"Well I'm sitting with Fiesel," I stated tying to get him to just leave. She kept her eyes down still, only listening to us. With Fiesel slightly out of the way, Dawson started fiddling with the water that was resting on her tray. Moving it from side to side, back and forth, apparently just messing around. "Whatever," he finally said. He then thumbed Fiesel chin, making her look up at him. It could see her shiny eyes praying that he wouldn't try and do anything.

"You know Feesel," he said, "I think I was wrong about you. I'm starting to think that maybe you and I might become buds!" Dawson sounded believable, but I couldn't believe it and could only hope that neither could she. "What do you say you come play basketball with me and my friends at recess?" he asked while holding out his hand. Fiesel rolled her eyes and looked away from him.

"Yeah, sure." She said in a very unenthusiastic way. She held out her hand to shake his when all too soon, she jumped up out of her seat with a gasp. I could then see that Dawson's hand was covered in his own spit, and Fiesel's hand was dripping with it. Fiesel leapt in the air, swung her hand around, and made direct contact with her slightly opened water that Dawson had so accurately placed. It drenched the table, the seats, and especially Fiesel. Breaking out into laughter, Dawson left the table and Fiesel sat there in dripping clothes. I ran and got as many napkins as I could to give to her.

"I'm sorry about that," I said while pushing my water forward to give to her.

She pushed it back, rejecting it. "It's not your fault," she said with a sigh. There was one thing I didn't understand though and I was just dying to ask it. I finally let it out.

"If you stood up to Dawson earlier, what happened now?" I asked bluntly and hoped I didn't offend Fiesel.

"I don't know.' She answered. "Change of view, I guess." I shrugged and sighed. That really didn't answer my question. "Like I said before," she actually continued, "This new school isn't what my dad told me it was cut-out to be. I'm already being shunned in my class for whatever reasons." She looked away from me and I moved to get back in her line of sight. "When I stood up to him this morning, I was confident about this place. I assumed I would be better off here, and I thought I would make a lot of friends in no time. Between then and now, things changed. Nobody in my class will already talk to me. They all have their silly little groups that I'm naturally rejected from." She almost started to tear up. Was her first half day really that cruel to her already? Or was she still just vulnerable from knowing she had been grown up with her old parents she told me about. "I don't think fitting in and making friends will be easy, just like at my old school." I smiled at her, trying to soften her sniffling.

"But you've already made a friend!" I said, realizing how corny, yet kind of necessary that was to say. She looked at me and smiled really big, drying out her eyes. "And don't worry! I know everybody will come around to like you!" I said with the biggest smile I could make. She giggled a bit and blinked away the rest of her tears.

She gave me "that look" again and whimpered out "thanks." She looked away from me. We both threw out trays away and while I did, I passed my two friends Jordan and Kelly, who Dawson had pointed out. I explained to them what I was doing, after they not-so-calmly asked. They didn't seem to care though. Only Kelly seemed to find it odd that I, a sixth grader, would rather be sitting and talking to a fifth grader. I don't think it's totally unheard of, but this school is really grade cliquey, so it did stand out a bit.

Fiesel followed me out the doors to recess while we continued the small talk. Now she seemed focused on a girl named Jorrie. As she spoke of her, her smile was fake. She seemed to envy her; just by the way she talked. More than anything she continued to stress how Jorrie still doesn't know about her new dad and she hasn't seen her almost all summer.

While outside, I showed her around the obvious-to-discover playground. I rarely played on it anymore, but she seemed eager to go play, although she didn't. He just walked down the sidewalk path, and kept talking. I liked what she had to say. I tried to avoid eye-contact with her because I knew I would just start staring again. I cleaned my glasses with my sleeve, and then out of no where I heard Fiesel shriek in mid-sentence. I quickly put them on in time to see Dawson (go figure) with a fist-full of gravel, pouring it down the back of Fiesel shirt. With arms in the air, she get to him. "Stop it!" She yelled.

He let go of her shirt and she turned around to confront him. She got up to him and grabbed his shirt. "Why the heck do you have to keep pestering me all day long?!" she yelled, loud enough to attract a lot of attention. "All I did was-" It was right then that Dawson did the most despicable thing he could do at that moment. He lunged forward, and pushed Fiesel do the ground: on her back.

The gravel and dirt he had just put down the back of her shirt grinded and cut along Fiesel's back. On the ground, she let out a scream in pain. While many of the kids laughed uncontrollably, some quickly came to her aid, obviously including myself. A fourth grade girl quickly helped her up while a fifth grade girl lift the back-end of her shirt to see if she was okay. Blood dripped down her back. Not loads of it, but a lot more than an average cut or two. She snow-white shirt was stained for good, and she as in pain. Dawson looked around franticly to see if any adults saw that, which they didn't.

Me and the two other girls quickly rushed her inside to the school nurse, with three or four other random kids following in case she needed help. Once we got the nurse, she shut the door to tend to Fiesel alone.

It was then I noticed something about Fiesel, while I saw our principal escorting Dawson into his office. Fiesel never seemed to be in any real pain just now. I know if that had happened to me, I would've been wheezing in pain. She gave a single whelp when it first happened, but that was it.

She didn't scream. She didn't yell. She didn't cry or fuss. And she never once mentioned that it hurt.

Wow. She tried to stand up to Dawson again and got extremely injured doing it, but never once complained about anything? Anything?

I suppose she really isn't what I thought her out to be at first sight: I guess she's not just a little girl.