The Rainbow Patch

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Starting at a new school sucks. I think we can all agree on that. It’s bad enough when you're a straight white kid, but as someone who doesn’t fit into either of those categories, this first day will be a living hell.

When I enter the school, I can feel the eyes of people boring into me as I walk through the hall. It might just be my anxiety, but I swear I can hear the taunts already starting. I shake my head slightly, clearing the thoughts. Hopefully, First Period will help me calm down.

First Period sucks. Of course, I have to introduce myself to the class. I can’t speak in front of groups on my good days, and this is the exact opposite of a good day. I mutter my name, and something about where I'm from, but I can tell nobody's listening. I sink into the chair that the teacher, Mr. Jackson, directed me to.

“That was very interesting, Miss Donohve.” I cringe inwardly as he pronounces my last name. People normally mispronounce my name the first time they meet me, but that doesn't mean I like it. Mr. Jackson then begins to drone on about the Particle Theory, and I tune him out. I’ve got this stuff memorized, so no need to give him my attention.

There is a need, however, to look at the girl two seats ahead of me. She's gorgeous, no doubt about that, with her long dyed-green hair tied in a side braid, and a leather jacket covered with patches and buttons. She looked kind of like a punk Katniss Everdeen. I was jolted back into reality by the bell, and was one of the first people out of class. As much as I enjoyed looking at Punk Katniss, Mr. Jackson was boring.

The next two periods flew by after what I had endured with Mr. Jackson, and before I knew it, the lunch bell was ringing, and I was caught in the surge of people rushing towards the door, many complaining about the lesson. Evidently, I was one of the only people who found Mrs. Allman’s lessons on paragraphs interesting.

On my way to my locker, I thought about where to go for lunch. There was no way I was sitting in the cafeteria, it was too open, and my anxiety could never take it. I could sit outside on one of the picnic benches, but that was still to public, and all the benches were covered with wet snow.

Eventually, I decided on the side of the school farthest from the yard. There were tree branches hanging over it, so the short, low wall provided a dark, shadowy, and snow-free refuge, which was great. I had just settled down when I was interrupted by a voice.

“Hey.” I turned to see the girl from Science, her green braid thrown over her shoulder.

“Hey.” I said, trying to act cool. I failed.

“You're that new girl right?” Punk Katniss asked.

I nodded warily.

The girl sighed. “I figured this would happen eventually.”

“What?” I asked, thoroughly confused.

“You have discovered my secret lair.” She said, pulling a well-worn paperback from her shoulder bag and thumbing through it.

“It's not very secret.” I noted.

“You ever heard of the term ‘hiding in plain sight’?” She asked, not looking up from her book.

“Of course I’ve heard of it.” I muttered, taking a bite of my sandwich.

“Good. I’m not in the mood to explain it.”

“It seems to me that you’re not in the mood for very much.” I retort. I’m shocked by my boldness. What’s wrong with me? I’m never this talkative. Normally, I’d be a stuttering wreck by now.

She looks up from her book, and I’m worried that I offended her. To my surprise, she smiles. “True.” She continues to baffle me by sticking out her hand. “I’m Emily.” I take it, wishing my palms weren’t as sweaty as they were.

“Johanna.” Emily sat down beside me, her nose back in her book.

We stayed that way for a long time, her reading, me eating. After a while, I glance at the title on the spine of her book. It’s nearly unreadable it’s so worn. Murder on the Orient Express.

“Is it good?” I ask. For some reason, I am unable to shut up today. She looked up, somehow still not annoyed with me. “Is what good?”

“The book. It looks like you’ve read it a lot.” She nods vigorously.

“Agatha Christie is one of my favourite authors.”

“Who?” I asked innocently.

Now she looked annoyed with me. “Agatha Christie! You know, the greatest mystery author of all time.”

“Never heard of her.” At that moment, the bell rang. Emily sighed, getting up wearily.

“Back to the grind.” She said, turning to me. “Tomorrow, I’ll bring you some of her books, and you will read them!”

“Fine.”

Emily grinned, her face lighting up. “See you then, Jo!”

“Jo?”

“I like to use the least amount of brain cells to remember the names of people. I’ll forget them anyway, so why waste the space?” She started walking away, then turned to me again.

“Though I think that you’ll be someone that I won’t forget very easily.” With that she was gone, and I was partially glad, because my face was so hot, I thought I would explode.