Fruits Forbidden

Chapter 4:The New Girl’s Kinda Weird

I should have made more friends in my class when I had the time.

I looked around the class, and saw everyone busy with their set of friends–groups upon groups of differing conversations, ideations, discussions and debates. I could’ve fit right in if I had started soon, right? No point in lying, though. I would have been just as unbelonging and unfit among my peers as I still do.

Agatha and her bunch of nerd friends, who sat in front of me, always talked about the newest inventions or the history of older inventions. Everything sounded so fun and interesting, listening to them bring newer histories for older objects. It was because of them that I found out about Marie Curie and her contribution to radioactivity, something I had never really heard of except in that one Imagine Dragons song. But while I enjoyed their ruminations, I could not keep my mind only limited to the scholarly. Sometimes, their conversations went over my head, with some names so confusing, I couldn’t even pronounce them.

Beside me sat the group we called political police. They never shut up about politics. Sure, most of it was relevant and provided everyone with perspective, knowing the rights and wrongs of current affairs, but their loud, abashed proclamations made it really hard to listen to them without fretting. When I hung out with them once when my best friend was absent, I went back home and told my mom all the finer details about the Palestine and Israel conflict. She was concerned. Amazed, but concerned. That week I stayed up all night to find ways to help those struck by terror, and ended up spending half of my college funds as a donation. It’s safe to say my sensitive conscience was incapable of handling their conversations anymore. So that went downhill too.

At the backbenches, the footballers upheld their stereotypical image for the world. Meaningless chatter and tongue in cheek innuendoes were all that these people had to offer. A couple of the girls were comparatively nicer than the others, but let’s just say that “one bad seed spoils the whole bunch”. Their topics of interest were always boobs and asses and hot celebrities and gossip. Don’t mind my saying, I love myself some of the juiciest gossip and fangirling over attractive people, but when all you do is just that, it becomes tiring.

And so my tirade finally led to my other best friend, Stacie. No matter where I went, or what I did, I knew I had to return to her at the end of the day. And today my day seemed to not end at all. It was so exhausting, not having her around.

While I was here, pining over this girl like her forlorn lover (I’m sure people already assumed we were a couple), she went to go see her grandma for the nth time this month. Not because her grandma was dying or something, but because Grandma Vicky wanted Stacie to cook for her, again. Old women are really clever at using their weaknesses to their advantages, claiming one aching limb as collateral for each meal. This week, it was her feet aching. But I get the woman. Heck, I would do this too if it meant Stacie would cook me elaborate meals.

I was about to give in to my desperate loneliness and call Stacie to beg her to come back, but before I could click ‘dial’, Ms Sands, our literature professor, walked into the class. I immediately put the phone away, grinning widely at her. Out of all the professors at school she was my ultimate favourite, and I was her prized student. It felt good to be acknowledged.

She returned my grin with one of her own bright smiles. Oh, the pleasures of being a teacher’s pet.

Just then, a soft knock on the door turned my attention away from my favourite teacher and the bustling class and towards a petite blonde haired girl. She looked as if she had walked down the runway, and I was pretty great at fashion when I wanted to. Her hair was flowing with the slow moving air of the ceiling fans, her dress form-fitting on the effortless-looking curves, flaring into a pretty skirt. All I could think was ‘wow’. This girl had confidence, and I loved how well she carried it. She breezed into the room and smiled apologetically at Ms Sands, handing her a note which seemed to bring the light of recognition in the confused professor’s face.

Ms Sands cleared her throat and then addressed all of us.

“Everyone, this is Michelle Robbs, and she has transferred here from a different state. She used to be a student at Rutherford High back in the decade but had to change schools for some, err–personal reasons. I hope we can all try to make her feel welcome here, yeah?” Michelle waved a sweet, polite hi towards everyone.

Poor girl. Joining a new school at 17 with her looks and sweetness? She better know self-defence. Imagine joining a new school, but with the same old bullies who are now older and meaner. Schools already suck, but imagine having to go through this sucking twice. Somehow though, I knew this girl would survive. There had to be more to her than what she showed the world.

“Ms Robbs, why don’t you settle down beside Ms Woods?” That pulled me out of my reverie. I raised my head just as Ms Sands said “May, could you raise your hand please?” I did as asked, but in my head I was going through ways of telling this sweet nice girl to find a different seat for herself after my girl returns. Sure, I love being liked by everyone, but that did not mean I would give up on all my comforts.

“Hi.” she stretched out her hand. “I’m Michelle.” I let out a laugh.

“Yes, I heard.” I shook her surprisingly firm hand. “I’m–”

“May. I heard too.” She doesn’t seem so bad after all.

“So, not to be mean or anything, but–”

“Are you also going to ask me why I moved?” Seemed like a sensitive topic.

“No! Actually I was gonna tell you that this is my best friend’s, and I know it sounds childish but we’ve always sat together since we were little kids. So I was just hoping you’d unders–”

“Got it, captain.” She raised her hand to a salute. “I’ll find me a new bench bestie tomorrow.” I wouldn’t even have minded if she stuck around, but Stacie was wary of new people, so I let it go.

“Girls, can we start?” Ms Sands raised an eyebrow at us.

My face reddened in embarrassment as the class began.