Part One: End of My Silence, The Making of a New Friend

“REGULAR TEENAGE GIRL,” should be tattooed on my forehead as a warning and a reminder. I swear everywhere I go no one seems to get it. I am just a kid. I don’t like other children. I am spoiled to the extant where I want things my way but am still reasonable. I read most of the time. Using big words is my forte. However, I am still a TEENAGE GIRL!

Like every teenage girl, music is my leader, and I flow and follow the words not the popular crowd. I honestly don’t see what’s the big deal about the popular crowd, their just a bunch of people, who other people think look ‘hot,’ and go out places just like normal people do. If more people followed music then they’d know that, but I guess trends (here me cringe!) (OK I’m sensing you didn’t get that, you know like ‘here me roar’… yeah bad joke) replace music in the normal teenagers mind. Jeez poor kids, it’s really sad that their aren’t enough psychiatrist in the world to help all of them, and I sure as hell aren’t giving up mine.

Dr. Virginia Jones, my best friend, and my shrink, I’ve know her since I was seven. Yeah, that’s right my parents sensed I had a problem at an early age. Psh! I was the only normal one in the household they were just too blind and moronic to figure that out.

When I first started seeing her she said I was very opinionated for a seven year-old, and I told her she was too young to be wasting her life and her time being a shirk, as she could obviously go out and have sex with a old pervert then marry him and take his money.

I was a little mature for my age, considering I’m the baby of my family and have all older sisters I knew a couple of things back then. We’ve been best friends ever since that first session. I’m her breath of fresh air, so she says. I reply to her with, I'm your dose of none psychotic reality. We both laugh and go on with my session after that. Most of the time our conversations are light, but once in a while we get into the heavy stuff, broken down in small words. Yeah, I know I said I like big words but not like ‘I’m so big I'm going to crush your brain big!’

“Lauren I’m worried about you,” Virginia says. Her bodies relaxed against her plush neon pink chair.

“Wow that just makes me feel all dandy and woozy inside.” A bit of sarcasm never hurts anybody. She gives be a stern look… uh-oh. “OK so what’s on your brain?” I’m preparing for the worse. She could say our sessions are ending, or maybe I’m too old to watch Barney, oh gosh, she’s probably going to say I need to stop scaring old people on the subways.

“You don’t seem to talk to anyone your own age. I know you’re a bit mature for your age, but come on, there has to be one person in your school that’s capable of holding a real conversation.” She tilts her head up in a way to look intimidating, I’m happy to report she fails miserably. I heave a sigh of relief that I get to keep my Barney.

“Is that it? You actually had me worried for a sec.” I slowly lift my form into a sitting position because the couch I’m laying on is a bit too lumpy.

“Is that it? What do you mean, ‘is that it?’ Lauren this is about your social skills! You’re a wonderful girl who could make friends effortlessly if you only put yourself out there.” Dr. gets up and starts pacing around her room, stopping at her large window looking out of the Manhattan buildings.

“I already told you I find most people shallow and annoying. Just because you were miss popular in school and had tons of friends doesn’t mean I want to be.” I'm not angry; I'm just tired of repeating myself, first to my mom, then my sisters, my dad was next, and finally Virginia.

“I’m not saying you have to be ‘miss popular’, as you put it, I’m just saying that you might find it fun to talk to someone your on age.” she’s mocking me, I know it.

“Hmm how about… NO!” I reply.

“Come on Lauren just one friend, only one!” I shake my head as she turns around with pleading eyes.

“Why is it so important to you? How about this, when I get to college I promise to make at least two acquaintances, happy now?” I smile for good effect, knowing full well I’m lying threw my teeth.

“I know you're lying, save it for your parents.” Good advice from a shrink, eh?

“Virginia,” I whine, “the only people I’d consider talking to are the nerds because I find them fascinating, but you know I’d only end up analyzing them, and I’d loose interest once I found out their mystery.” She knows I’m right she has to agree with me, she just has too.

“Don’t bullshit me; you can't analyze all the nerds in your school.” She gives me her parent hardcore stare; I crack a smile.

“I wish you were my mother.” Yes, that is my sad attempt to get off the subject.

“I already have a son and he’s a handful I don’t need a daughter.”

“You loser! I thought you really loved me,” I tease.

“Come on Lauren, one friend, just one! If by the end of the week you’ve made one friend I will take you with me on Friday to the Ani Difranco concert.”

“DEAL!” My mouth is spewing this filth before I can stop it, damn my soft stop for music. DAMN YOU!!

“Great! I knew that would get you,” she's ecstatic, I’m about to puke.

“You know, shrinks are supposed to help their clients, not trick them,” I deadpan.

“So? I'm your best friend I can do anything I want.” She bites back.

“There has to be something wrong with a thirty-seven year old who says a sentence like that.” I reply gathering my things from the grey ugly carpet.

“On Wednesday I want a report one your progress,” Virginia calls after me as I exit out the door.

Tuesday morning I am sitting in this god-forsaken place, they call school. It’s a small private school. My parents pay a lot of money for me to go here, they're afraid the public schools might corrupt my brain more. Isn’t it ironic that I go to a school for the gifted? The classes are small and the classrooms are well kept, it’s basically a clean jailhouse.

In this class, you see some of every stereotype, its homeroom. In the back of the class are the jocks, right in front of them are the pretty boys; they are now conversing.

In the middle section is where I sit and the normal kids along with the want to be popular’s, I'm not considered one of them—thank god. The sports chicks, and cheerleaders are too the left of the jocks and pretty boys, their conversing with the whole group. In the front are the stereotypical nerds and geeks.

The Goths are scattered around scaring the crap out of the people around them; I envy their fun. Skaters are near the exit wanting to leave as soon as possible, if I had it my way I would be with them right now, and out the door before anybody. And of course, I can't leave out the invisible girl who is now sitting in the darkest corner of the room writing quickly in her notebook, one of the popular jocks is eyeing her. High school romance is so predictable.

I’m not exactly sure whom I should befriend. I don’t want something that will last a long time, but I don’t want something that will crumble under a day. The nerds and geeks are out of the question, they take a long time to warm up to people.

Pretty boys are out of the question, the cheerleaders and sports chicks already sunk their claws into them. Jocks go along with the pretty boys.

Goths are a possibility, although I would have to get accepted with the entire group before I could hang out with one of them, and that might take a long time. Which is not what I'm going for at all.

I could try the invisible girl, but dramas about to start with her and Bradley, the jock that was eyeing her. I don’t like drama that involves me, and if I become her friend, it will most likely involve me. So, I am stuck, which is not good, not good at all.

I'm not even going to mention why I didn’t mention the ‘want to be popular’s’; that reason should be obvious. Maybe I should aim for the normal people. There’s Grace Duke, who’s a bit quiet but is quite funny. I can tell by the way people are always laughing when their around her. Chance Rictor is also a possibility, he’s an art type and very mellow. It’s not hard to tell considering it’s written all over his arm. Bridgette Garder is a smart slightly dull girl who is a definite possibility considering she’s used to people that stop talking to her after a week. I’m not sure if I can stand to be bored for that long though.

I scan the room for any possibilities that I might have missed, my eyes rest upon Rachel Goodyard, she’s a bit bubbly and looks a little too innocent for the things she’s done. She’s a fiery red head, with big green eyes, her personality is bearable, and she already has a boyfriend with tight clamps on her so their won't be any drama anytime soon. I think I might have just found my candidate. Now all I have to do is figure out a way to talk to her without making my point obvious. Or maybe I could make it obvious; she seems like the type to go along with anything. That might anger Virginia though, and that won't be a good thing. I guess I have to go with plan number one then.

Tuesday’s lunch, I am sitting on one of the stone benches under the willow trees. It’s quite peaceful, though I can't say it’s exactly my spot. Tons of people know about it, and tons of people eat out here. I’m just lucky enough to have it all to myself during junior lunch. Most of the time I observe my surroundings, or the people, sometimes I even read. That’s right, I am a reader and an observer, I’m one of few words. No, that’s just a lie. I have a ton of words I just don’t voice all of them.

I have a perfect view of all the people in lunch, we all eat outdoors, today is an observation day. There are no guys at this school who tickle my fancy. Ha, tickle my fancy, funny phrase. My point was, before I made that lame comment that I don’t stare at guys. I mostly stare at the scenery or the small boutiques across the street. Today, however, I am staring at Rachel’s clique. If I see how they interact with each other, I can know how to approach Rachel. Though it might be kind of hard seeing as how I insulted them during my first day here.

I remember standing in front of the class, small snickers emitted from the back, and the teacher urged me on. I took a long shaky breath, and said, “I find most of you people shallow, therefore I will mostly be antisocial. Don’t talk to me and I won't talk to you. I'm sure ya’ll don’t like being offended and that’s what I’m bound to do if I talk to you. Hell, even if you do talk to be I won't talk to you. No, it’s not because I'm mean it’s because of sheer respect for you. Thank you, and have a nice high school career without hearing my voice. Oh and the same applies to you teacher-lady. Don’t ask me question because I won't answer. No, that does not mean I don’t know the answer.” I gracefully took my seat after that, tons of eyes shifted in my direction.

The teacher was gawking, and I gave her a sweet smile, she doesn’t like me. I don’t know why. By the end of the day, everyone had heard about my little speech and I was virtually stayed away from for the next three years.

Now, I have to upset the balance that has worked so well between this school and me. I suppose it’s too much to hope that they forgot about my little speech. Hell, who am I kidding? I'm a legend, much to my despair. The lunch bell rings and we, the students, are hoarded back into the building for more useless classes we will all forget in a matter of ten seconds.

At home, I am not sitting on the sofa eating popcorn and watching one of my Barney tapes, it is calming my nerves.

“Hey Sugarplum,” my mom walks threw the front door of the apartment.

“Hmm,” I reply.

“Has Nicole come home yet?” She’s probing me to see if she can get a conversation started. Sorry to disappoint you, but not today mom.

I shake my head and she heads to the kitchen, I just noticed the Chinese food she has in her hand. I follow the holy food and I whine up in the kitchen next to my mom with a fork in my hand. I have no clue how it go there.

“Nope. Sorry young lady, but you heard what your doctor said. You’re on a diet right now, theirs a salad in the refrigerator, eat that.” I was hoping my moms scattered braininess would kick in on that tidbit of information, but it didn’t because the universe is against me on this weight issue. Personally, I couldn’t give a damn.

I sigh and troop over to the fridge and pull out the horrid green leaves, they call a salad, my stomach growls and I am forced to stuff the earthly mess into my mouth.

Life is cruel.

The afternoon passes slowly. My mom soon retreats to her study to get her lecture ready for her class tomorrow. Nicole comes home soon after and goes directly to her room, leaving me by my lonesome. Just the way I like it.

In my bed, I turn my CD player on and the soothing voice of James Blunt fills my ears as I tie my hair up and try to drift off to sleep. Two words, not happening. I toss and turn in my bed all night. I haven’t been able to get a good night sleep in a while. After my James Blunt CD repeats itself for the second time, it’s now two o’clock, and I slowly drift to sleep.

In the morning comes too fast. Bags are under my eyes and Nicole tells me I look like shit and need to use her concealer. I respond with, we’re too different colors and it doesn’t matter if I look like shit because I still have enough dignity not to look like a whore. She’s my older sister by two years and is now in college, my mom thought she’d grow out of her style by the time she hit twelfth grade, it didn’t happen.

I think she feels a bit insecure about her body. This is really weird because she gives off that vibe that ‘she looks good and she knows it’. Of course, it could be a fake vibe, but I don’t want to spend time analyzing my sister. I'm not supposed to know why she does the things she does, and vice versa.

After I wash up a bit, stick some lip-gloss on, and throw my hair in a messy ponytail, I am ready for school. The uniform is hideous and it’s making my insides crawl wearing it, and describing it. The shirt is a pink polo with a blue panda bear on it, for our mascot. Underneath it, it says: Eisly’s Institute for the Extremely Gifted. The skirt is a red plaid design, and our socks are pink with bears on them. To top it all off I have to wear these hideous black loafers. I walk out the door saying a quick goodbye to Sexy Beast, my goldfish.

On the subway, I do the usual, and mess with the old men who are a little special in the head. I tell them stories about how this bunny, Billy, sings and flies over countries eating old men who hit on innocent girls, and how America’s going to be next. They sigh and shake their heads; however, I don’t miss the fear in their eyes for themselves. I walk the three blocks to school and my retched day begins.

In second period, I am debating whether or not to speak up in the class discussion. Rachel is in this class and she seems to be firing her opinion at everybody. Not in a way like she wants, you to believe her opinion because it’s right, but in a way that makes you second-guess your thinking. I like this tactic. After class, I am going to talk to her about her activeness in class. I hope that people don’t think I’ve started a revolution by talking they really are that stupid.

“Hey Rachel that was impressive,” I say once we’re in the hallway. She’s slightly in front of me, so she has to whirl around to see who’s talking to her. She turns around and sees me, scans over my head, looks to both sides and then turns back around, as if I’m not even there.

“Um Rachel I'm right here.” This time she looks directly at me like I'm an alien.

“Excuse me?” How intelligent these high school people are, I think I should forget about this whole friend thing.

“I said your skills were impressive in the class discussion,” my voice is as chipper as I can make it; it sounds like I’ve been condemned to hell. I also manage a weak smile.

Rachel does the same and replies, “Thanks. I'm flattered, really, you consider me non-shallow enough for you to talk to me. This must really be an honor, am I right?” She's mocking me but not in a teasing way.

“Yes, yes you should be very honored. I actually said civilized words to you,” she gives me a raised eyebrow, “just kidding. So how did learn those skills?” I'm trying my best to make conversation and I’m failing.

“Is it hard for you to talk to people? It seems like you’d rather be anywhere other than here.” She's a bit blunt, isn’t she?

“No, I actually talk quite a bit. I just didn’t know how to approach someone once I declared all the people in this school bimbos and unworthy of my time,” I even put some honesty in my answer.

Rachel nods slowly as if she's trying to figure me out, then she laughs a bit. I definitely made the right choice of who to make friends with. “Well both my parents are lawyers. Plus I have brothers and I have to find away to confuse them long enough to slip out the door to go on my dates,” she answers my earlier question. It’s now my turn to laugh.

“Well that definitely explains it. You have to teach me the technique so I can use it one my sister when I want to borrow her purses,” the light conversation is going well, and I’m even using some of my personality in my voice.

We laugh and chat together all the way to our next class like we’re old friends. She invites me to sit with her crew at lunch, I think about my Ani Difranco concert, and then accept. I also suggest that instead of their spot they come and hang in mind because it’s roomier.

At lunch on Wednsday, Rachel and I walked out here together after she gave the heads up to her crew.

“Hey Rachel?” I’m a bit hesitant to ask my question, but I’ve made it this far, so why give up now?

“Hmm,” she responds scanning her eyes over the mass of people on the school grounds, trying to locate her boyfriend. I forgot to ask who her boyfriend was, I know they're like attached to one another but I'm not sure who he is.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” I accidentally ask the wrong question. Damn, I wonder if I could take it back. But alas, she opens her mouth to respond to me and I am stuck with that question.

“Oh, he’s Devon Stewart, you know him right?” She doesn’t even turn her head to look at me, her hair flops behind her back as she bobs her head to see beneath the trees.

It’s sort of a good thing she doesn’t look at me. As of the moment, I am frozen to my spot. I feel like my lungs are going to collapse at any given minute, and I might die of punishment. That was a bit drastic, but every teenage girl has her drastic moments, it’s part of life.

Devon Stewart is one of the pretty boys, he's not the prettiest but he's definitely higher ranking then some of the shmos at this school. He. Won't. Like. Me. End of discussion. He’s the type that’s active every second of the day, and who’s always talkative. As I’ve observed in classroom’s he barely talks to lower ranking people. I personally can't stand his cocky attitude, but in the presences of his brother, he looks like Mr. Humble Pie, himself.

“Is he going to be eating lunch with us?” I ask, dreading the answer, and prey for sweet life it’s a no.

“Yeah, I just can't see him right now,” she says glancing back at me. I slowly nod hoping that my loathe and nervousness doesn’t show on my face. No such luck, “oh and Lauren,” Rachel calls to me while still scanning the crowd, “don’t look like someone just died. Live a little, he’s not all that bad.”

“Rachel,” I respond chuckling, “you're way too good at reading people.”

“No I'm not you’re just obvious.”

“Gee thanks a lot,” I deadpan.

Rachel’s not going to stop looking anytime soon, so I walk over to the white stone bench with panda bears engraved on the sides. As, I remove my books from my bag, I ponder if I should read or not. If I read then I won't have to discuss anything with her clique. However, if I read then I won't be actually making a friend, she might consider my offer just a sham to see whether or not high school students are as gullible as people think they are.

I opt for my second choice and put my book away. A few minutes later Danny Tortelli comes walking up the stone steps to my circle sanctuary. Rachel gives him a quick greeting then returns to her searching.

I cast my eyes downwards, careful not to be caught gawking. I know I said that I don’t like any of the guys here, but some of them are fun to look at. Danny is Italian, he’s got the thick brown wavy hair, with beautiful chocolate eyes, his nose is sculpted perfectly, and his lips look like cupids bow.

Yes, he is very good looking, too good looking to be a normal person. I know the reason he is though, he could perfectly well go out and buy the right size uniform instead of his oversize one that sags off his well toned body. I don’t think he likes attention very much.

“Wow! Well, if it isn’t the infamous, Lauren,” Danny says looking at me like I’ve grown two heads.

“Wow! Well, if it isn’t the sex god in disguise, Danny,” these children really don’t know. My bite is just as bad, if not worse, than my bark.

He looks stunned; I swear he walks in a daze over to the stone bench across from me. Rachel laughs softly from her place at the edge of the circle of willow trees. “I didn’t know you knew how to talk.” He’s a joker, I can definitely tell.

This is going to be a long lunch.

“Well you would have to know I could talk for me to be infamous. If I'm not mistaken the thing that made me infamous was my speech on the first day I got here, am I right?” I smirk at him, my dark brown dull eyes gleaming for once.

He seems at a lost for words, he chuckles softly then says to me, “Maybe you were right. Maybe you are out of our league.” I give him a soft smile at his surrender.

“Shut up Danny; don’t give her a bigger head. It’s big enough she can hardly get threw a door with it.” Rachel comments while playing smacking Danny.

“Hey!” I respond, although I am not offended. I’m comforted by the fact that she feels comfortable enough with me to over look my weight and say a phrase that could be a reference to it.

“Who has a big head,” Jeana Richardson asks to no one in particular while walking up the steps. From my spot on my bench I see her wavy blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun, she also if she tried could be part of the popular crowd.

“Jeez Jeana could you be anymore blonde?”

“Shut up, Danny. Just because I have blonde hair gives you no damn right to stereotype me as stupid,” she has a serious bark. I like her; maybe these high school students aren’t as bad as I thought.

Jeana turns her deep-set brown eyes to me, and blinks.

She double blinks.

She blinks again…again…again…and again.

Ok so maybe I was wrong about her. “I'm not a hallucination you can stop blinking now. Unless that’s your normal behavior.” Jeana seems to come out of her state of shock, and narrows her eyes at me. My stare is normal, no weird facial expressions, nothing; it seems to anger her more.

“Listen Lauren, you are no better than anyone in this school. You don’t even have enough common sense to talk to people. We all know your parents money got you in this school, and you not really all that smart, so just shut up.” That bullshit came from Jean’s mouth. Instead of getting angry I laugh, I walk right up to her and laugh into her face. Danny jumps up from his space on the bench in a form of a panda in an attempt to hold Jeana back.

Once my laughter dies down I respond to the most ludicrous comment I have ever heard, “At least I was right about one high school student.”

“Lauren shut up. There’s no need to patronize her,” Rachel says. By the vigorous waving of her hand, I conclude she has spotting Devon.

Jeana stands in all of her tall glory huffing and puffing. “Chill Jeana,” I soothe or attempt to, “there’s no need to be hostile towards me. I was just joking, but if you keep spewing bullshit, I might have to make you cry.”

“Why didn’t you come to us sooner? I absolutely adore you,” Danny’s praises. He stalks over to me, I barely have enough time to register what’s happening because of his long strides, and he gives me a bear hug. Blech.

“Rachel! Rachel! RACHEL!” She didn’t hear my muffled cries do to Danny’s suffocating death grip. “DANNY GET THE HELL OFF OF ME!” I hate the male teenage specimen; they do not listen at all.

“Danny has a new girlfriend? Since when?” Devon Stewart is more or a moron than I thought. How the hell am I going to survive lunch?

“No I am not his girlfriend he is in the process of killing me. If I could get some help, I would be eternally grateful. No, not really. Just help me please!”

The sound of giggles comes to my ears, both Jeana and Rachel are laughing. I can't be mad at them in all honesty if someone else was in this situation I would be rolling on the floor laughing.

Danny finally relents his death grip giving me a chance to breath. I shoot him a dirty glare, and he just cracks a sheepish smile. I laugh a little, “Aren’t girls supposed to be the touchy feely ones?” A small blush creeps on his face and I burst out laughing.

“Hey aren’t you Lauren,” Rachel’s oh so intelligent boyfriend ask me. I shift my gaze to Rachel who’s standing by the swaying trees; she gives me a glance that tells me to be nice.

“No, I’m the Easter Bunny, yeah I’m Lauren,” I respond. My sarcasm doesn’t faze him. He’s a bit attractive though personally he’s not my type. Longish golden hair swings in front of his blue eyes, and you can see his lean muscle threw his pink shirt. Devon’s nose is a bit crooked and has a blackhead just a fraction under it. Freckles zigzag along his cheekbones, and his lips are a little small. No, he’s not my type at all.

There’s a tense silence that I am tempted to brake but don’t have to on account of Ray showing up. “Hey why are we eating here today? Doesn’t that Miss Bitch—” he stops mid sentence when he sees me. He obviously didn’t notice Danny’s frantic movements to stop his words.

“Hello Miss Lauren,” Ray’s voice cracks a bit, and he scratches behind his neck as a nervous reaction.

I coolly stare at him my gaze not wavering to anyone else. I am not offended by his choice of words. I knew people would call me something like that. His body shifts under my eyes and I decide to be nice.

“It’s okay; I knew people would call me something like that. Hell, I call you shitbrains Ray.” He’s stunned I am really tired of this tension. I think I will just retreat to the bathroom and read.

I walk over to my book bag and shove the contents that I took out in it. I grab my sprite trying to pay attention to the curious glances their giving me. “Um Rachel, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to have lunch with you. I’ll talk to you later.” She gives me a small nod as I walk down the steps and back into the school.

From behind me, I hear Danny’s voice say, “I actually like her. Man. Ray you royally screwed up. She’s one cool chick.”

I crack a smile and continue walking along the wet grass.