The 10 Million Shrug Story – Part 2
You know this day wasn’t really meant to be that special, yet it seemed as if it would turn out like it anyway. I was always feeling nervous on first days. Trying to figure out where the new classroom is, how not to be crashed under the feet of at least a hundred bloody teenagers trying to figure out the same thing, but what frightened me the most were the people themselves, meeting them in particular. You see I am not a very social human being. I like my group of friends and I like staying right there in it where I belong and know no harm. It’s like a thick wall that keeps me away from others. That’s why I decided to only have a little amount of friends because I’m not good at this being friends thing. I’m not trying to tell you that I ever was either; it was always me and me alone. Now that I’m in high school I at least tried to make some sort of allies/friends. I like them I really do; the thing is people tire me. They want to know me, when all I want and care about is to remain secret.
Also people like to touch me and I’m not a fan of that either. I have this thing about my hands; I can’t stand when people touch them or even accidentally brush them with their own hands. My hands feel dirty because of the stuff I do, it’s like my hands are the definition of the word sin. My therapist says it has something to do with me being ill. To make clear for you, I am a kleptomaniac. I steal things regularly, whether were talking cookies from the cookie jar, or make-up from the store, like I even bother to wear make-up. They never really caught me but my mom noticed the things in my room and some of them, well let’s say that my allowance wasn’t so high to cover them. No one in school knows. I mean only Kate, Simona, and Mikayla know, also my family, and the therapist. The truth is whenever someone touches my hands, the worst is when they touch my fingers or palms, I twitch because it feels like someone is just attacking my personal space, attacking me. And to tell you how that feels, it feels genuinely awful. This is one of the reasons I hate being around new people, this also includes my social anxiety but let’s not go there now.
When we got to our class I hurried to take a seat that was in the back. I thanked god for the fact that there were still some free and that I could’ve had at least one of my friends join me in the back. Comparing them to me they were very open. Whether we are talking about new relationships with new people or just asking the bartender for a bottle of still water. I couldn’t bring myself to do simple things like that, maybe it was also because of my hands issue whenever you pay you actually have to touch someone’s hands even for a second, that’s why Mikayla, Kate, and Simona just take the money from me and go pay instead of making me. They know how painful it is for me. To be honest with you sometimes it’s like my hands start burning when someone touches them. The problem is that it’s not in the way how your body burns when you are around someone you’re falling for and there you find yourself craving another inflicted burn just to prolong the sensation of the person being next to you. This feels like a burn when you touch a hot pan, not only it is painful but also it leaves a visible scar. That’s why staying in the shadows is one of my specialties, keep it low, quiet, and invisible.
I recognized some kids from last year’s class and I saw some new faces too. Despite the nervousness that was consuming me it did feel good. It felt good. Life felt good. The people around me were laughing and telling the stories of their summer. I bet they were amazing. I just sat there and watched all of this from the back, I liked to see people being happy and smiling, for it made me smile too. It made my-sarcastic-self drift apart for a few short moments.
‘Hey Minda, what’s up with that frown, be happy we’re back together in the same class again. Woo!’ I could hear James shout.
James was, well some sort of my friend. I liked being around him. He always cracked jokes and laughed on every joke I ever said. He made me feel useful, even though it was usually him who was cheering me up and not vice versa. He was your typical high school boy, with friends who have friends, not an outsider like me. He was on the soccer team and I don’t even think there existed a sport that he hated. He occasionally teased me about my weight because I was a bit chubby in the stomach area. He usually brushed it off right after; he wasn’t a bully, just a huge prankster and a joker. I don’t think anyone disliked his freckle flushed cheeks and his ginormous grin which seemed to live on his face since the beginning of time.
‘Careful there I’m still planning a revenge on you after what you did to me last time,’ I laughed and shouted back.
A prank he managed to try out on me. I don’t want to talk about it, it was very embarrassing.
Suddenly I heard Celebration by Kool and the Gang play and I saw my last year’s English Literature teacher walk in, I mean dance in the room with his apparently glorious lawn mower move which quickly changed into the shopping cart and some other tote moves which made everyone in the class giggle.
He stopped the music and clapped as if he tried to reassure himself about how cool he really is.
‘Alright class! Who’s ready to do some reading and energy drink powered writing extravaganzas which all of you leave for the last second possible, you lazy asses!’ he laughed and winked at me because I was the only one who turned in assignments on time. Even though I am very forgetful and lazy I managed to keep school in mind enough for me to graduate with some fairly good grades.
‘Anyways first things first, I’m the realist, okay I’m not Iggy Azalea, but listen here you guys! Today we’ll have some new people joining us. I heard they come from all over the world. I’m sure all of you already noticed that we have some of the last year’s students missing and I will explain that for you right now. Our school started participating in a student exchange program and in exchange for our students we get theirs. Well let’s at least hope they’re better than you,’ he smiled at all of us. His name was Mr. Sorrentino. He wasn’t Italian at all and he was from America. The only thing he could probably exclaim in Italian was: PASTAAAA! Overall he was just your normal teacher with a great mainstream music taste which had a way to make you feel better anytime you needed it, especially his version of Selena Gomez’s Love You like a Love Song. I don’t even think there was a better English Literature teacher ever made haha.
The class door flew open and a bunch of kids stormed in.
In that moment I didn’t know how to react. It was sort of like when you get extra fries with your Big Mac, you aren’t sure whether to be happy about it, or be thrilled about the sudden loss of money and the upcoming expansion of your stomach and fat cells. Well I felt like that, very unsure.
He was standing right there.
P.S. There’s a video with music if you guys want to listen to something nice while reading. Enjoy!
Fall Out Girl