My new school is pretty close to our house, the drive is no longer than three minutes, and since I've figured out the directions, I know that I won't be using the car. I don't really like this car anyways. It's not a bad car or anything, but the last time I drove it, René was in it. I can almost feel her sitting in the seat next to me, playfully glaring at something I said, acting like nothing was wrong. It makes me feel sickly, and the apple I ate starts to feel like a three-course meal in my stomach.

The entrance to the school looks a bit different from my old school. This one looks much older, with walls made of bricks. My old one was newer; the school was only a year old when I started my freshman year there. The whole thing was covered in bright colors, and it was all fresh and clean. Here, the small bits of paint left on the wall are all peeling, and I can see the football field from the parking lot.

I take a deep breath and step out of the car, and start walking inside, keeping my head down, and just determined to find the office without any complications or bumping into anyone. As I walk inside there are a few people who catch my eye. They're being loud, they're being brash, and the stench of attention-whore just rolls off of them. I can't help but wonder that if circumstances were different, is this what other people used to look at me like? The girl that partied and came to school in flashy outfits and spoke loudly in the hallways and started drama.

I slowly make my way to one of those flashy people, hoping that whoever I used to be will make an appearance now. She used to be great at talking to people, especially the blonde cheerleader types. Though, the girl I'm approaching doesn't look like a blonde cheerleader; she has pitch black hair, and dark blue eyes, and fair skin with light freckles. She's pretty tall too—around 5'9" or 5'10", and when she turns around as I tap her shoulder, there's a piercing in her eyebrow too.

"Hey, I just was wondering if you knew where the office was? Sorry, I don't mean to be a bother or anything, I just need to know where it is, and I'll be gone," I ramble nervously, not looking the girl in the eye. There's two guys standing next to her, and the three of them intimidate me as I find myself the focus of their stares.

"You're headed in the wrong direction. Walk back to the entrance, take a right at the hallway, and then another right." It's one of the boys who answers. I look up at him, and he has dark skin—I'm pretty sure he's black—and he has deep, dark brown eyes. His shoulders are broad, and I can make out muscular arms from his t-shirt, and I automatically assume that he plays football or some other sport. His posture and figure is similar to the way the football players were back at my old school.

"Okay, thank you!" I say, and turn around, a slight blush making its way onto my cheeks. Not because of the boy, but because I was just walking in a random direction—hoping it's right. I hear the boy say "no problem!" from behind me, and for a second I debate whether to acknowledge what he just said, but I decide not to push my luck. I don't want to say the wrong things, and then the wrong things happen.

I make my way to the office, and approach the desk, where a woman in her mid-thirties is sitting. Her face is plump, but it also looks sweet. Her neck is decorated with plenty of necklaces, and so her arms. Her brown hair frames her face in ringlets, and her eyelashes are so long that I don't ever think she's had to use mascara in her life. She's softly humming a song under her breath, but I can't make out what. She looks so peaceful sitting there and filing papers that I feel bad disturbing what she's doing.

"Excuse me?" I ask, and the woman looks up.

"How can I help you sweetie?"

"I'm new here, and I just need my schedule for my classes, and maybe a map of the school. I don't know if you have those though, so it's okay. I can find my way around," I say, giving her a smile that I hope looks real.

"Could I have your name please?"

"Lexi. Um... Sherwin. Lexi Sherwin," I answer. "Do you need my middle name too?"

"No," the secretary says, and then she chuckles a little. "You don't need to be so nervous; the kids and staff here are nice. We won't do anything to you."

"Sorry, I just... I don't know...I guess; I mean..." I stutter, and the secretary laughs again. She hands me my schedule after a little bit of searching and then she points to a girl that just walked into the office. Her backpack hangs off one shoulder, and she looks out of breath as she stumbles into the office.

"I'm so sorry I'm late Mrs. Sanchez! I promise this won't happen again. It's just that my mom made me drop my sister at school, and if I say no, you know what will happen! She'll start ranting about how she and dad moved here from the Middle East so me and my sister could have a good life with many opportunities, and how I'm disgracing them, and our grandparents, and I'm going to bring shame to our entire family, and then..." the girl stops talking when she notices I'm standing there too, staring at her. The girl is about an inch taller than me, with dark, wavy auburn hair that's tied up into a messy ponytail. Her clothing is ruffled, and she's wearing a shirt with words written on it in a language that I assume to be Arabic or Farsi considering she said that her parents were from the Middle East.

"Zara, how about you just help Lexi around today? Show her the school, show her to her classes, and help introduce her to some people at school. You were aware of the requirements when you signed up for Help-a-Tiger right?" Mrs. Sanchez asks, looking at her pointedly, and Zara nods eagerly.

"Oh yeah, sure! Can I see your schedule... um..." Zara looks at me helplessly and I stick my hand out to shake hers.

"Lexi."

"Lexi. Okay," Zara takes a deep breath, and smiles warmly at me. "Okay Lexi, could I see your schedule?"

"Sure," I say, handing her the paper, and Zara observes it before handing it back to me and clapping her hands.

"Great! We have the first three periods together so I can walk with you to them, and then we can walk together to lunch too," Zara informs excitedly.

"Okay, you guys get to class. The bell will ring soon," Mrs. Sanchez reminds, and Zara nods.

"Sorry, we'll get going," Zara agrees, and she beckons for me to follow her.

"Okay, so first period you have gym, which already means we're at a disadvantage since we're probably not going to have enough time to change," Zara says, and then she speeds up her walking pace. "Lucky you. You get to come to this school the first day of our dodgeball unit."

I groan, and Zara laughs. "Don't worry. It's not too bad. There are some pretty unathletic people in our period—and some freshmen. We can just hide behind them and no one will hit us."

"I don't think they'd like that," I say nervously, and Zara brushes it off.

"Relax, they're just freshmen. The worst they can do to us is call me a terrorist or something," Zara says. She says it in a joking manner, but instantly I know that this is certainly not a joke for her. Her head drops down significantly, and the corners of her eyes don't crinkle anymore when they smile.

I should help. I should do something. I have to do something I tell myself, but when I speak, I just end up asking a stupid question. "You're not a Muslim, are you though?"

"I'm not; I'm just Arab. But hey, that doesn't matter to the freshmen or anyone really. They just need a minority to pick on. But now that you're here, I guess I won't be the only one," Zara says playfully, gently nudging me in the shoulder. "Well...I guess there's Michel, but he's on the football team and he's Andrew and Hayley's best friend so being a minority isn't a big problem for him in this school."

"Is Michel black by any chance?" I ask, and Zara nods.

"He's hot too," Zara adds. "Why though? Do you know him or something?"

"No, I just think I might've talked to him this morning," I explain nonchalantly.

"You talked to him? What did he say? Was Hayley there? Was Andrew there?" Zara gasps excitedly. "Wait, you don't know who they are. Don't worry, I'll point them out to you during lunch. Let's just get to gym now."

Gym turns out just like Zara said. I was given a set of P.E clothes and a new locker by the gym teacher, who should definitely not be a model for fitness considering he sat there with his potbelly out, and ate three large burritos while class was going on.

There were a few tall freshmen, and I just hid behind them most of the period. Eventually, I let myself get knocked out because I get tired of running around. The surprising thing is, Zara, who said she'd let herself get knocked out first when we were changing, ends up being one of the last standing—and there's no one left to hide behind either. She's knocked out by the tall girl I was going to ask directions to the office from. The girl smirks when Zara walks to the bleachers next to me, and once the game starts again, Zara shoots her a nasty glare.

"Are you okay?" I ask. Zara looks pretty mad about it.

"I'm fine," Zara says shaking her head and flashing a smile that shows off all of her pearly-white teeth. "I just got a little excited knowing that I might've had a chance to win dodgeball at least once out of all two years at this school."

"There's still time this year," I say and Zara shakes her head.

"I got lucky today. It probably won't happen again unless Hayley's on my team. You know, she's the girl that's taken me out every single time in this damn game. I swear I'm not kidding—she's the one that's gotten me out. No one else. It's like everyone else reserves me for her. For once, I would like to get her out, and watch that smug smirk drop off her face."

"Did you two ever have a fight or something?" I ask, and Zara shakes her head again.

"I don't know what she has against me. We've never even talked before either. Maybe it's the Arab thing. Maybe she actually believes I'm a terrorist and the 'radicals' online got to me and turned me to the dark side," Zara states.

"Maybe she just wants a reaction out of you. Don't give it to her," I say, trying to find something to make her feel better. There are plenty of bullies that I've dealt with, and there's really only two solutions—tell them off which I don't doubt Zara can't do, or ignore them until they get bored.

"Well she does get a reaction out of me and I don't know what to do about it," Zara complains, and then her hard expression slowly softens. "We're talking about me too much. Let's talk about you. Why did you move here?"

That stops me short. Allison, Kira, and I rehearsed this thousands of times before we moved here. I've practiced exactly what I was going to say; I've practiced my reaction; I've made sure to do everything to make sure that if this question came up, I'd have the answer on the tip of my tongue, but now that the time has come, I can't seem to answer the question. My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth, my throat is glued together, and my lips are sealed.

At some point, I find myself replying to her question with the rehearsed answer. My mom had to move jobs and her boss transferred her over here. But when I say it, it sounds monotone and so dull. It sounds like I'm so distanced and far away from what I'm saying.

It sounds like a damn lie.

"I'm sorry you had to leave all of your friends behind. Moving away from your old life sucks," Zara says sympathetically. "But hey, at least you'll have me, even though I'm probably mediocre compared to your old friends."

"Nah man. You're sweet, and you're welcoming. A lot of my old friends weren't even friends. They were just people I hung out with," I assure, and Zara's eyes light up. The way happiness fills her face makes me fill with joy too. My favorite thing about compliments is just seeing the way someone's face lights up, their eyes fill with joy, and their entire figure just becomes so much more open towards you.

"You flatter me," Zara jokes, but I know that it's more than just a joke to her. I know that I've barely known her for more than a period, but the urge to make sure that she doesn't feel alone or insecure is already there in me.

"That's what I do!" I exclaim, smiling back at her. Zara sort of reminds me of me back before the incident, but she's way more genuine than I ever was, and she's so much more open and kinder. I was fake. I was all kinds of fake. I considered myself to be above those "Barbie girls" but the truth was, I was no better than them. I could be just as airhead-like, and I could be just as rude and bubbly at the same time.

Eventually the period ends, and Hayley's the last one standing. Zara's left staring wistfully and bitterly at her receding back as we walk to the locker rooms to change. I ask her if everything's okay, again, but again, Zara says it's fine.

The last time someone said they were fine, shit happened I remind myself as I walk into the locker room, taking off my shirt. Hayley's locker is actually across from the one that the teacher assigned me earlier. Hayley's posture oozes confidence as she jokes around with some other girls. She's one of the tallest girls in the locker room, with her long and sleek black hair only serving to further that point, and we meet eyes for a second, and her eyes are kind of like a tiger's. Bright green and elusive, they kind of scare me. They put me in the spotlight.

I finish changing and head outside the locker room, waiting right outside the door for the bell to ring. I pull out the paper with my schedule on it, and get confused before realizing that I have Zara to guide me to my next two classes. By the time third period is over, I've come to realize that this school is extremely different from my old one, and I start thinking about it again. But this time, rather than the incident come to my mind, I just feel nostalgic; I think about the squeaky clean cafeteria that smelled like cleaning-solution, and how seniors got to sit outside by the trees. There were always leaves in my food once I started to sit outside too.

"Hey! You left me," Zara accuses with a green as she walks outside to catch up with me. I immediately open my mouth to apologize, chiding myself for being dumb when she cuts me off by starting to talk again. "Why are you standing here? We can go to the cafeteria; I'll show you the way." Zara starts walking, and she motions for me to join her. I nod and obediently follow her, taking note of the different places she points out like the basketball courts and the portables. "And here's the cafeteria." Zara points to a door filled with noisy kids rushing to get to the lunch lines. This is the one thing that is identical to my old school; everyone just wants lunch—or at least wants a break from class.

"Are you buying?" Zara asks, and I nod, eyeing the lunch line nervously. There's food already spilled on the grounds, and the entire place is so crowded. The school is stuffing every single senior into this cramped cafeteria that smells like moldy bananas, and it makes me long for my old life once again.

"Yeah, but do you mind if we wait 'till the line gets smaller?" I ask.

"Nope. I'm not buying so I don't care either way. You can have my chips while you wait. I hate chips. Chips are disgusting. Most of the time it's just potatoes," Zara says, and I frown at her like she's ridiculous. "What? It's just potatoes."

"But... it's not just potatoes," I insist. "It is so much better than just plain potatoes."

"I would rather eat a plain potato than anything from Frito-Lay," Zara states like it's final. "Anyways, let's just sit down. I am supposed to help you meet new people. Well I guess I won't really be helping you meet them, but I know enough shit on everyone here that you'll feel like you personally know them."

"I mean we don't have to meet new people. I'm okay with anything," I say. Honestly, I don't want to meet new people. It's just going to make me anxious. With Zara, I feel a little bit at ease, because she talks so much that I don't really have room to mess up. Even so, I still feel on edge with her. I most likely would've argued with her more about the chips... but I couldn't.

"Okay, so when I moved here in the middle of sophomore year, which arguably, wasn't too long ago, I picked the spot which gave me a great view of the cafeteria, and enabled me to hear everyone's conversations and snoop in their business. Unfortunately, that spot is right next to the trash cans," Zara explains sheepishly, sitting down at the round table, as far as possible from the trash cans which are overflowing.

I sit down next to her, wrinkling my nose at the trash cans and how food and wrappers are spilling out of the containers. The sad thing is, people are dumping their food outside the trash cans too. I feel bad for the janitors here. The entire cafeteria looks like a pigsty. "Are we allowed to sit outside?"

"Where outside? The people who designed this school didn't really plan it out properly. That's why the cafeteria isn't even attached to the rest of the school," Zara says, and then she adds, "well I guess twenty years ago they didn't really have that many people as we do now. Hey, but I completely support your idea. I would much rather sit outside than in here, even if that means not being able to stick my nose in other people's drama."

"So exactly how does this spot help you snoop in other people's drama?" I ask cautiously.

"Okay I lied. I literally have no one else to sit with and when I came here all the other tables were taken. But... it does give us a great view of Hayley's table," Zara says, and then her gaze wanders over to a table in the middle with only three people seated at it.

Hayley's there, and so is the boy from this morning—Michel I believe. And there's the other guy from the morning that I didn't really pay attention to. Now that I do clearly see him, he's actually...quite good looking. He has dark brown hair that just touches the tops of his ears, and hazel eyes. His face looks so calm and his posture is relaxed, his arm wrapped around a free chair as he stares at his phone. I look around the cafeteria, and realize that in fact, a lot of girls are sneaking glances at him.

"That's Andrew. He's hot and all, but honestly, Michel is so much cuter in my opinion," Zara says dreamily, and I glance over at her. Her eyes are on Michel as he walks in and sits down next to Andrew, greeting him. "Oh look, and there's Hayley," Zara says glumly as Hayley walks in behind Michel.

"You know, maybe you should just go confront her about whatever's going on," I say, and Zara looks at me like I just suggested she stick her head in the mouth of a hungry lion.

"Hell no. I've seen her verbally assault people, and trust me, I don't want to get in her way. Besides, there's just two weeks left for the dodgeball unit left. I think I can manage to survive for that long," Zara explains, staring at Hayley.

"Is she like...the slutty queen bee bitch or something at this school?" I ask, and Zara shakes her head.

"I honestly have no idea. She keeps most of her life private; no one knows who she's been with. I've never seen her drinking at parties, and she has like two posts on Instagram and one's of her piercing and the other is of her dog," Zara says. "It's a cute dog though, I have to admit, even if his owner is Hayley."

"How do you know that it's a 'he'?" I ask.

"I've done my research. And you should be proud of me considering that all three of them are extremely private people, I consider it a job well done."

I look over at Andrew, Michel, and Hayley again, and this time, Hayley's leaning over and stealing one of Michel's fries as he looks over towards Andrew's phone.

"So you like Michel, hate Hayley, and Andrew just exists?" I ask for confirmation and Zara makes a big show of dramatically shaking her head.

"I don't hate Hayley. She's an extremely confusing person who frustrates me and a person that I'm scared of. We don't need to use such strong words like hate," Zara says pointedly, and I chuckle.

"Okay, okay!" I laugh, putting my hands up in surrender. "The line's gone down, do you mind if I get food?"

"No, go ahead. Hey, before you go though, there's a party at Hayley's on Halloween. You want to come? I can text you the address and everything, and pick you up too if you need it. Maybe you can meet some new people?" Zara suggests, and I cringe internally.

I haven't been to a party in a while. After what happened, I got antisocial, and I barely interacted with people. I cut off all my relationships.

Maybe this could be my chance to go back to how things were I think, and then a rush of courage that I haven't felt in a while, and I look Zara right in the eye, take a deep breath, and nod. "Sure."