Tattooed guys; girls and boys wearing glasses; teenagers with flashy hair colors. Boys with piercings all over their faces; girls with excessive makeup... and I could go on. But, anyway, this is the real high school: diversity and differences whenever you look at it. I think it's amazing and, at the same time, a bit odd. I am not accustomed to seeing teenagers with such freedom. They can use makeup; they can have piercings if they want; they can cover their bodies with tattoos... but of course they all wear uniforms. And I think that's the only similarity with my old school.

My old school was a private one and one of the most expensive schools around my hometown, which means rules about student's appearance were very strict. Something that has bothered me for a long time, since no one could express themselves.

I keep looking at these kids, focusing on their differences, which makes it almost impossible for me not to think about my former classmates; they were all the same: well-off, cocky and certainly annoying. They've spent most of the time bragging about their family's money instead of focusing on their studies. Sure, when they weren't busy doing that, they used their time to remind me that I was just a girl with a scholarship and that I didn't fit in that school. That, among other things.

I walk down the hallway as I struggle to find the principal's office. Where the hell is it? On my way, I bump into some kids. This school isn't that big, but it's easy to get lost if you are the new kid.

Ten minutes later, I find the principal's office. I look at my watch and notice there are some minutes left before the first period, therefore, I still have time. I grab the doorknob and, before I can pull it open completely, someone pushes it from inside. The door hits my forehead and I fall backwards. My back falls against my backpack loaded with books and the tips of those stick into my spine.

With one hand I rub my forehead. Fuck, I was given a hell of a hit, I think while rubbing my head harder. I am sure this is going to leave a mark or a bruise. What a way to start my first day...

"Oh... I... am so sorry. I'm a bit clumsy sometimes," says a voice near me, with an odd accent I can't make out.

I open my eyes that I've kept closed since the impact and look to my left —the voice seems to come from there. When I turn my head, my eyes meet beautiful green ones. They are surrounded by thick eyelashes and eyebrows. I look away and start scanning the whole face that holds those charming eyes. It's a girl, a blonde-long-wavy-haired girl. She's pretty, really pretty. I can tell she isn't wearing a single pound of makeup and that makes her even prettier.

I look down to her body and see she's crouching on the floor next to me, staring at me with a big smile that lets her perfectly lined white teeth in view. She appears to be very nice. Is she the one that talked to me before? Apparently, yes. There's no one around but her.

"It's okay," I answer a bit curtly. It wasn't my intention to sound like that, but my head is pounding, my back is still hurting... bottom line: I'm not in my best mood.

I try to stand up but fail at it. I am still a little dazed and my headache doesn't cease, in fact, is getting worse.

"Let me help you," the girl says to me while she reaches for my hand in order to help me stand up.

I nod and accept sulkily. I don't know how I'm supposed to take this kind gesture. Usually, based on my past experiences, this kindness was just a trick to pull a prank on me afterwards. However, this girl seems to be truthful, I doubt she's up to something. Besides, she's just met me so, why is she going to bother me? Surely, she's just a nice girl trying to help me out, but I can't get rid of these thoughts. When you have suffered so much and all the people around you have treated you poorly, you lose confidence in others. It's as simple as that.

Finally, I get off the floor. My back and head are in the worst condition ever. How did I end up like this?

"I'm sorry... really sorry. I should have pushed the door... softer. I'm a bit goofy sometimes," she tells me with a shy smile.

"Don't worry, sometimes I'm a little goofy too,"

She grins, this time showing all of her teeth. She's such a beautiful girl. The most beautiful I've ever seen, I'd say. Her nose has the perfect shape... not too big but not too tiny. She has thick lips, but a bit thin at the same time. She is certainly flawless —not one open pore, not even a single pimple. She's just born like this? It does seem like that, which makes me a bit jealous. I wish I looked like her.

"Do you know where I can get some ice or a pill?" I ask, breaking the long silence between us. I need to put something on my back and my forehead now.

"Yes, I know. I'll go with you. After all, this is all my fault. Are you the new one, aren't ya?" she asks without hiding her shy smile.

"Yes, I am. Can you tell?"

"A bit. Normally, in this small town everybody knows everybody, or at least by sight. But I've never seen you here before, and I had no idea we were going to have a new girl in our class. Anyways, I'm glad you're joining us" she says with a grin. Her accent might be British, but I can't really tell.

I smile back at her. I don't remember smiling this much in such a short period of time. During these past minutes, this girl brought more smiles to my face than anyone else in my whole life. She's very friendly, clearly. I can tell her eyes convey a clean and sincere look, but I can't say for sure. I've never been an expert at deciphering a person's gaze. For me, all eyes and gazes are practically the same, I don't understand how some people can tell them apart. I admire whoever does that.

However, I need to remind myself that things are not what they seem. When I first heard that, I had no idea what it actually meant but as I got older I understood why a wise man used to tell me that every night before sleeping.