My Recycled Soul (A Sample)

" Okay, Mom," I call back, pulling my face sourly.

I walk through the waist high grass, the sun glimmering off the yellow tips, to the edge of the trees and into the shadows. There is no path. I stumble through the undergrowth and I can see through the clump of trees on all sides. I was never in any danger of getting lost, even if I tried very hard.

Almost in the middle of the cluster of trees, I discover a fallen tree trunk, covered with a thick layer of moist moss, blending into its surroundings. If I did not almost fall over it, I would never have noticed it. A shiver runs down my spine, it all looks so familiar. I sit down on the tree trunk and I allow the tears to flow freely down my cheeks, letting the sobs shudder through my body.

Later, when the light starts to fade and my mom's calls begin to sound anxious, I get up and walk home.

Starting a new school at my age is ridiculous. I am established in my ways. How will I fit in with new rules, new ways of doing things, stupid strangers trying to be friendly? To make it even worse, I now have no choice but to be chauffeured to school and back by my mom. It is hopelessly too far to walk and there is no public transport along this rural road. Imagine, also, standing in the persistent rain waiting for a bus?

My mom keeps pointing out that I am starting at the beginning of the new school year, and I might not be the only new kid starting, so it would be nice if I made friends with one of the other new students.

Whoopee!

Wearing this horrid new school uniform does not make me feel any better either, although my mom and Sean gush and tell Esther and me how beautiful and cute we look while taking photos. Even if I am smiling outwardly, it still annoys me that they think anybody would want to look back and remember this day.

At school, I cannot stand the way the boys are staring at me. Some of them I am sure are wondering how easy I am. The girls just plainly ignore me, giggling at my strange accent.

For the next couple of weeks, I hide in the bathrooms at every break. It is mortifying to stand around waiting for someone to speak to me or to sit alone in the cafeteria. I act as if I am a reserved, alone kind of person who would prefer not to have friends, so I do not speak to anyone during class, keeping my head down. If anybody comes within talking distance of me, I draw a blank expression on my face and look in the opposite direction. I did not want to look desperate.