When We Love

I laugh softly, "Fine, whatever. I still think it's gross, though."

Stephen calls from the other side of the group, "Yeah, Johnathan, do you kiss with that mouth?"

Johnathan laughs boisterously, "I certainly do."

Everyone bursts out laughing.

They do not really include me in their conversations, but I listen interested and think to myself that they are a nice group. I was expecting snobs, kids who thought the sun would set when they sat down, but I am pleasantly surprised.

It is only my first day here, but they have taken me into their fold, mostly thanks to providence pairing me with Anne.

The day continues eagerly and after the last bell for the day chimes through the halls, I walk out of the impressive gates, past the security guards and then start to walk the mile to the bus stop. The day I was accepted, my dad measured the distance between the school and the bus stop, so I know it is one point two miles exactly. My dad drops me off in the mornings, but because he and my mom both have full-time jobs, I have to either wait until dusk when either one of them can collect me or catch the bus home.

I realize self-conscious that I am the only one walking along the pathway. All the other students, it seems, are being collected, and some students were driving their own cars.

Thankfully, nobody offers me a lift, although I can feel them all staring at me as they pass me in their big flashy cars, and I feel mortified. I convince myself I am bigger than this, for all they know I could have had a lift or my own car, but preferred to keep it real.

While riding home on the bus, I thought how fortunate I am that all the kids at this school wore uniforms and they could not distinguish the fact I am not as rich as they are. All of them, I am sure, only owning designer labels, while, although fashionable, my entire wardrobe did not have a single exclusive item. I have always had a proud façade, and I have a good posture, so if you had to put a rich girl next to me, both of us wearing our uniforms, you would be hard pressed to decide whom the poor one is.

I get off the bus at the entrance to my street and walk up the hill toward my home. We live in Mt. Pleasant, and I have always thought we have one of the nicer homes in our neighbourhood. My father keeps the garden in excellent shape, spending entire weekends in it-pruning, cutting, planting and watering.