Fedora

She comes to first period early every single day. She's the first person to enter the classroom other than the teacher. She walks in with her huge backpack slung over one shoulder; she rarely says anything. Her backpack is set down with a heavy thunk. She takes off her Fedora hat--the kind that annoying junior boys wear--and slips it into the metal crate under her seat. She always wears a Fedora hat. Maybe she just wears the same one every day, or maybe she has a plethora of them--If she does, they all look the same.

The hair under the Fedora is dusty blond, and boyishly short. It still feels awkward to see it so short; it used to be long. She came to the first day of semester with it all cut off. Wearing the shoes, the vest, the Fedora. Completely new image, completely new person. Most of the girls in the class were whispering about her.

"It looks like she's trying to be a boy."
"Yeah. A boy from the 80s."
"A boy from the 80s with really bad style."

And there is some truth behind what people say about her. But it's not so much her clothes or her hair or the awkward pink tinge on her face with no makeup to cover it up. The clothes do have something to do with it--I mean, the girl literally wears plaid pants and orange T-shirts, for God's sake--but it's not her appearance. It's just her. Like most outcasts in high school society, there's something about Fedora that just weirds people out.

She's quiet most of the time. She just sits in class, bent over her desk, getting along with her work. One leg crossed over the other, her left hand squeezed in between her knees, her right hand writing. She doesn't say a word.

But she does look up.
She's always looking up.

She's always watching everybody else, with these very intense eyes. Eyes that you can feel on the back of your head from a mile away. Eyes that always seem like they're going to narrow and make something explode, like Matilda Wormwood's. Eyes that look like they know everything. No. Like they want to know everything.

When somebody feels her eyes on them and turns to look at her, she hides with a yawn. Scratches at one eye like a sleepy toddler, and then turns back to her work.

She doesn't belong to any group. When the class has to pair off into partners, she's always the one who has to wander around looking. But she's always listening to the separate groups. Watching them. Paying very close attention to their conversations.

I think what makes people the most uneasy about Fedora is, she always seems like she's about to say something.

You can always tell when she's watching you, when she's listening to your every word. It's like she's silently leaning her way into the conversation. You always feel as if she's about to say something, add her thoughts, tell a story, ask a question-- but she never does. Those hard-staring eyes just keep. on. watching.

When she does speak, her voice is very firm, her words are pre-planned, and the smile never leaves her face, but the words are always a little shaky--like she's scared she won't say it right. Her phrases always end with just the slightest rising inflection...not like a question?... But more like...an ellipsis...like she's just about to say something else... So you can't just look away... You have to keep listening...

And then she goes on...

She leans closer towards you, just a little bit, praying that you'll keep listening. Her intense, slightly-crooked eyes getting even more close together. They just keep. on. watching.

It doesn't matter if Fedora's talking or not; her eyes are always the same. They're always looking at everyone. But they're not seeing anyone. They're just staring hard, secretly, desperately, screaming, LOOK AT ME.

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So, why am I starting this blog?

It's an experiment, of sorts. Mostly because I'm bored to death with seeing the same people every day. I've gone to school with these kids every day for three years at the least, eleven at the most. I don't even like most of them.

The seniors always talk about how they can't wait to get out of this hellhole. Because then they'll never have to see any of these idiots again. I don't blame them. But...I don't know if you ever fully escape them. I think these people are probably everywhere. They'll be there when we go to college, they'll be there when we start our careers, they'll be at our grocery stores and holiday parties and offices. Just in a different form, that's all.

Because all people are the same.

But...
I think, maybe, if I look at them a little closer, they might look like something different.