Mixed Feelings of Elation

She walked head down through the crowded hallway, passing multiple puke green lockers. Her honey blonde hair shadowed her face from anyone trying to catch a peak. She didn't particularly want anyone to see her; she didn't want to talk to anyone. It was her first day as a freshman in high school; she just wanted to get through it without getting hazed.

Her locker was easier to find than it was in the morning. The teacher from her first class let her off with a warning. If she was late again, she would get a detention. Because of her morning entrance, everyone in her English class now knew her name. She was trying to avoid that.

The blonde stopped at locker 1369, her locker. It baffled her that there could be that many students attending Dulaney High. Over a thousand people that she wouldn't talk to.

It wasn't that she didn't want friends or hated people. She just didn’t know how to make them. Growing up, she had one friend: a certain, spastic brunette she met in the sand pit of the playground. They still were friends and would have been hanging out at that very moment if her friend didn't attend a different high school.

She opened her locker, another feat that took longer in the morning, and threw her books inside. It was lunch time; she didn't need her books again till later. The paper bag on her top shelf contained the homemade lunch her mother created for her. Inside, there was a sandwich and a small fruit salad. Her mother didn't have much time that morning to create a large lunch for her—not that she needed to eat that much—because her younger sibling's blood sugar dropped drastically and she had to be rushed to the hospital.

The girl grabbed the bag as a figure passed to get to his locker. Her eyes caught on him against their will. He was perfect from head to toe with thick black hair, a tall stature and fit build, evenly tanned skin, sparkling blue eyes, and amazing smile.

She knew his name: Armand Lonsdale. He was in her math class. He didn't know her name nor did he acknowledge her when she sat next to him in her assigned seat. His lack of interest didn't stop her from sneaking glances at him during class though.

Begrudgingly, she tore her eyes from him and his flock of friends to look in her decorated locker. Her mother let her buy a few sets of neon colored magnets for her locker. With the alphabet set, she spelled the word "Neon" on the door, her name as well as the theme for her locker. The bright colors in her locker made her feel a tad bit better about being in a new school with no friends to call her own and a uniform that was two sizes too big.

Neon pulled on her khaki pleated skirt, trying to keep it from exposing any portion of her body. Her father had gone shopping for uniforms without her. It was safe to say he knew nothing about clothing sizes. She resorted to keeping the skirt up with a belt, which barely worked because her father bought that too.

Why her mother wasn’t the one who went shopping for her school uniform, she didn't know.

Anytime her father went shopping for clothes for her, they were too big. He didn't know her size and didn't seem to know how to guess. When it came to her little sister, he knew her sizes perfectly. Their mother was the one who knew what size and styles to buy Neon.

Sighing, Neon closed her locker and leaned against it. Lunch was what she had been dreading all day. She didn't have anyone to sit with as she had made absolutely no friends or acquaintances throughout the day. No one spoke to her and she didn't dare speak to anyone.

Social situations were too much for her.

Neon pushed herself off of her locker and rejoined the crowd of students walking the halls. As she walked, she was shoved in different directions by students eager to get to the lunch room or to the quad. She was sure her barely visible rib cage was bruising from all the contact. The idea of purplish marks marring her pale skin made her cringe.

Not that anyone would see the bruising. Except maybe her friend.

Neon made it to the lunch room. Whether or not she made it in one piece was arguable. She stood in the doorway looking over the crowd of people. There didn't seem to be any open tables. Everyone had a spot designated to their group. In the sea of red, black, and white shirts, she found no comfort, no person she could turn to in hopes of not being alone during lunch.

Maybe she should have stepped out of her comfort zone during classes. Maybe she should have at least introduced herself to someone. Just one person so she wouldn't have to be alone, so she wouldn't have to be standing awkwardly in the doorway while students pushed past her to get to their tables.

But she just couldn't find the strength to do it.

She felt a something shove her shoulder. With a short shriek, she fell to the ground. Her paper bag flew from her hand, landing a good ten feet away from her. Eyes of the entire lunch room were stabbing into her skin. She looked up, meeting the sight of a tall brunette. He looked down at her, hands on his thin hips. Disgust was clear on his face, from the snarl to the anger in his eyes. The girl hanging on his arm looked down at her with equal disgust.

"Fat ass," he said and stalked away, giggling bleach blonde still attached to his arm.

Tears formed in her bright blue eyes. Neon jumped to her feet, snatching the paper bag, and ran from the room. Laughs followed her as she ran through the halls. She ducked into a bathroom, tossing her lunch in the trash near the door and staring into the mirror at her reflection.

She wasn't fat. Was she? She ran a hand over her flat stomach. Maybe she just couldn't see it and everyone around her could. That's why her dad always bought such big clothes. Maybe the boy was right.

Well, she was going to make him take back that comment no matter what she had to do.