Gretchen CarlsonThe bald, short teacher stood up from his desk and frowned as the counselor nudged me into the room.
“This is Annie, your new student.” My chirpy escort vanished, and her high heels clipped faster down the hall than the wave of whispers which whipped around the crowded classroom.
Mr. Johnson sighed and plopped into his chair. He drummed his fingers on the desk, cluttered with stacks of papers and books, before he pointed to the only vacant chair at a back table. “Over there.” He never looked at me.
I held my breath, wishing I’d disappear, and threaded my way past smirking students. It was always this way. The air thickens into dares when strangers stare. I dare you to sit next to me. I dare you to fit in. I dare you to find friends.
But as I joined the circle of new faces, a frizzy-hair girl skooched her chair toward mine and smiled. I drew in a sharp breath, thankful for a rush of air to fill my lungs, and a glimmer of hope warmed my cold sweaty palms. THE END.
Okay, maybe that’s not the end, because the whole story revolves around change and shedding The Outsider Shell. Ever been there?
Growing up, I was in a new school every two years. My heart yearned for friendships, but I didn’t always fit in. Have you tasted loneliness?
Last week I moved from Wyoming to Indiana. 1,085.3 miles. Hooo boy. Big change. I’m older (hopefully wiser) and not in school anymore. From my picture, you can guess I’m a grandma. But I’ll tell you a secret: Even adults want friends.
So how do you make friends? While I wait to hear from you, here’s my simple plan as I settle into a new place—smile.
Tell me about the moves, changes, or friends in your life. gretchencarlsonwriter@gmail.com
Or Look me up: gretchen-carlson.com The Storyteller Squad also invites your comments:
Elise Haroldson
Michelle Kaderly Welsh
Great post Gretchen. I can relate because I attended a lot of different schools growing up too. Never easy. That’s a nice thing about being a writer. We can use our imaginations and occupy ourselves wherever we are.
Hopefully, we will never grow old like Peter Pan and loose our imaginations. Following Burton Cole’s reflections: Daydreaming is important business for writers.