Après moi le déluge

Everywhere I went, people stared; I could feel their eyes trailing me all day long, as though they were paparazzi for the utterly unimportant. Much to my chagrin, changing into an unassuming outfit of a purple plaid shirt and a pair of ratty jeans hadn't convinced a single person to look elsewhere. I felt uncomfortable in my own skin and, as the day dragged slowly on, I wondered how I ever could have gone around in head-to-toe purple Kevlar. I was a freak among freaks.

I left Geometry in a hurry, my notes and things hugged tightly to my chest. My cheeks flushed a light pink as I walked past Ryan Atwood, and I gladly hid behind my curtain of dull black hair as to avoid making eye contact. I'd sat in stony silence for the duration of the lecture, replaying the stupid fight I'd picked with him only a few weeks prior. Luckily it was the only class I shared with him, which meant I wouldn't have to see him again until at least Saturday. I had never been more grateful to have class on the weekend.

Though it was well past six o'clock when class ended, I couldn't bear the thought of returning to the Compound for supper. The kitchen was always crowded at this hour and I'd had enough of being the center of attention for one day. Instead I trudged back to my hut, eyes downcast, trying to avoid the gaze of any potential onlookers. Unfortunately, in the act of trying so desperately to be ignored, I ended up walking right into someone.

"S-sorry," I apologized quickly, and I looked up with an expression of mild horror, a hand coming up to cover my gaping mouth.