Chapter One - Saved

Chapter One

Mattie

I close my sketchbook and flop back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I study the glow-in-the-dark stars that have been stuck on my bedroom ceiling ever since I was a little girl. I sigh and close my eyes. I am not looking forward to going back to school tomorrow after summer break. School is torture for me. Everyone hates me for some unknown reason, and I am very harshly bullied.

“Come on Mattie, it’s a new year, your sophomore year, at that! You don’t know that they are still going to bully you. Maybe by now they have grown up.” my mother, Miranda, tells me. I don’t even listen to her. I’ve been with most of these classmates since Kindergarten, and I have never fit in.

I turn on my side and grab my class schedule off my bedside table. I look over it for the hundredth time since I’d gotten it. World History; Advanced English; Chemistry; Composition; Spanish II; the usual classes. Then came lunch, where I would undoubtedly be eating by myself as usual. The next class on the paper makes me stare at the page: Art. We have a new teacher this year, named Ms. Connor. Our old teacher, Mr. Yording, ran away. He literally packed up his house and moved without even telling the school. His action caused us to have a less than certified substitute teacher, which made me hate going to art class. This year would be different, hopefully. I long to meet this Ms. Connor. I want to know what she looks like and how old she is, and most importantly, if she is even any good at art let alone teaching it. Art is my passion, it helps me, soothes me and I want a teacher that can inspire and motivate. I look over my last two classes and put the paper back where I found it. As I close my eyes, I can’t help but wonder if I will last the whole school year.

….

Bring! Bring! Bring!

I moan and slap my alarm clock off. I do not want to get up. I am so used to sleeping in and relaxing all day. I know today is only orientation, but this is still going to be hell for me. I stomp out of bed, rubbing my eyes. I slump over to my dresser and throw some clothes on the floor that I might wear. I slide into my bathroom, splash water on my face and then stare at myself in the mirror. I used to think I was pretty: big blue eyes, brown wavy hair, soft pink lips, and cute dimples. However, when I started being tormented at school, all of my self-esteem went down the drain. I dry my face and step on my scale. One-hundred-thirteen. Great.

I go back into my room and sort through the clothes on the floor. I decide on some dark skinny jeans and a purple top. I pull them on after changing my bra and underwear, and go back into my bathroom. I apply my makeup and pull my wavy mane up into a messy bun. I check the time on my phone, and see that I still have thirty minutes until I have to leave. I sit down Indian style on my bed and pull my sketchbook out from under my pillow. I flip through the pages and see my progress. I am fascinated with blind contours, and I had practiced every day during the summer. I had gotten excellent at them, and hope my new art teacher will take pride in my ability. Blind contours are hard, considering you cannot look at your page while you are drawing. You have to use your eyes to trace the details of the object. This practice has made me very aware of details in my surrounding, and I rather love that. It makes me look at the world differently. I snap out of attention from my sketchbook as a knock came at my door.

“Come in,” I say softly, yet loud enough for whomever it is to hear me. My mom sticks her head in the room.

“Do you want some breakfast for your big day, Mattie?” she asks me.

“No,” I say flatly, and look back down at my sketchbook. I hear my mom sigh and the door closes sharply.

I don’t mean to be this way. I don’t mean to be aggressive and rude. If people actually liked me then I don’t think I would be this way. I hate the way I am, but I feel like it’s the only way I can be, the only way I can survive.

I check the time once more and decide I had better start heading to school. I hop off my bed, gulp my Effexor down with a glass of water, grab my backpack off the floor, and head outside. The warm sun glares down on me, making it difficult to see. I use my hand to shield my eyes, and as I continue walking, I get more and more nervous to be at school. I want to turn around and run back to the safety of my own room, but I decide I needed to be strong and face my fears. Besides, I need to meet this Ms. Connor.

I finally reach the school, and hesitate before I push the glass double doors open. The lobby envelopes me. I can smell coffee brewing. My shoes clap against the tiled floor as I slowly make my way down the hall. Students gather in every corner discussing their summers with each other, and plan to get together sometime soon. I see a group of girls glare at me and then start laughing; all I can do was look down at the ground. I keep walking until I reach the cafeteria where the orientation is being held. Most of the teachers have already arrived, and are talking amongst themselves. I sit down in a chair in the back row, later regretting that decision immensely. After I sit, I study the teachers. Many of our teachers were new this year, and many of them I will probably never even come into contact with. I look to see if I can pick out the new art teacher, but there are just so many new faces that I eventually give up. The bell rings, and students start filing into the cafeteria and seat themselves. The final bell rings and most everyone falls silent.

“Welcome back to school girls and boys. I hope you enjoyed yourself this summer, but now it’s time to get back to learning. I trust you all read your assigned summer reading books that you received notice of in the mail,” says Mr. Terry, the principal. I hear people giggling, a sure sign that not many people had actually read the two books. I, myself, had. Unlike most others, I actually want to do well in school. I also like reading.

“As you can see, we have many new teachers this year. I will introduce them all, along with the old teachers for any new students that are joining us this year. I will also be introducing each one of you, so that we can all be familiar with each other. When I call your name, please come up to the front, I have papers for each of you,” Mr. Terry says tiredly, as if he has done this a million times before. He introduces all of the old teachers first, and then the six new teachers. “Mrs. Bradshaw: the new Junior and Senior English teacher, Composition teacher, and AP English teacher.” A friendly looking old woman stands up and waves at us all, tells us a little about herself, and then sits back down. This routine continues through all of the new teachers. Finally, Mr. Terry introduces the art teacher. “Ms. Connor: the new Art one, two, three, and four teacher.”

Ms. Connor stands up and smiles. She is about twenty-four, and has long dark hair with blonde streaks in it. She is about 5’8”. She is wearing a tight black skirt, blue ruffled top, and black high heels. She has a colorful tattoo on one arm and another tattoo on her left foot. She is beautiful, to say the least. I smile back at her, even though I knew she doesn’t see me. I can tell she is going to be a good art teacher.

“Hi, I’m Katie Connor. I graduated from college just two years ago, with a major in art. I’m easy to talk to and I love to laugh. I can’t wait to start teaching!” she says with a smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be my last school year.

Mr. Terry starts introducing all of the 133 students we have at this school. I, of course, am last as always. It seems like hours before he called my name, but in actuality, only about half an hour has passed.

“Mattalynne Rose Zenderfield,” he calls. I get up out of my chair and start walking down the aisle to the front. Everyone is staring at me and I can hear people whispering about me.

“She’s still alive? I was sure she would be dead by now!”

“That ugly bitch; so fat.”

“Look at her clothes! It looks like she took them from a homeless person!”

I wrap my arms around myself and keep walking forward, eyes on Mr. Terry. I suddenly trip over my feet and stumble a little and the rest of the students start laughing. I can feel my face grow red, and when I glanced over at Ms. Connor, I can see her glaring at the students. Her vision shifts to me and sorrow fills her eyes. I want to cry, but I knew I can’t, not in front of everyone, at least. I take my papers from Mr. Terry and quickly return back to my seat.

“Alright students, thank you for attending today’s orientation. If you all could make a neat line at the table in the back, we will be assigning you your lockers and giving you the combination,” Mr. Terry says. People loudly get out of their seats and form a clump by the table. I see Mr. Terry roll his eyes as he and the secretary, Mrs. Lucinda, make their way to the table. I make my way to the back of the clump and stand there until it is my turn to get my locker. I am the last person in line, by the time I get to the table, most everyone has left.

“Well hello there, Mattalynne,” Mr. Terry says with a smile.

“Hi, Mr. Terry,” I say shyly. He looks me over and I grow nervous. I think he is just observing to make sure nothing happened to me over the summer, making sure that I was really standing right in front of him.

“Glad to see you back,” he says as he hands me a slip of paper. I smile at him and walk off. I get up to the abandoned hallway and search for my locker. When I finally find it, I am pleased to see that it is near my English classroom and the Art classroom. I open my locker and dump the contents of my backpack on the floor, sending loose pens and pencils rolling down the hallway.

“Crap!” I yell, as I dive to grab them before they get too far. I am too busy picking up my things to notice that Ms. Connor has stepped out of her classroom and is watching me in amusement.

“Need any help?” she asks with a big smile on her face.

“Thanks, but I got it,” I say. She bends down and starts helping me pick my things up anyway.

“You’re Mattalynne, right?” she asks as she starts putting my shelves in my locker.

“Mattie,” I correct her. She nods and repeats my nickname. She sticks her hand out to help me off the floor, and I grab it, feeling her soft skin. I get to my feet and thank her.

“Kids can be pretty mean,” she says to me softly. I look down at the floor.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Don’t let them get to you, hon. You’re beautiful. You don’t deserve that. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m always here, okay?”

“Okay.” She bends down to the ground and picks up my sketchbook.

“You like art?” she questions, smiling.

“Uhh, yeah.” I say, blushing.

“Mattie, you’re really good,” she says as she flips through my book. I blush even more. She gives me back my book and grabs my arm. She lets go quickly when she notices that I had winced. Sorrow once again fills her eyes.

“Mattie, do you have anything to do right now?” she asks softly. I shake my head. “Why don’t you come into my classroom?”

“I guess,” I say. I finish putting my things in my locker and follow her into her room. She pulls out two chairs and sits down on one. I take a seat on the other and she looks at me intently.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” she says. I stare at her blankly for a moment before beginning.

“Ms. Connor, I really appreciate this, but…” before I could finish she cuts me off.

“Miss Katie,” she corrects me, “and I just want to help you. Mattie, I know we don’t really know each other, but I want to try to help.”

“People have tried. Anyway, I don’t need help,” I say. I get up off the chair and start walking towards the door.

“Mattie, please,” she begs.

“What?” I ask sharply. I just want to go home. I thought I would like this new teacher, but it turns out she’s just like the rest of them, always in my business. She sighs and looks at me.

“Are you taking art?” she asks.

“Sixth hour,” I say abruptly, and with that I turn on my heels and leave.