I had just gotten back from living in Italy with my dad for a year, my 4th grade year to be exact. I was used to the spring smell and dewy grass along the hilly countryside. I arrived back to my real home, Fort Worth, Texas, two weeks before I would start 5th grade.
During this stage of my life I wasn't like other 11 year olds. I was tall and lanky, taller than most people my age. My teeth were crooked waiting to be tied up in braces, and I was very clumsy because of my height. I also had the dorkiest glasses known to mankind, or at least that's what I thought. I was very insecure with my towering height of five foot five inches because everyone was usually shorter than me. Those years are what I like to call my "Ugly Duckling" years.
It is now the first day of school.
I show up in uniform; plaid skirt to my knees, a nice fitted polo shirt tucked in at my waist, and some black dress shoes with knee high socks, at St. John the Apostle Catholic School ready to meet my new friends, if that's what you want to call them. My mom is a math teacher here so I have been privileged to join. The principal, Mrs. Ratliff, hands me a schedule of my classes and shows me around the school. I finally arrive to my first period class, shy of course; I blush as I walk in. I look around and just see blank faces and stares. Stares as if I was from a different world. Feeling even more uncomfortable than when I first walked in, I am forced to take a seat next to the cutest boy in the class. The teacher then...