'More Like Them'

• Bettyna Mostoles, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2019

I know what I look like.
The way they looked at me, wishing that I would just disappear into thin air.
Honestly, I wish I did as well.
I had slipped into class early to avoid the stares I usually received when walking into the classroom. I sat there, not saying a word as others walked in as noisy as elephants playing the drums. They snickered and scoffed as they saw that I just kept my head down as I stared at my vandalised desk covered in swear words and racist names. The teacher walked in and the other students went so quiet I could hear the buzzing in my ears. I listened as the teacher’s loud voice bounced off of the walls. A question was asked by the teacher that no other student had put their hand up to answer.
So I did.
He had looked at me weirdly, his eyebrow raised questionably at me, there was a judgemental look in his eyes, a dangerous fire that swirled behind his dark orbs.
A look I saw in the eyes of everybody there.
He turned his head to the other students
“Nobody at all wants to answer the question?”
I blinked not believing that he had ignored me, he had obviously seen me.
Small laughs scattered around the room made me frown as I put my hand down shamefully. I couldn't even participate in classroom conversations?
I quietly walked down the hallways, words brushed my ear such as “her skin is dirty like mud”
Or “Where is she really from? Certainly, not from here”
Words like that pierced my heart, no matter how hard I tried to build a wall to block it all out, they’d always find something to say or do to break it down.
I sat alone again at lunch today, the rest of the students had already ostracized me from their groups, they had told me that I don’t belong, which I know.
I don’t have porcelain or fair skin like they do, I don’t have long, flowing blonde or light brown hair as they do. I don’t look anything like them.
How could I expect to be included?
I watched the way they all laughed happily, the camaraderie between all of them. The way they comfortably hung around each other without a worry in the world, they had a bond where they felt like they belonged and were protected.
And I wondered
What was that like?
I had written to my parents again, in the last letter they had shut down the idea of taking me out of the boarding school. They told me to ignore what the others said. They told me that people are scared of what’s different and that different isn’t a bad thing. If they only knew how lonely I really was, how I longed to snuggle into my own bed and forget about everything in the world, to gather around the dining table and eat with my parents. Homesickness had flooded within me. I wanted to go home so badly.
Later on today, I had returned to my dorm tired and ready for an early rest when I nearly died from shock. On the wall, just above my bed frame, were the words ‘go back to your country’ in all capital letters and black permanent marker. Tears had brimmed my eyes from shock. As I heard muffled giggles echo from my door tears blurred my vision from seeing the horrific message in front of me.
All I could think at that moment was
“What if I was more like them?”