“And aren’t ladies also blessed with kindness and understanding in your universe of medieval stereotypes? Because you’re not exactly ladylike all the time by those standards, are you?”
“June Madeline White.”
She pronounced every syllable sternly. I knew I’d gone too far.
I shot her a quick “Later!” and jumped out of the car just as we arrived.
She yelled something I couldn’t understand, but I wasn’t paying attention. I looked up at the school and barely stopped myself from flinching. Neat rows of red shingles lined the top of the ornate Victorian-style building. Every inch of the school’s façade was festooned with intricate decorative carvings. I felt like I was two inches high standing in front of the towering building. Its stately walls overlooked an expansive front yard. Inlaid gray bricks in the front of the building created an elegant color contrast.
Is this really my new school?
I turned around to see how my mom was reacting. She was peering out through the rolled-down window.
“Did you trick me into going to a convent?”
Mom smirked. “Go on, get inside. I’ll see you after school.”
I reluctantly took my first few steps toward the entrance, as if each one would bring me one step closer to the point of no return.
As I walked through the towering iron-and-bronze gate, my eyes were drawn to the sea of clones around me. Everyone was dressed exactly the same. Perfectly tailored jackets, white blouses, and blue skirts for the girls; cream dress shirts and dark slacks for the boys.
Welcome to the Carnival of Conformity, June.
The students all walked confidently with their heads held high, taking perfectly decisive steps. Everyone seemed so sure of themselves that I wondered if they were even human. The girls looked like cookie-cutter models. Their statuesque bodies moved lithely with effortless elegance. Their feminine faces were framed by long, dazzlingly shiny hair, with perfectly winged cat-eye liner that emphasized their eyes, and dainty noses that were accentuated by subtle, well-proportioned contouring. The guys, too, were completely different from the ones I was used to. None of them wore oversized hoodies or wrinkled jeans. They all looked like they’d just stepped off the runway. People wore pajamas to school in Seattle and every other school that I’d gone to. None of them would ever think about wearing four-inch heels. It looked like they were all about to enter a beauty contest, but the haughty glances from a few small groups of students hanging out on the stairs surprised me the most. Mom was right; I wasn’t shy, but that didn’t prevent me from feeling really uncomfortable.
I picked up my pace in the hopes of making it to the front door unscathed. A nagging thought became louder in my mind: I had absolutely nothing in common with these people.
“Let me guess. You’re new, and you’re lost.”
The gloomy voice caught me so off guard that I jumped before turning around. It belonged to a tall, dark-haired guy behind me.
Was he talking to me?
“I’m not lost, I just got here,” I corrected him, almost annoyed with his assumption.
“First day in hell, huh.” He said this in a jokingly sarcastic tone, but he wasn’t smiling. His lips remained straight, which gave him an apathetic facial expression.
My eyes were drawn to his emerald ones, which were surrounded by long black eyelashes. His jet-black hair was brushed back.
I nodded, but was soon distracted by a slim figure running toward us. Locks of straight hair were braided into thin pigtails that swung back and forth across her studded earlobes. Her face had the same catlike features as the dark-haired guy in front of me.
“What’s going on?” she said.
“Fresh meat,” he said in a monotone.
The girl smiled and introduced herself. “I’m Amelia Hood. The guy who’s messing with you is my brother, Brian.”
“I’m June White. Nice to meet you.”
Amelia gave me the same puzzled look that everyone does when I say my name. Grandma March named my mom April, and my mom thought it was a brilliant idea to continue this family tradition by naming me after another month, so June.
Their intent stares made me feel out of place. They probably weren’t used to being around somebody as generic looking as me, with my cracked lips, straw-colored hair with frizzy ends, and dark bags under my eyes.
“Eh, it’s still cute,” I heard her mutter under her breath.
Brian gazed at me intensely. “Yeah, very.”
I furrowed my brow. Even though their words sounded encouraging, I didn’t have a good feeling about them.
