Sanams Short Story First Page

Sitting in History class is so boring. Ms. Little just lectures all day on the same old American Revolution. Man, she never comes up with anything interesting to talk about. Her voice is a drone that just keeps going on and on when she should just stop talking. SO, the teachers boring and the only thing that can make the class decent is the students. However, in all of Artesia High's 4000 students, I have to be stuck with the worst. I have no real friends in it, which is acceptable because I don't have many, but I don't even have any acquaintances either. Everyone is talking to their friends and interacting with the people around them while I just stare at the clock counting down the minutes until it is lunch. Just twenty more minutes to go now. Sometimes I just wish I could talk to someone around me and maybe we'd end up being friends but I'm too freaking shy. I keep saying I'll say Hi to the blonde haired blue eyed girl, who I think is named Ariel, next to me but I can't work up the courage to do it. It's not even that big of  deal, it's just Hi. But what if she thinks I'm weird, makes fun of me, or worst of all just plain ignores me. I give up. It's better to just not talk. If I say the wrong thing, it'll get around to everyone. In this part of Los Angeles, rumors spread around like a disease. If one person know one little thing about someone, that they don't even know is true, they have to go tell someone else about it, who tells someone else, and the cycle goes on until the whole world knows. The people that gossip the most are little Indian girls. They gossip, they're annoying, and worst of all the rumors they hear and/or make up, they tell their parents which eventually leads to my parents knowing some of the gossip at school but they can't make much sense of it. Once in fourth grade I told my best friend or so I thought my deepest darkest secret which at the time felt like the most scandalous thing. I had a crush on a white boy in our class named Johnny Fitzgerald. I was one of the only Indian girls that liked a white boy. Then, my friends from another school that didn't even know my "best friend" came up to me saying that she heard I liked Johnny, It's not really they're fault for being such gossipers, it's just the way we were raised.  


Lost in my thoughts, I blink my eyes a few times to regain consciousness of being in History class again. I see the clock and it says there's only a few seconds left until the bell rings. Everyone shuffling papers and packing their bags. Happily, I pack my bag and "brrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing", the bell rings.