Personal Narrative: Cherokee Middle School

100% Attitude
The day seemed to drag on as the rain poured down. I could hear the pitter patter of each individual raindrop saying loser, no one loves you. My outlook on life was bleak. I yearned to be home, in my bed where no one could judge me for having a rough day. Pessimism was my automatic system.
It was my first at Cherokee Middle School. I pulled up to the front of the school. Reluctantly, I pulled my legs to the right side of the seat and slide out of the passenger seat. My lungs automatically lifted and I took a deep breath. Sighing, I pulled out my eighth grade schedule. I glided through the doors of the building in a sea of sweaty middle schoolers. The cafeteria unfolded to my right and the main office to my left. The cafeteria

I looked around, the room had exposed pipes on the ceiling and the entire room smelled faintly of Clorox wipes. Around me girls and boys talked and caught up. The majority of them had apparently gone to Kindergarten together. While I was the new kid, the outsider. Seats were scarce. I looked for a familiar face, for some reason. I settled next to a girl with fiery red-orange hair. “Hi, I’m Halley.” She introduced herself. Her smile was the fake kind, seen in school pictures everywhere. I smiled and responded, “Hi, I’m Lorna. I just moved here from Texas.” Her smile became increasingly forced, “Um, cool.” She turned her body away from me. Ok, I though, sorry I offended you, I guess. In my head, I was sneering and thinking rude thoughts to no end. In class, however, I upheld my morals. I was silent for the rest of the

Finally, the bell rang and a sea of hungry students rushed to the cafeteria. The thing I had dreaded all my life had finally become a sick reality. I was alone. I roamed the cafeteria looking for a seat. A few snobby girls stopped talking as I walked by. Geez. I though.. I tried to lighten my mood. It didn’t work. I snagged a seat by some girls I recognized from my History class. The first girl has dark brown hair and a look of disgust as I sat down. The second girl seemed kinder but not by much. I ate my lunch in blistering silence. I felt hot tears sting my eyes. Do not cry. Do not give them any weakness. I urged myself. My pessimistic nature got the best of me. I hastily cleaned up my space and excused myself to the bathroom. I checked my reflection. Took about fifty deep breaths and drudged my pessimism with me. I pulled my wrinkled schedule from my pocket, “Algebra, great.” I whispered to