The Unofficial Meet-and-Greet

Ellen's better today. Thank God.

She's back to her usual chipper self as we head towards the gates that fucked us up yesterday. It's crammed, again, but not as bad. We finally get to catch up on how our summers went - and of course, Ellen's went better than mine.

Ellen's parents both make a metric fuckton of dosh, so every summer she flies off to some sunny, exotic destination. This time she went to California, caught lots and lots rays, and took selfies in, like, all these really cool places. I spent two weeks in Maiorca and a week and half up in Cumbria with my grand-parents. Fuck me.

There's a crowd at the gates? Seriously? No way! Sarcasm aside, the first-day mania  is over, and the crowd is actually moving. We survive. Anticlimactic if there ever was such a thing. I try (and fail) to show Ellen to our form room.

I find our building fine enough. It all went wrong when we went in via. the wrong door. You could, apparently, only get to certain parts of the building through certain doors (such architecture). I found the right door on the second attempt, but went up the wrong staircase twice, and then when we did the right staircase, we went down the wrong corridor and got nowhere fast. To honest, I dunno how the hell we made it.

When we arrive, we see about half the class is in the corridor, the other half is in the classroom itselfI spy Elsa and lead Ellen inside. I introduce the two of them and explain Ellen's absence yesterday.

"That's sad," Elsa says, "but at least you're better today."

"Yeah, yeah," Ellen replies, "I would really hate to miss my first of day of school."

"You didn't miss much," I add.

"It would have been nice to be around for the introductions," Ellen's voice is thoughtful as she muses on what she guesses she missed.

"The introductions that never happened," Elsa and I say in unison.

Elsa continues, "I know you two and that's it, really. I couldn't tell you, like, anything about the other kids. At all."

I nod slowly, "Same here. No fucking clue."

Elsa flinches. Not everyone likes swearing. I know I swear a lot in my thoughts, but I really don't swear that much out loud. Can't be beeped.

"So other than five pieces of homework, I missed nothing," Ellen guesses.

Elsa and I share a look, and wordlessly agree she didn't miss anything.

Our conversation is interrupted by four girls arrivivng. They've really overdone their make-up (from my point of view anyway), done their obviously-dyed hair super neat, and are wearing their skirts to be shorter than normal. Any guesses what kind of people these bitches are? Yup, that's the correct answer. Pat yourself on the back or something. I dunno.

"Haven't seen you before," one of them says. She's obviously talking to Ellen.

Ellen, for the record, is pretty pretty (haha). She's tall, tanned, slim... you get the picture. Another eason I'm jealous of her. I have wavy hair the exact colour of shit, dot-to-dot freckles, and a crooked nose. I'm, like, the uglist girl in the class. Even Elsa, with her shocks of ginger telephone wire and glasses the size of dinner-plates, is slightly better-looking than me. I know it shouldn't, however it really pisses me off how shitty I look.

"Uh, hi," Ellen says awkwardly, "I was sick yesterday so we wouldn't have met. Name's Ellen. What about you?"

"Regina," the girl replies. I stifle a giggle. She looks straight out of Mean Girls as is. And she's called Regina. Like, everybody else is a movie joke except me, and possibly Ellen.

One of the other 'plastics' (I am totally calling this lot the plastics) notices me, "What you doin' 'ere?"

"I'm Ellen's BFF," I say politely. I get a dirty look in exchange.

"The third plastic asks Ellen, "Why the fuck do you hang out with a nerd like her?"

"She's smart and she's nice," Ellen's reply sums up my only good points.

"Yeah, but that face..." the third girl continues, "like, oh my god that is such an ugly face."

"I'm here, you know," I pipe up. Bitches.

"Do you 'ave any other shitty friends?" the first girl asks.

"I don't have any shitty friends," Ellen corrects her, "Jane and Elsa are really cool. You can't judge a book by its cover."

"You can do so much better," the fourth girl shakes her head disapprovingly. Fucking bitches.

"Leave us alone!" Not that I've known Elsa very long or anything, but I really didn't think she had a bossy side until she snapped at the plastics and made a shooing motion.

The girls take a step back, but then the first girl takes three steps forward and gets right up in Elsa's face, "What did you say?" she growls.

"Leave us alone," Elsa repeats, slower and calmer this time, "we were just having, like, a nice chat and stuff and then you lot came over here."

"Yeah, but we're cooler than you."

"Elsa Frost is, like, absolute zero" I laugh, "you can't get cooler than her."

"Huh?" the ringleader replies showing such incomparable intellect that she makes Einstein look like a moron. Not.

"I'm confused," Ellen says. Her one weakness is that she isn't bright. At least I have that.

"It's quite simple, really," Elsa explains, "absolute zero, which is either 0 Kelvin or 273 degrees Celsius, is the theoretical minimum temperature achievable, whereby there would be zero heat energy. And, unless you can have negative amounts of energy, and bear in mind we haven't even proven even proved it's possible for an object to be at absolute zero, it's the coldest anything can every be ever. And I'm absolute zero here. You're more like 320 Kelvin or something."

The four plastics stare at Elsa blankly. Skillz.

One of the girls finally gets her thoughts together, "We're more popular than you, prettier than you, and unlike you, we actually have boobs."

"I don't think those count," Elsa shakes her head and points at the plastic's upper torso. She is so cool-headed and calm it's not real.

 I, on the other hand, am feeling the sting. I can be smart, kind, whatever, but I'm not pretty. And it's getting really bloody old after eleven years looking like crap no matter what you try. Being pubescent is something I consider a disadvantage rather than a feather in your hat: being a late bloomer gives you time to mature pyschologically before it all gets fucked up by your maturing physically. It lets you get your thoughts in gear, gives you some prep time. But even then, I feel the sting. Ow.

The four plastics turn to leave. One of them looks over her shoulder at Ellen and tells her, "If you ever want to hang out with some non-losers, you're welcome to join us."

I watch Ellen's face crease a little. She's thinking about their offer. I want to protest, to make a single, decisive point that could put her off them, but against my better judgement I choose not to. It's her decision - I may not want to lose her as a friend, but it's her decision, and hers alone, whether or not she wants to lose me.

"I know what you're thinking," Elsa says, "and I would advise against it. They're messed up people; you shouldn't get messed up in their business."

Elsa's taking a stand. Wow, this one is... yeah wow. She has it all together. And she's smarter than me. And she's prettier than me. I should stop being so damned vain, but vision is a human's primary sense, and it's what we use primarily use to judge people - ourselves included. That kinda sucks.

"I probably won't say yes," Ellen replies nervously, "but still... I'm not smart or nothing, but I do know that you should never say no or yes to something without thinking about it. You just shouldn't."

"You're smarter than them," Elsa notes.

"I'm bang-on average when it comes to intelligence, and I guess that makes me 'not smart', but it definitely doesn't make me 'dumb'. What do you think, Jane?"

I shake my head and stay silent.

Elsa looks at me curiously, "What are you thinking?"

I take a moment to compose my words and then speak, "I don't like to influence decisions I'm not supposed to make. I don't feel right doing that, y'know?"

Elsa frowns, "So, if Ellen decides to hang with them, you wouldn't stop her." It's a statement, not a question. There's something really cold, really hurtful about that. I'm trying to be a good, moral human being, and I get treated like a disloyal pariah. Fuck me.

"Answering that question would apply an influence one way or the other. I can't answer that question, really. Not while the discussion is open."

"But you're her friend, right?"

"I am."

"And you care about her?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to lose her as a friend?"

"I can't-"

She cuts me off, "Do. You. Want. To. Lose. Her. As. A. Friend?"

The bell goes. Phew.

We take our seats, but I can see Elsa giving me a dirty look, and Ellen giving me a confused one. Elsa clearly thinks I'm uncaring, spineless, disloyal, and Ellen is getting similar ideas. The fact of the matter is that I'm happy if Ellen's happy - if she's happier without me, I'm happy for her, if she's happier with me, I'm happy for her. Technically, anyway. There's still that part of me that doesn't want her to leave Elsa and I behind, that part would be sad if she became a plastic. I can't let that part show because that part would bias her, but not letting it show could bias her the other way... I don't know.

How do I fix this? Can I fix this?