The curly blond hair is what I noticed first. No, wait. It was the eyes. Those deeply blue and unsettling eyes that feel like an ice-cold lake. It must have definitely been those eyes. Or was it her voluptuous rosy lips? Why am I unable to process a proper thought since she walked in?
“Thea, welcome, my dear. Would you mind introducing yourself to your new class?” Mrs. Finnegan, the always-sincere 62-year-old headmaster of the Woodland College in Seattle and our history teacher, introduces the new girl in town. We were already informed that a new student would join us. Her parents found new jobs overseas, so they moved from Norway to the States.
“Emmy, would you be so kind as to give Thea a tour and help her acclimatize to this new setting?”
My name is Emilia, Emmy for short. And this is where my story begins.
I stand up, nod, smooth the crease on my school uniform’s skirt and try to smile. As a well-known introvert, I find it kind of offensive of Mrs. Finnegan to choose me, of all people. I try to regulate my heartbeat and wonder if the smile is genuine enough to hide my nervousness.
Thea smiles back. I guess I seem nice, but why am I so anxious all of a sudden? This is not the regular introvert-is-meant-to-do-something-in-class anxiety – this hits differently.
I guide Thea outside and close the door to the classroom, before my lungs fill with air – it must’ve been hours since my last breath – and I finally find my ability to speak again.
“Hi, I’m Emilia, but you can call me Emmy. Nice to meet you,” I start, and it’s the only thing I know to express in this kind of situation. Thea’s beauty is intimidating. Why, Mrs. Finnegan, why me?
“Hey Emmy, nice to meet you, too. Thanks for, let’s say, kinda agreeing to show me around.” She smiles again and sees right through me and my desperate attempt to hide my scared self, but somehow I am relieved. No forcing to be a version of myself that acts like she is not afraid when she has to call literally anyone on the phone. Actually, I find myself… laughing? A little giggle slips out of my mouth.
“Couldn’t say no now, could I?”
I can see an amused smirk that starts to spread over Thea’s beautiful face.
“I mean, you could’ve tried, but I guess the cute old lady would give you some detention in her flower garden on a nice spring day.”
We laugh. Laugh heartily. It is the first laugh we shared, and I could not have asked this to go a better way. She makes me feel so comfortable and like myself. Apart from year-long friends, this really happens rarely.
“Let’s go!”, I proclaim and start marching down the hallway.
© Christian Schmitz 2024-01-02