Omnigirl Chapter Six

Summary: Why is fitting in so hard?

🔹Table of Contents

The next day before classes started, I walked around with Julie like I usually do.

“Wow, they actually gave you the ring?”

“Yeah,” I said proudly.

“Let me get a better look at it.”

I flashed the ring with the blue sparkly stone in front of her face.

“Wow,” she said again, but with more of a sigh. “Some girls get all the breaks.”

“Hey, Lila!”

I turned around. It was Cheryl advancing up the hallway with her pack.

She walked up to me. Julie moved to the side of the hall against the lockers with a worried look on her face.

“Lila,” said Cheryl, “you’re supposed to be walking with us.”

“I do?”

All of them nodded in unison.

“Okay,” I said, scratching my head and turning towards Julie. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

She didn’t say a word to me. Julie kept herself pushed back to the lockers. I tried to read her eyes to see what was wrong. It was definitely a look of fear.

“Are you coming?”

“I’m coming!”

I left Julie up against the lockers and joined the other four in their parade through the hallway. That is exactly what it was, a parade.

We walked briskly through the hall, not saying a word to each other. It didn’t have the atmosphere like when I was walking with Julie: the jokes, the meaningless conversation, questions about each other’s hobbies; stuff like that. It was all silent and almost military.

As we walked down the hall, people tended to part subconsciously, almost like we were royalty. This is really weird, I thought. After a while, I began to get tired of the silent parade.

“Where are we supposed to be going?” I asked.

They kept on walking.

“Is there a point to this?”

I got no reply. I gave up and went with the flow.

We got to English class late, but the substitute teacher didn’t say anything about it. The others went quietly to their seats in the back of the classroom. I didn’t join them. I decided to keep my seat in the front, even though it wasn’t the same.

The teacher gave us an assignment to look up information about Mark Twain on the Internet. Everyone took out their laptops and began to search.

While I was looking through a government website, a message popped up on my screen. I opened it. It was from Cheryl.

It said: You have to eat lunch with us.

I turned around and looked at them in the back of the classroom. They—the other girls of The Five—appeared to be just as busy as everyone else. I went ahead and deleted the message.

Today was one of the few days when I actually bought lunch. On my tray I had a piece of fried chicken with a side of mashed potatoes, broccoli, and a biscuit. As I looked out into the crowded cafeteria, I saw Julie, Angie, and Marcie. I remembered the message that Cheryl sent me, but I figured it couldn’t be that serious. It’s only lunch. I walked over to them and sat down.

“Hey Lila,” they all said, welcoming me.

“Hey guys!” Once I sat down, I began to eat.

“Lila,” said Marcie, “what’s it like?”

“What is what like?” I asked while devouring my biscuit.

“You know…”

“Oh, that,” I said, looking up and letting my food rest. “It’s okay, I guess.”

“What do you do?” asked Angie, pushing up her glasses.

“I’ve only been in for one day, so I don’t really know.”

“C’mon, Lila,” pushed Julie. “You must have done something.

Like, this morning?”

“All we did was parade around the halls and act stuck—”

“Lila!”

“Up.” I turned around and looked behind me. To my dismay, it was Cheryl.

“Didn’t you get my message!” she yelled.

“Yeah.”

“Then why aren’t you eating lunch where you suppose to be?”

“I thought this was a free country, and I could eat wherever I want.”

“Lila!” She was getting impatient with me and began to tap her foot on the lunchroom floor.

“Okay, whatever.”

She gave me a glare.

“I’ll see you guys later.” I picked up my tray and moved to Cheryl’s table.

I slid my tray onto the table as I took a seat. “All I remember is promising to uphold the rules of the school and helping others. I don’t remember this being included.”

“We are all here to discuss what we can do to help the community,” explained Lydia. It was the first time she ever spoke directly to me.

“Oh. So what do we do?”

“Well, I’ve heard that the crossing guard at the intersection of Fifth and Sixth Street is sick, and he doesn’t have anyone to stand in for him to help get the kids across the street today,” hinted Linzie.

“Yeah. Maybe we could go help them cross,” said Lydia.

“Sounds good to me,” agreed Bridgett, turning towards me. “What do you think, Lila?”

“It sounds okay,” I replied with a shrug.

“Well, we have all agreed,” concluded Cheryl. “Let’s meet at the school entrance at two o’clock.”

Two o’clock came while I was still in art class. While I was in the middle of a still life painting, Lydia tapped me on the shoulder. She nodded her head in the direction of the door and walked out. I took off my smock, threw my paintbrush in the sink, and ran after her.

“Hey!” I said after catching up with her in the hallway. “Shouldn’t we have asked Mrs. Turner if we could leave first? Isn’t walking out like that against school policy?”

“The teachers already know we sometimes have assignments that

take us out in the middle of class,” she replied smartly as we headed towards the school’s entrance. Cheryl, Bridgett, and Linzie, were already there.

Cheryl opened the door, and all of us bounded down the brick steps that lead up to the school. As we began to walk, I looked behind me and watched as the school got smaller and smaller. Then it came to me. We were actually leaving campus. I could never do this at Bridgman and get away with it. A feeling of excitement swept over me.

I was feeling good as we walked down the street among the nine-to-five working people, making our way to the intersection.

People looked at us as we strolled down the street and stepped out of our way. We were so West Side Story.

And so girl scouts.

The day was nice and fresh. It was a day when you wouldn’t want to stay at home—or at school. Soon we came to the intersection of Fifth and Sixth Street. It was exactly 2:30 PM. Elementary school had just been let out. In a few minutes we saw a group of children coming up the street, walking and riding bicycles.

Lydia looked at me. “Ready?” she asked.

“Uh-huh,” I replied, examining my hands. It isn’t like this was going to be a challenge or anything, even though the traffic was picking up.

The kids came up to the corner. Lydia stooped down to their level and began to talk to them.

“Your crossing guard is sick, so for today we will be taking you across the street,” she said simply. “When we take you across the street, we want you to hold hands, okay?”

The little kids nodded. Lydia took the hand of the little girl next to her. Bridgett, Linzie, and Cheryl also picked up the hands of the other children. Some of the kids held hands with each other. Lydia turned towards me, tossing her red ponytail.

“Lila, take care of the kids on the bikes.”

“Okay.”

I watched as they silently crossed the street with the kids. The process was quick and methodical. In no time we had everyone on the other side of the intersection and was waiting for another group.

While we were waiting, we got into a conversation. It wasn’t really about anything. It was about people we know, school, and things like that. This was another first. It was the first time I’ve ever seen them talk like normal people. I’ve always thought that they were just silent and held their noses up in the air all the time. I guess it’s only a public thing.

In the middle of a discussion about who everyone thought should win on American Idol, I noticed an older lady standing on the other side of the street. Her arms were piled high with bags, and the traffic was unforgiving. I backed away from the group and looked at her. She definitely wanted to get across.

I discretely removed myself from the other girls and walked up to the curb. I looked both ways to make sure that there was no traffic coming. Then I made a dash for it across the street.

I came up to the lady stiff and huffing. She looked at me questioningly. I stood there for a few seconds looking at her, and then I asked, “Do you need any help with those bags?”

“Why yes, young lady,” she replied with a warm smile. She turned herself towards me so I could take the bags that were on the top of the stack.

“My name’s Lila Collins,” I introduced, juggling the bags in my arms.

“What’s yours?”

“I am Mrs. Claudia Evans,” said the elderly lady proudly.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Evens.”

“Same here,” she replied.

We stood there for a while watching all the trucks and cars rush by. Horns beeped as they passed. I could see Cheryl leading a parade of children safely across the street with Lydia, Linzie, and Bridgett, holding their hands.

“I wish the traffic could slow down a little,” said Mrs. Evans to me. “Then I could cross the street and get this stuff to my car.”

“Well, maybe I can take a few more of your bags, so then we would be even. Then when there is a break in traffic, we can run across.”

“Miss Lila, are you aware that I am much too old for running across busy highways?”

“Just try it!” I pleaded. She raised her eyebrows.

“Okay, then we’ll walk across—really, really fast. How’s that?”

A smile broke through the wrinkles on her face. “Okay.”

Once we had a second of clear traffic, we began to walk briskly across the street. I was getting tired from holding all of her stuff and trying to walk across the street as fast as I could at the same time, but I was relieved once we made it to the side where Cheryl and the others were.

They gave me hard stares as I handed Mrs. Evan’s stuff back to her. She didn’t pay them any mind.

“Thank you Lila for all of your help.”

“Oh, it was nothing.”

She balanced some of her bags in one arm and set the rest on the ground as she struggled to open her purse. When she undid the clasp, she pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.

“Take this for all of your trouble.”

“No, keep it,” I said in honest refusal.

“I really want you to have the money.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” she asked sadly.

“Yeah. I’m just satisfied that I was able to help you out.”

She slowly put the money back in her purse and regathered her bags. She started to turn around and walk away.

“Before you leave,” I said quickly, “tell me what you like to do.”

She looked at me with tired old eyes. They were a pleasant brown and fresh underneath her wrinkled eyelids.

“Sometimes I sew. Sometimes I knit, and sometimes my husband and I go kayaking in Canada.”

“You kayak?”

She smiled at me bashfully. I couldn’t believe that this woman who was worried about running across the street, spends her free time braving the white-water rapids in Canada. You just can’t judge people.

“Well, the next time you go kayaking, think of me.”

“I will, Lila Collins.” She smiled and began to walk to her car with the bags in her arms.

“Lila, what was that all about?” asked Cheryl.

“She was stuck on one side of the street, so I helped her across,” I explained.

“Lila, my instructions implicitly were to help the elementary children across the street. Did I say anything about old ladies? No!”

“Well, that old lady loves to kayak, and something tells me that she’s good at it,” I said in the tone that usually gets me in trouble with my parents.

“Lila I—”

“What do you expect me to do!” I went off. “Just leave her there without showing any concern?”

I looked to the others for back up. Bridgett seemed to be more interested in her shoes. Linzie wrapped her blond curls around her fingers. Lydia looked on without any expression. None of them said a word. I hadn’t been so angry since—since Jamie and I had argued. I looked at Cheryl, feeling my eyes burn as if they were going to bore a hole right through her.

“I’ll let you go this time,” she said coolly, “but next time you better follow my directions.”

Over the next few weeks I learned a lot from the other four. Lydia showed me various painting techniques that would help me add more realism to my work. She’s very patient, and never yells or tries to take over when I make a mistake.

She just says, “That’s okay. Maybe you could do better next time,” or simply, “Try that again.” Lydia’s temper is not at all like her hair. I don’t think she ever gets mad. She’s quiet and a great listener. Now I see why they say kindness is her best quality.

On the other hand there’s Linzie. Not only is she the most athletic girl in school, but also the most energetic. She probably generates enough electricity in one day to light up a million light bulbs. During gym, I sometimes try to teach her some dance moves. She can get the moves down very fast, and she is the most energetic dancer I have ever seen, but sometimes she gets so into it that I have to tell her to slow down because she is going faster than the beat.

In return for teaching her how to dance, Linzie tried to teach me the technique she uses for kicking a soccer ball from one goal post to the other. I still haven’t gotten that down yet.

Bridgett is in between. She isn’t as energetic as Linzie, but she isn’t as quiet as Lydia either. She is one of those relaxing people who I could talk with for hours and hours on end. We never run out of things to talk about. She isn’t as smart as I thought she was. She’s smarter.

She knows Latin, Greek, calculus, quantum physics, and is an avid reader of Shakespeare. I like some of his plays, but I think I would like them even better if I could understand them without having to look up every other word in the dictionary. Out of all the things that Bridgett knows, math is her strong point. Everyday in math class she gives me pointers on how to solve math problems or gives me an easier method of finding the answers than the teacher did. After tutoring me for only a week, I could see the difference in my test scores.

Cheryl is different from all of them. Everyone else is so alive, but she just…isn’t. She’s very organized and methodical. Everything she does runs by a strict schedule: when to eat, when to sleep, maybe even when to breathe. She’s punctual and exact. Don’t say there are about two minutes left of class. Say there are two minutes left. I’ve learned many things from everyone else, and they’ve probably learned something from me, but what I’ve learned from Cheryl, I don’t know yet.

I can honestly say that at that time, school was actually interesting. Every morning we would parade down the halls. Even though no one else talked, I did. I talked to everyone we met along the way.

I said, “Hi” to the girl with the pigtails and the girl that wore a million necklaces. I gave a high five to the really tall girl and shook hands with the square glasses girl. Sometimes I would run into Julie and her friends and ask them if they wanted to walk with us.

There could be a group of eight people walking down the hall in all. Cheryl didn’t look too happy, but she didn’t say anything about it either.

In drama, Julie, Marcie, Angie, and I performed a sad piece that required me to cry on cue. Ms. Remarque was so impressed that she talked about it for weeks.

During study period I would play the guitar, but I didn’t sing. I saved all my singing for the bus. I no longer have to sing by myself on the bus anymore. Everyone sings, and on some really good days, we have the bus driver turn on the radio so we can sing with that. The bus driver here doesn’t mind when we sing. Sometimes, he even starts singing. The days of the dead silent bus rides home are over.

Many things I do now I used to do at my old school. Some things I do now I wouldn’t even try at Bridgman, but when I have fun at this school, it’s different.

At Bridgman High, every time there was a field trip there was singing on the bus, and no one can help at least waving at someone they know in the hallways. I guess it’s different here because students don’t really do things like that. It’s almost as if I’m giving them freedom that they never knew they had.

Anyways, that’s the way I see things.

One day while we were walking down the halls, I managed to gather a group of thirteen people. It wasn’t that hard. I just asked people I met if they wanted to walk with us, and the next thing I knew we had a huge group of people. Cheryl definitely didn’t like that, and she made sure I knew it.

“Lila, wait a second,” she said, stopping me in front of our homeroom door. The others were with her too.

“C’mon Cheryl,” I moaned, “I don’t want to be late for homeroom.”

“That’s the last thing you should be worried about,” she growled. Her eyes formed narrow slits. “Lila, look around you!”

“But…”

“Just look around!”

I looked at the faces of Bridgett, Linzie, and Lydia. All of them had a calm look on their face, even though the way they were standing showed that they were tense, but I don’t think that was what Cheryl wanted me to see. I returned my eyes to her.

“Yeah?”

“Lila, look at us! Do you see any of us talking to people even if we don’t have a clue who they are? Do you see us making a racket on the school bus or playing the guitar during the time we should be studying? Do you see us wearing strange socks, suspenders, or even our hair down?”

No, I didn’t see any of them doing that, but I still didn’t see what she was getting at.

“And your point is?”

“Lila, wake up! If you want to be with us you have to dress and act like us. Lila, The Five is a very important group. We have been known for hundreds of years for our neatness, organization, and self-control. The students look up to us. What kind of impression would it make if we all ran around in striped socks and used our study time for something unproductive?”

“Well, I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong,” I began to plead.

“Lila, promise me now that you will change and do things the way we do them. That includes wearing your hair up.”

“But I—”

“Lila, promise before I’m forced to kick you out!”

Her words rang in the empty hallway. The other three looked at me. I looked at Cheryl. I wasn’t sure of what to do. I didn’t like the way they were trying to rule my life, but I didn’t want to get into the history books as the first girl that was dropped from The Five. That would be too embarrassing.

“I promise,” I consented.

“Good,” said Cheryl. “I hope to see a complete change by tomorrow. Now Lila, open the door so we can go inside.”

After school, the bus driver greeted me as I climbed on. I sat quietly in my regular seat. It was the seat next to the girl that always has her nose in a book. She hasn’t had much time for reading on the bus lately because she is usually singing with me.

Today I wasn’t planning on singing, especially since the talk Cheryl had with me this morning, but everyone was expecting me to. After sitting silently on the bus for five minutes, the girl sitting next to me looked up from her book and asked, “Lila, when are you going to sing?”

The question shocked me.

What shocked me even more was that she knew my name, since I’ve never really talked to her before.

I looked around on the bus. Should I sing? Then I caught Cheryl in the corner of my eye. She had followed me onto the bus to make sure I wouldn’t. I turned back to the girl.

“I can’t,” I tried to explain. “It just isn’t the right thing to do.” I knew that was a lame excuse. I should have sung anyways, but I didn’t want to be cut from the group. When I tried to explain why I wasn’t singing in the first place, I was already doing something that the others don’t. They don’t really talk to anyone else unless they are a teacher, or part of The Five.

The next day I bagged my dark, curly, reddish brown hair up into a ponytail. I hate ponytails. They give me headaches. I like my hair better when it is free, but I had to remember the consequences. Everyone puts such a huge value on being part of The Five. If I were kicked out it would be a major let down.

I walked to my bus stop with a ponytail and regular white socks. They were not as fun as my striped ones, and I left my guitar at home.

On the bus I did not say good morning to anyone except the bus driver. When I got to school, I joined the other four and began our daily morning walk.

Girls said, “Hi” to me. I didn’t answer back. Some held out their hands for a high five. I ignored them.

Julie ran up to me and began to talk.

“Hey, Lila!”

I didn’t reply. I didn’t even look at her.

“Lila, what’s up?”

I kept walking.

“Okay. I guess I’ll see you later.” She stopped and stood there as we walked away. After a few seconds I threw a glance over my shoulder just in time to see her turn around and slowly walk away. She sounded so disappointed. I felt so bad, but I had to do it. I didn’t have a choice.

It was easy for me not to talk to anyone in my other classes, because I was usually so absorbed in my work that I didn’t talk to anyone anyways. Even in gym I didn’t have to talk much. I would start dancing and others could join if they wanted. If I ever wanted to talk to someone, at least one member of The Five was in my class. They were in every class I had, except drama. It was drama class that posed a challenge.

When my group would get together to discuss ideas, I might go over and sit with them, but I wouldn’t say a word. Instead I would work on my algebra or a report for English. The first day I did this caused quite a shock wave.

“Lila, won’t you help us with our project?” pleaded Julie. I felt kind of sorry for her. First I ignored her in the morning, now I have to ignore her in drama.

“Okay. Just sit there!” She stomped back to the others. I could hear everything they were saying.

“What’s wrong with Lila?” asked Angie, sounding concerned.

“I don’t know,” sighed Julie.

“I know,” said Marcie in her “I know all” voice. “I knew it would happen someday, but I didn’t know when.”

“What?”

“Lila has finally realized what she is a part of. She’s not with us anymore, but she’s with The Five. She isn’t just a regular student anymore. I knew that it would have sunken in sometime. I wouldn’t count on her talking to us anytime soon.”

I turned a page in my algebra book like I was reading it. I wasn’t. I couldn’t read it. I heard what they said.

It wasn’t exactly what they said that bothered me, but how they said it. They talked about me as if I had turned into a hideous monster or something. My name is still Lila Collins. I’m the same person. It doesn’t hurt if I change a few things about myself. Besides if Cheryl, Lydia, Linzie, and Bridgett don’t talk to anyone else, why should I?

I sat there haphazardly turning pages in my math book. Ms. Remarque gave me a strange look when she walked past me. I turned another page, trying to look deeply involved in my work. She kept walking, but she didn’t look too pleased.

At lunch Lydia, Linzie, Bridgett, and I talked while Cheryl was typing feverishly on her laptop. She said that she had some business to take care of. If I had some work to do, I wouldn’t spend my precious lunchtime doing it.

While Cheryl was keeping busy, Linzie was stressing out over her grades. “I will die if I get a ‘C’ in Biology,” she whined tossing her curly blond ponytail.

“Will your parents get mad or something?” I asked. That’s the only logical reason I could think of for dying over a ‘C.’

“They won’t be exactly happy.”

“My parents don’t mind if I get a ‘C’ because they know that I am doing the best I can, but if I get a ‘D’ or something, that’s a different story.” They exchanged curious glances with each other. I wiped my hands in my napkin and crumpled it up.

“Lila, what are your parents like?” asked Bridgett sheepishly, pushing her glasses up on her nose.

“My mom,” I explained, “usually stays home and takes care of me. She used to have a job, but she quit. As for my dad, he works all the time to make sure we have enough money to live off of. I don’t see him very often.”

“Oh,” they said. Bridgett began chopping up her pizza with a fork.

Why did I even waste my time telling them about my life? I might as well had told them that my mom likes spending her time in Vegas, and my dad plays golf with corporate executives who drive Jaguars and BMWs. They don’t know what it’s like trying to make ends meet. They don’t know what it’s like coming home to an empty refrigerator or having the water cut off while taking a shower. They just don’t understand. There was an uncomfortable silence between us all. Then Linzie spoke up.

“I think we all should go over and have dinner with Lila today after school.”

“Yeah!” the others joined in.

Cheryl looked up from her laptop for the first time since we’ve been in the lunchroom. They definitely didn’t understand.

“No. No, guys. You can’t,” I said.

“Why not?” asked Lydia quietly.

I hesitated. I couldn’t tell them I didn’t want them to come because my family doesn’t have any money.

“It’s such short notice. My mom wouldn’t be expecting four extra people coming to dinner.”

“You can call her,” said Linzie, working her way around my excuse. She began digging into her purse. She pulled out her cell phone with a cloud cover and handed it to me.

“Call your mom and tell her that we’re coming over.”

“Okay,” I said, still unsure. “Just don’t expect anything too grand.”

I heard a ringing in the receiver. After a few seconds my mom picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mom.”

“Lila, is that you? Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m fine. I just want to know if I can bring four of my friends over after school?”

Everyone looked at me anxiously. I balanced the cell phone between ear and shoulder and began picking at my nails.

“Yes Mom, after school—Yeah they’ll be here for dinner. Yes, Mom. Okay, Mom. No, there are four of them, not including me—Okay. Uh-huh. No. Yeah. Alright, Mom. Bye.”

“What did she say?” they asked as I handed the phone back to Linzie.

“She said…” I paused and looked around for a dramatic effect. All of their faces were expectant.

“C’mon Lila,” begged Linzie. “Tell us!”

“She said—yes.”

“Alright!” They gave each other high fives. At the same moment Cheryl closed her laptop abruptly. Everyone fell silent and looked at her.

“I also can’t wait to meet your folks,” she said curtly, but in a nice way.

“However, before we go to your house, we have another community service assignment to do.”

“We don’t have to help kids across the street again, do we?” I asked.

“No.”

I was relieved. I have been helping kids cross the street many times since the incident with the old lady, and I was getting a little tired of it.

“I got an E-mail saying that a few teachers at Bridgman High need help grading papers. We should be back by study period.”

My heart stopped.

“What did you just say?”

“We should be back before—”

“No, not that. What school did you say we were going to?”

“Bridgman High,” Cheryl repeated.

I had heard right. The faces around me began to blur, and I felt very sick. I’m going back to my old school, Bridgman High. What if I run into someone I know, and they embarrass me in front of my new friends? What if people tell them about my history projects, and how I didn’t do my homework? I do my homework now—or at least try to.

After the barrage of thoughts, my mind went blank. I didn’t hear anything, see anything, or feel anything. Instead, a memory floated back to me almost like a revelation.

Why was there a girl in blue at our lunch period in Bridgman High? She was helping the teachers grade papers. The girl had long dark hair in a ponytail. It wasn’t light brown or jet-black. It was in between. She had a familiar secretive anxious look on her face. That was Cheryl Hart, about six months before I had met her.

Then the sounds of my surroundings began to come back in. “Lila, is there anything wrong with that?”

I swung my head in Cheryl’s direction, faster than I wanted to.

“N-no. Nothing at all. When do we go?” I plastered a counterfeit smile on my face.

“Right after lunch.”

🔹Table of Contents

To my 14 year old self: Your writing is so unhinged sometimes. Please, don’t ever stop.

From my 14 year old self to me: I’ll try not to.