Myriam C. Barthole - Peace by Piece: Give Peace a Chance

We were in homeroom when Mr. Frank, our schools vice-principal, walked in with a strange looking girl. Mrs. Oliver, our homeroom teacher, looked up from her computer and greeted Mr. Frank with a wide smile. The rest of the class was totally oblivious to the visitors. The usual Monday morning commotion reigned. One group was discussing the weekends baseball game, and another the latest movie. As for myself, I was sitting stiff as a mummy, aching from head to toe. My dance team competed during the weekend, so today I had no energy to lift a finger. Practically paralyzed, I was forced to face forward and to watch the girl in front of the classroom. She had a pretty enough face, but her getup reminded me of a World War II picture I saw on Facebook last summer.

Where on earth did she find this odd looking, stretched-out cardigan? I asked myself, half staring, half dozing off. The lace-collar blouse must have been her grandmas. The long, narrow skirt, okay, could pass for vintage. Not! Dont think so! I concluded between two yawns.

I was immersed in my inspection of the girl, when Mrs. Oliver announced, Class, this is Hannah, Hannah is

My friend, Janet poked me on the shoulder, and whispered, She sure can use some fashion tips. My thoughts exactly, I replied under my breath.

Janet was the self-appointed fashion consultant of the 9th grade at Windsor High. She was at times merciless and patronizing. Fortunately, nobody took her very seriously. However, she made it her duty to criticize and advise people about their fashion faux-pas. Janet and I were called the twins since third grade, not because we looked alike but because we were inseparable. We came to school together, we had lunch together, and we spent weekends at each others house. We even vacationed together last summer. We were also notorious for our abundant energy. Mrs. Brandon, our fifth grade Language Arts teacher, used to say, Cyndy and Janet, you have enough energy to light up Windsor Elementary on a blackout night.

Otherwise, Janet and I were total opposites. Janet was tall with blonde, bone-straight hair. I was medium-height, with dark-curly hair. Janet had long, skinny legs and beautiful, wide, gray eyes. I was fighting a steady war with the fat cells, I inherited from my Mom. Im sorry to say, the fat cells have been winning every battle. Janet, everyone knew, would end up on the cover of Teen Vogue someday. I was destined to diet for the rest of my days.

There was one other major difference between us. Jane did not care about other peoples opinion. She did and said whatever she wanted. Her philosophy was that it never hurts to be honest about what you think or feel. I, on the contrary, cared a lot about what other people thought. I wanted too often to please everyone. Mom says its good to care about others.

Whats the big deal? asked Jay, between his teeth, since when are new students introduced so officially. Whats so special about her?

Just then the first bell rang, signaling the end of homeroom. Paying no attention to what was going on in front of the class; everyone got busy gathering books and stuff. Mrs. Olivers introduction was lost in the shuffle noise of paper and the screeching of metal chairs against the granite floor.

She probably doesnt even speak English, commented Janet, swinging her backpack on one shoulder and heading for the door.

A new babe, cool! exclaimed Mark as he stretched out his arms over his head and unfolded his long legs like an octopus coming out from under a rock.

The room suddenly emptied, and I was left alone frantically looking for my glasses.

Where did I put them? I looked in my pants pocket, in my backpack. Not there. I dropped on all fours to search the floor. Suddenly, Mrs. Olivers voice sounded behind me.

Cyndy will take you to your next class. Wont you, Cyndy?

Just then I spotted my glasses. They were almost under the desk behind mine. I reached for them and shoved them into my backpack and painfully stood up, my leg muscles tight and aching. I was the only student left in the room, except for the new girl of course.

Me! Shes asking me to babysit the new girl? As if Ive got nothing better to do. Ive got a life you know! I thought to myself. But I smiled anyway and said, Sure.

Great then! Good luck, Hannah! Mrs. Oliver said, smiling at her.

I walked out of the room, Hannah behind me. Half way down the hall I stopped to wait for her. It was no use walking ahead; I didnt know where her next class was anyway.

Let me see your schedule, I said very slowly and out loud. I didnt catch much of Mrs. Olivers introduction, so I just assumed she was not American. Nobody in America dresses like this. I thought to myself. She handed me her schedule. My eyes almost popped out of my head. I couldnt believe it. That girl was in my English, my social studies, and my Gym class. I let out a deep sigh. Thank goodness she isnt in my math class. Greg is in that class. He just started noticing me last week. I didnt need someone new coming to distract him. Especially not a new babe as Mark called her.