This Is What Makes us Girls

I was never a fan of New York’s winters. I never liked how the cold had left the trees in the city parks and on the sidewalk so bare and ordinarily unattractive. Yet, right now, in the passenger seat of my mothers Mustang, I felt that in a world full of people that don’t get me, at least the weather did. My mom had the radio humming in the background, needing to fill the uncomfortable silence that had built up the entire car ride. I was leaning against the door, my eyes focusing on the New Yorkers on the street; a homeless man in tattered clothing held a cardboard sign that read “Born to die.” I frowned at the morbidity of the message. He didn’t ask for clothes or for money or for food. He only had those three words written in thick marker; a few people walked past the elderly man that looked too thin for his clothes with disapproving stares. One man, that was dressed no better than the elderly man, dropped a dollar in the rusted soup tin at his feet. My heart sunk. Someone that was having it as rough as he was having it, found it in his heart to help his fellow man; here we were driving in a new Mustang on our way to my boarding school, not even offering this man a second glance.


My boarding school was in Brooklyn, the further I was from home the better it was for my mother- and it worked out fine for me.
“Now, Elizabeth, I had to pull a lot of strings to get you into this school. You don’t have a very good GPA and with your absences from your previous school, they didn’t want to even consider you. So make the most out of this opportunity.” I finally drew my eyes from my window to look at my mother, it was the first time I looked at her this entire car ride.
“I wouldn’t hold my breath.” I muttered, looking out of the windscreen. There were children sitting at the lunch tables on the lawn, some had their faces buried in their books- probably studying for upcoming exams. Some were eating while others were socialising with their friends. The building in the background was large and looked fairly old. Great.
I opened my door and stepped out into the cold hesitantly; the wind that had picked up stung my face, turning my nose into a numb red ornament on my face.


We had walked into the school building, the heat instantly warming my entire face, I felt like I could melt right there on theirI marble floors. We had ascended a fairly large staircase and followed a few signs directing us to the main office.
A plump lady with lilac-like hair sat at the front desk, her glasses resting on the tip of her nose, her beady eyes that looked as if they were looking over the glasses instead of through them, studied a page that was in front of her.
“Hello, I’m Mrs Grant. This is my daughter Elizabeth.” the elderly woman peered at us over her glasses, her thin lips pursed before she cleared her throat.
“Ah! Yes, John did mention a new student would be joining us. He’s right in his office.” the woman directed my mom to a glass door that read ‘John Greene’ in black on the door, the silver blinds pulled down completely, not offering a glimpse of the office on the inside.


My mother had instructed me to sit outside and wait for her to return from the meeting, I didn’t complain.
To my right there was a boy that made a feeble attempt at starting a conversation with me, to which I responded with random hand gestures to imply that I was deaf, to which he nodded and looked dead-ahead, forgetting about striking up a conversation with the new girl.


“I hate this place more and more each day.” a voice exclaimed from behind me, I turned to find three men walking in my direction, or to a class in this part of campus, I’m not sure. The first man, the one that spoke, was tall and lanky, he had tattoos running up his arms and neck, he had his ray-bans on his face, his gaze moving from one of his friends to me, his eyes met mine and held them there for a few seconds before a smile spread across his lips as he continued talking. His other friend, shorter and less tattooed, walked next to him with a skip to his step. His hair was gelled up and his smile reached his eyes. Lastly, the shorter one out of the three, he had no tattoos and walked on the other side of the tall man, his hair reached his shoulders. I guess coming to this school wouldn’t be such a bad thing, handsome men make it more bearable.


“Okay. You’re starting today. Get your stuff out of the car and I’ll see you for Christmas.” my mother spoke hurriedly, fixing her white blouse that had a few creases. She gave me a fast peck on my head before walking out of the office area and leaving me there to process what had just happened. I a;ways new my mother wasn’t one to show her love towards me, but I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t just up and leave me without saying an ‘I love you’ or even a ‘stay out of trouble’; but I got neither a compassionate ‘I love you’ or a scowling ‘stay out of trouble’. I frowned to myself, I guess she really did think I was a lost cause.

Notes