Popularity comes in many different shapes and forms. Some people have the kind of popularity that makes people just want to be around them all the time. Others have the kind of popularity you get when you're gorgeous. Some people even have sports popularity; which is the kind of popularity you get when people look up to you because you're an athlete. Then there's the preppy girl, who other girls all want to be like. That's the way popularity has always been, and probably the way it always will be. But what do you have when you don't qualify for any of these? I was always the girl who sat in the front row at school, who had curly, untamable hair, huge glasses, a puny anorexic looking body, and a spacer since one of her teeth were completely behind the other. Curly hair blowing in the slight fall wind, I waited with my Tinkerbell backpack, anxious for first grade to start. As I impatiently jumped up and down, a girl stared at me weirdly. I stopped jumping, surprised. Nobody had ever looked at me that way. And I didn't even do anything- I was just excited. And there was nothing wrong with being excited, was there? Well, anyways, the bus finally came, and I hopped up the stairs, smiling at the thump sounds my shiny new shoes made as I hit the steps. My mom had proudly bought me these new shoes at a local Fred Meyer's, and I was excited to wear them. I sat down in the first seat I saw that was empty, then smiled as the bus started up. To my surprise, when the kids who came onto the bus looked at me and saw my bulging smile, they gave me the same look as the girl who I saw when I was waiting. By the time we got to school, my smile had disappeared. Was my yellow and green new dress and wiggly pigtails too much for my first day? I sat at the first seat I saw, and put my head down. First grade wasn't exactly going as I thought it would. The teacher, Miss Finch seemed nice enough, but I didn't pay much attention to what she was saying. Soon, Miss Finch was handing out crayons and pieces of paper, and told us to draw a picture of our family. Easy enough. I finished before anyone else had, and showed my picture to Miss Finch. "Very good, Leslie; why don't you help Veronica?" she led me over to the girl I saw the bus-stop, and walked away, leaving me at the table. The girl gave me the same look that she did this morning. I felt like I was going to cry, but I tried to introduce myself the way mom had taught me. "Hi, I'm Leslie. What's your name?" "She already told you, stupid. My name is Veronica." She spoke. I flinched, and then scowled. "Don't say that! That's a bad word!" "What word?" "The S word!" "Stupid?" "Yes! Be quiet; the teacher might hear you!" "Don't be a tattletale." she spoke, now matching my scowl. "I'm not going to!" I cried. Miss Finch was suddenly at my side. "Is there a problem here?" she asked gently. "Yes; tell Leslie to go away; she's bothering me!" Veronica said. Miss Finch took my hand and led me back to my table, where I sat alone. For the rest of the day, the other kids completely avoided me, and when I walked past a group of girls at recess, they called me weird because I wouldn't get on the monkey bars. A girl even tried to push me off the swing, calling me a tattletale, and saying that was mean to Veronica today. When the bus came to pick us up, I sat in the front seat, next to the bus driver again. I was quiet during the whole ride. When I got home, my mom was waiting for me with milk and cookies at the table. "How was school?" "Fine." "Did you make any new friends?" "No." "Oh." She said. "Well, I'm sure you'll make some tomorrow." "Right. Can I just go to bed?"I asked. "You're tired right now?" "A little, yeah. It's been a long day." "Alright. Get into your pajamas." "Yes, mom." I said, pushing myself off the chair and running into my room. I closed my window blinds, and then took off my dress. It sat in a sad pile as I put on my nightshirt and shorts. I wiggled under the covers, and cried until I fell asleep. The year went on pretty much the same, if not, worse, since everyone found out that I was completely uncoordinated in P.E. but Veronica gave me the same dirty looks every day, and soon I got used to it. The same group of girls who had teased me on the first day of school teased me more and more each day, making harsh comments on my frizzy hair. Eventually, I started believing the comments, and feeling really self-conscious. I got tired of being called Frizzhead and Tattletale, so I started spending time down at a low hill at the end of the field. There I would dig in the soft sand, looking for worms to poke at, or rolley-pollies to play with. It was a sad way to spend recess every day, but it was somewhat peaceful, and I could be away from the mean girls. I went on through 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade being different and alone. Finally, sixth grade rolled around. I was secretly glad to be in school, but scared to be at a new school. It's going to be a new start. I kept telling myself. But would it really? I mean, I was going to be in a whole new school, but it would still be the same kids, and the same girls who always picked on me. Except now there would be more of them. I knew deep down that every school had girls who were like them, and misfits like me, but I didn't want to admit it. So I went into middle school, without a friend. There were kids I didn't recognize, which was good. They hadn't teased me for five years; they didn't know how different I was from them…yet. I sat down in the front row during math class, not because I wanted to, but because it was the only seat left. A chubby red haired boy sat next to me, then looked at me. I peeked at him, and he turned away. This was the way it was for half the school year; he was always looking at me, and whenever I tried to catch his eye, he looked away. One day, when I came in, he was looking at me again, and I looked at him. He held my gaze, which suddenly made me feel self-conscious. "What?" I asked after some time. "Nothing." "No, seriously- what? I mean, you stare at me every day." "So?" he replied. He still didn't look away. "So what's your problem?" "There's something I wanted to ask you." He spoke slowly. I almost stopped breathing. "Ok…" "When are you going to shave your mustache?" "What?" "Your mustache…when are you going to shave it?" "I don't have a mustache…" "Yes you do. Look in the mirror." He said. I took a hall pass then went to the girl's bathroom. Staring mesmerized, and with tears in my eyes, I realized he was right. Where everyone else had light, blond nearly invisible hair, mine was dark and…weird. Curse having dark hair. I cried for another ten minutes, and then walked slowly back to class. "Is it noticeable?" "Yes…everyone in the class is already talking about it. It's the first thing we notice about you." Sixth grade was not going as I hoped. I spent the rest of math class with my head down on the desk, hiding from everyone else. Since sixth grade, I've felt like an outsider; a freak. Even though I moved to a new school and made some friends, and I'm accepted no matter how I look, sometimes I still feel like that little girl who I used to be from 1st through 6th grade, who was so lonely, so sad, so pathetic, and broken, and is still inside me. I don't think I'll ever be able to get rid of the memories, or forgive the red haired idiot who messed up my confidence completely. So just remember, the next time you're going to comment on something or someone you think isn't that great, think twice, because you never know- they could be holding in all that pain and loneliness on the inside. You may think that I'm miserable and rotting on the inside from what I told you so far, but after I tell you the rest, I'm pretty sure your mind will be changed. Seventh grade passed a lot better than the other six years; I had friends and wasn't as much ashamed of my body as I was before. I'm pretty sure that that year changed for me and all my friends. We became closely bonded, and hung out together a lot, a feat I wouldn't have been able to do if I was still at the other school. Hayley, who was sweet and energetic, gave me advice and was always honest with me. She was always the one to stay up with me late at night on the phone, and the one to comfort me when I needed it. And of course I tried to be her comfort too. After all, I went roughly six years without friends, and now that I had some, I wanted to do all that I could to let them know how important they are to me. Stella was a total sweetheart and shy- she always had a good word to say, and always seemed to know what to do in a situation. If I needed a heart to heart, she would always try to help me through it, no matter how much time it took, and she always knew that I would do the same for her. Ashley, who was gentle and sentimental, was the one whose talents I admired. Her singing could easily make me cry, and her stories were set in a way that made them seem almost real. I wasn't always sure we'd be good friends, but was extremely surprised when we became close. Me, Hayley, Stella, and Ashley are still good friends, and have been till this day. This just goes to show, no matter how long you're on the outside, whether it is six years or six days, it is possible to find your way back.