It was my first day of ninth grade and I was walking down the halls trying not to make it look as if I were lost. I knew that the ones already familiar with this school would make fun of all those who held a map of the school in their hands. I was about to burst with excitement because I was finally in high school and was about to enter a world of new opportunities, friends, and life changing experiences. I tried not to smile though, and make it seem as if I didn’t want to be there. As if I were bored and just wanted school to be over. I looked at everyone around me, not making eye contact and I could easily tell the different between the upper classmen and the freshmen. The freshmen were doing what I was doing if they were alone, and if they were with friends, they would laugh and try to say things they thought made them look cool. I looked for a familiar face still walking, making sure not to make any stops to look around or else I would have looked stupid and lost. I finally took notice a solitary girl sitting in front of a door silently reading a book. She was wearing a long blue skirt with little white flowers on it, and a white long sleeved shirt that fit loosely on her. Her shoes were many different colors, but one could easily tell that they had once been white. Her sandy, mousy blond hair was pulled up into a messy, untamed pony tail.

I saw her and automatically thought about how other people probably thought she’ was stupid, wearing all those weird clothes. I looked at the people around her and some were snickering her way, whispering things and then laughing. They were clearly talking about her. She obviously knew what was going on, but showed no signs of caring. I sat down in front of my first period class and could still see her. I made sure to look as if I didn’t care what she was doing, but I would glance over at her. Something about her intrigued me. Everyday I went to my first period class before school and everyday I saw her sitting there drawing, reading, or writing, with her outrageous looking clothes on. I sometimes saw people giving her these mean looks and laughing at her. She heard them, I know she did because she would sometimes even look up and would have a hurt expression on her face.

I went up to her one day and decided to ask her why she just didn’t try dressing differently so they would stop ridiculing her. I didn’t mean for it to sound bad, I thought I would just be helping her, but now I know that she was going to be the one who helped me. After I asked her in a less direct way, she simply looked at up at me and said, “I decide who I am, they don’t.”

When she said those words to me, I felt ashamed that I had ever thought about changing her. I immediately thought how cool she was to be able to be herself and not care too much about what other people said to her. I never talked to her after that, and one day she stopped sitting in her usual spot. I never did see her around school so I like to think that she moved away and was telling other people that she decided who she was, so maybe they would be as inspired those words just like I was. I never even knew her name, and she probably will never know the effect she had on me. I don’t give into peer pressure, and I don’t try to let what other people think of me change me. It hurts when others roll their eyes or call me stupid, but I try not to let it bother me and I keep laughing loudly at stupid jokes (even the ones teachers make), dance as if I actually could, and ask questions in class no matter how stupid others think they might be. And now every first day of school, I smile and show my excitement proudly to everyone. Because nowadays, I do decide who I am.