Finally, it's time for your lunch period. You wonder how the friends you usually sit with will react to your new appearance.
After getting your food in the lunch line, you walk over to your table. The three guys are already there, chatting away. You sit down next to one of them, saying hi.
All three fall silent and stare at you. This isn't a good sign.
"Yeah? You want something?" one of them says coldly. You've never seen him talk to someone the way he just did to you.
"Uh...I...think I might have the wrong table," you blurt out in a weak voice.
"Yeah. You do," another one of them says.
You grab your tray and spin away from them so fast your braid snaps around and hits you in the face. Feeling like you couldn't be humiliated further, you walk as fast as you can away from their table. You can't believe your friends just treated you like a total stranger...worse, a stranger they didn't want to even be around. You feel like more of a freak than ever.
Eventually, you find a lonely spot at the end of a table to eat your lunch. You can't bear to look up, for fear you might see someone looking at you with disgust the way your friends did. Every once in a while, though, you can't resist. Fortunately, it seems most everyone near you either doesn't care what you look like or is so uncomfortable about your appearance they don't even want to look at you.
You do spot someone eventually. A particularly interesting someone...a boy, sitting alone at the other edge of the cafeteria, with long curly blond hair and wearing a girl's red, orange and pink flower print sun dress. At this distance he'd look like a girl, but you've seen this particular guy around school before. Not often enough to remember him during your ordeal today, though. The few times you've noticed him, he's always worn that curly hair and some kind of girl's clothing. You'd raise an eyebrow at him, but beyond that you never really thought about why he looked the way he did. You probably would have assumed it was his personal choice...but now, you're not so sure.
He looks over at you. He doesn't have a look of surprise or curiosity, just a straight-on stare. You get the feeling he's been watching you ever since you entered the cafeteria.
Realizing you've spotted him, he sorts his things and dumps out his tray. You want to follow him, talk to him. An optimistic part of you wants to believe he's in the same boat as you. Maybe he even has some answers. But before you can even stand up, he's ducked out of a door.