Her Place

Engelsk! - Om en pige, der aldrig passer ind og om en klasse, der aldrig forstår hende.

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1. Almost perfect


In my class we’re good friends. Everyone can talk with everybody and I swear, there isn’t a single one of my classmates I dislike. We all fit in and I’m proud to say, that this is my class. I like showing class pictures, because we never look stupid like all those other pictures I’ve seen of other classes. It all seems natural, because it is natural. We’re like a perfectly solved puzzle. We’re perfect. Well, almost perfect.
You see, I would call my class perfect, if it wasn’t for this new girl. She has been new in two years now. It’s like she just came in yesterday and our teacher told us her name, saying we should take good care of her. In thirty years she will still be the new girl. She just doesn’t fit in the picture, you know.
At first we all tried to talk with her. She never answered and kept looking over our shoulders, like she couldn’t see us. We kept asking questions, we kept sharing our news with her, we kept talking. Just talk and talk and talk, but never an answer back.
I’m not the type to give up in tough times, so whenever I walked by, I would stop up and say hi. She would always look down on the floor without answering and it always got awkward and it always ended up with me walking away. Great.
I don’t know why, but I stopped saying hi to her. I bet you understand, it wasn’t really worth it anyway. It was a one-sided conversation; I would be better off talking to the air.
So we started making fun of her. I know it’s wrong and I feel so ashamed of myself whenever it happens, but I just can’t help it. It goes something like this:
“Is she dumb?”
“Has she ever talked in her life?”
“I’ll give you three dollars, if you make her answer you.”
The weird thing is that she doesn’t care about it. She sits at her table, looking at something we can’t see or tapping a pencil against a piece of paper. One day I took the paper from her and found the side blank. Really, why have a paper, if you aren’t going to write on it? At least she could make dots or something like that.
I have to be honest with you. Sometimes I think she really is dumb. But the teacher would let us know, right? Wouldn’t we have the right to know? Wouldn’t she write it down on the stupid paper? ‘I’m dumb.’
We would all understand and go like ‘aaah, that’s why.’ We would send her a smile, we would talk with her, she could write an answer back on the paper, and she could fit in the puzzle. Is it too much to ask for? I don’t think so.
By the way, I have noticed something. When the school day is over, she walks in the direction of the forest. Every single day. I have no idea why she’s going there, because there aren’t any houses near the forest.
So one day I got a stupid idea. I wanted to follow her. I wanted to know where she was going.
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