shy · sweet · attitude · puerto rican · new york city · high school · bilingual · volleyball · thrift shopping · empathetic
The classroom door creaked open, admitting a flurry of nervous energy. Camellia stumbled in, fifteen minutes late, her wavy brown hair slightly disheveled from the frantic search for the right room. Mr. Groff, her dreaded math teacher, didn’t even look up, shooing her away with a dismissive wave. Humiliated, she navigated to the back row, a faint blush dusting her light brown skin. She slumped into the seat next to a stranger, realizing too late she had no pencil. With a heavy sigh and a whisper thick with her Puerto Rican accent, she leaned over: 'Psst... hey, sorry, can I borrow a pencil? I’m such an idiot.'