"Out of Place"

It’s been almost three weeks since I entered the upper form of high school, or secondary school, as most people here call it. Honestly, it still feels like a dream to me—a world so far removed from what I knew before. Most of the faces around me are unfamiliar, and those few people I do know, I can count them on one hand. Some of them might remember me, but it seems that I’m just a blurry memory to them, a passing face from the past.

I can’t help but wonder how I ended up here. The school accepted only a fraction of the students who applied. Thousands must have sent in their applications, all hoping for a chance to step into a place that promised opportunities. I didn’t expect to get in. I knew that the odds were against me. But my family? They had faith in me, more than I did in myself. They said this was the chance I needed—the golden ticket to something better. The school had a reputation for shaping successful people, and my parents believed I could be one of them.

I wasn’t so sure. It felt like luck. Plain and simple. How else could I explain it? I’d never been the brightest or the most capable, so maybe it was just a stroke of luck that pulled me through.

I needed to find some peace, a quiet place where I could escape from all the unfamiliar faces and the constant noise of the busy school life. Today, I wandered through the hostel building aimlessly, trying to find that spot of solace. The common room was packed with students today; everyone was free, no activities to keep them occupied. The noise felt like a constant buzz in my ears, so I turned away and made my way to the reading room. It was my little refuge.

But as I walked past the common room, something made me stop. A familiar face caught my eye. It was a girl, one I recognized from my past. She didn’t see me at first. Her back was turned, but I instantly knew who it was. She looked the same—slightly older, but the same kind smile. Her name, however, escaped me.

I remembered her from primary school, from an arithmetic class I had once attended. It wasn’t a class I stayed in long—financial difficulties forced me to leave after a few weeks. But during those few sessions, she had been the only person willing to share the abacus with me. I remembered how eager we both were to learn, but she had always been generous with the equipment, even when it was hard to get a turn.

Back then, I thought we could have been friends if circumstances were different. But after I left, I never saw her again. And now here she was, right in front of me.

But something was wrong. Something wasn’t right. As I watched, I saw her surrounded by a group of girls, the so-called “rich girls” of the school. I hadn’t gotten to know them yet, but it was obvious who they were. They were the ones who walked through the halls like they owned them, with an air of superiority that made everyone else shrink back.

They were taunting her. I couldn’t hear all of the words, but the mocking laughter was unmistakable. My stomach turned as I saw one of the girls sneer at her.

“Hey, I heard you lived in an abattoir. How do you deal with all the animal blood? You must be used to it by now, huh? Turned into a vampire yet?”

The insult was vicious, almost childish in its cruelty. It stung like a slap to the face. And yet, the girl—the abacus girl, as I had begun to think of her—just stood there, composed. She didn’t let it show, but I could see the faint twitch of her lips, as if she was holding back a retort, keeping her composure in the face of the ridicule.

Another girl added her voice to the taunt, her words dripping with venom. “I bet you’re here because you paid your way in, right? You can probably tell the difference between home and work. Guess you’ve got enough money to make up for your lack of brains.”

The abacus girl’s response was quiet but firm. “What’s your point?” she asked, almost too calm for someone who was being verbally attacked. “Is this what makes you feel powerful?”

But as she stood to leave, trying to escape the suffocating situation, one of the rich girls grabbed her by the hair. The room seemed to freeze. I saw it all happening in slow motion—her face contorting in shock as she fell backward, hitting the ground with a thud.

Before I knew what I was doing, I rushed forward. My heart pounded in my chest, louder than any sound around me. I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. I just acted.

The abacus girl was already trying to get up, her eyes filled with fury as she lunged toward the girl who had pulled her hair. In that moment, I threw myself between them, my hands gripping her shoulders, trying to hold her back.

“Hey! Calm down!” I said, struggling to hold her steady. “This isn’t how it should be.”

She fought against my grip, her body trembling with frustration. “So, you’re with them now? Is this what you want? To stand with them and watch me get humiliated?” Her voice was harsh, like broken glass, cutting through the tension.

I felt the weight of the room’s eyes on me. Everyone stood silent, frozen in place. They weren’t going to step in. No one dared challenge the rich girls. Not here, not now.

I didn’t want to be part of this. I didn’t want to be in the middle of a fight that wasn’t mine. But I couldn’t stand there and do nothing, not when I knew I could help. I had to do something, anything, to stop this from escalating.

“No, I’m not one of them,” I said quickly, trying to de-escalate the situation. “I’m not here to fight. Just… just think of me as someone trying to help. You don’t need to do this.”

Her eyes met mine, and for a long moment, there was nothing but silence between us. She was breathing heavily, eyes wide with anger and disbelief. Finally, she snapped. “I didn’t ask for your help,” she said coldly. “I don’t need anyone to save me.”

Her words cut through me. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to take back everything and leave the room without looking back. What had I been thinking? I wasn’t her hero. I wasn’t even her friend.

But somehow, I couldn’t walk away. I was tangled up in something bigger than me now. I didn’t know if I was helping or just making things worse. Oh God! What did I get myself into?