It was my third first day of school that year, and it was only February. My parents swore to me that it would be the one; it would stop here; this school is where you belong. I went to school riding on my parents' empty promises. Getting out of the car, I swallowed. I could feel the anxiety slowly crawling from my throat to my stomach. Hethero Myxte High School loomed before me. My eyes were drawn to a semi-circle window above the entrance: the same smile of hope and progress my parents had given me as I got out of the car. Fortunately, I didn't see anyone outside. I still had a few seconds of peace left. The walk to the gate was almost the longest walk of my life, just a little shorter than the walk to the gates of my first school. For a second I could have believed their hopeful smiles, but that was gone when I walked through the door. It was no different of course. Wherever you went, it was never different. The red men always drink champagne whenever they can get blues around the reds. They really haven't changed anything. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get an original essay At least all the lockers were the same color. The blues were all lined up on the left side of the hallway and all the reds were on the right side. Oddly enough, they all looked the same, apart from the skin color of course. An invisible gap stood in the corridor and seemed to prevent the two sides from crossing each other. Naturally, I was standing right in the middle. Blues and Reds usually act differently but everyone always has the same reaction when they see me, and these kids did the same. Surprise, surprise, my parents were wrong. I took a step forward. My footsteps echoed throughout the school. All their looks stuck to my face like glue: looks of confusion, disgust and derision. I continued walking. The world stopped. Someone stepped forward: a drop of water from a sea of ​​blues. “What are you?” » he asked. I looked at my hands. It was a rhetorical question. Everyone knows what I am. A few of my kind are scattered across the world, but still not enough to stop attracting attention. I've covered this subject before, but not all the blues and all the reds at the same time. Diversity became unity in the face of something different. This should have been celebrated with champagne. “What do you think?” I said looking at the blue one. He spat on me. I looked at my hands again, defeated. The bell finally rang. People started to move. All stares had fallen, but now the insults were starting and wouldn't stop until I got back outside. “Crossbreed-Freak-Impure-Straight-Dirty Blood-Purple”, the day continued. Every time a teacher made me introduce myself, at least two rolled up balls of paper and an insult were thrown. At lunch, every table was filled with reds or blues, never both. I looked desperately for a place to sit. Purple had no place anywhere, too red for the blues, too blue for the reds. Sometimes when I had lunch alone, I really began to think of myself as a freak of nature. Sometimes I got angry at my parents for making me. Sometimes I had no idea how they fell in love. During the auditorium, the school principal, a red guy, brought me on stage to introduce myself. He was very proud that I was there. He chatted about me being the future; I was what school was made for. I stopped.