She sat in the same seat in the back as always, gazing out the window at nothing in particular, fingering a lock of choppy dark blonde hair between her middle and index finger. She had an open face, like a canvas, waiting to be occupied. Her doe eyes were rimmed with black kohl, violet circles embedded underneath them from lack of sleep. Her pale skin was freckled with acne around her chin, and her red lipstick had rubbed off on her front tooth, unbeknownst to her.

She took up minimal space, but the feeling she produced filled the whole classroom. Her widely spaced, light-colored eyes roved over the world around her slowly, eyelashes heavy from dreaming. She was enveloped in black clothing, music filling her head and spilling out her ears. In a rare moment of unselfconsciousness, she felt her tongue along her teeth, in search of food that had gotten wedged in her braces.

Suddenly a soft pink glow filled the room, engulfing her. A woman—a ghost of a girl?—appeared in front of her. She was dressed in a rose-colored velvet gown, her full lips dripping with coral lacquer, her golden hair curled immaculately in a halo of ringlets that swept her shoulders. Her skin was porcelain and effervescent, her features that of a doll. Her aura emitted a light that blinded the young girl’s unsuspecting classmates.

“Do not trust him,” the woman said. The young girl gazed up at her, amazed and confused.

“Who?”

The woman ignored her, and instead said intently. “Do not let him hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” the girl echoed. “I don’t understand. Hurt me how?”

“It won’t always feel like this.”

The young girl gasped, and the woman disappeared. The pink light had vanished, life went on. Her classmates hadn’t seen any of it. But the sight of the woman’s doe eyes haunted her.

—By Katy B., 15, California ♦