everybody underestimates her. but not anymore.
The Beauty of
Rowan Jacobson
Hey, my name is Mitchel, or Mitch, for short. I’m thirteen years old, live in Juneau, Alaska, and go to Snowfall Middle School, home of the Narwhals. I mean, we could’ve been the Polar Bears, or the Arctic Foxes, or maybe even the Killer Whales, but no, we’re the Narwhals. Sometimes I just wish I were the principal. Then I realize that if that happened, I would just turn into an old fart who does nothing but walk around the school, give an occasional announcement over the loudspeakers, and smell bad.
To sum it up, Snowfall Middle School, (SMS,) is the most incredibly boring school in the history of boring schools. And that’s why we needed her.
I wake that morning to the sound of my dog, a big German Shepherd named Chicken, peeing on the bed.
“Get off, Chicken!” I moan, shoving the huge dog off of me. I look at his mess and wince. “Sick, man. Just sick,” I say, looking down at him. He seems to be grinning. “Yeah, well don’t look at me like that, it isn’t my fault you’ve got issues.”
I get out of bed and walk over to my dresser, pulling out a plaid long-sleeved shirt and a pair of blue jeans. I slide out of my pajamas and into my outfit for today.
“Come ‘ere, boy,” I say, patting my leg for Chicken to come. He does, his bad leg lifted slightly off of the ground causing him to limp a little.
I reach the base of the stairs and look out the window. I sigh. Another white-out. If Juneau ever has a sunny day, then SMS will turn into a fun park.
When I walk into the living room, I see my older sister, Audrey, sitting on the couch.
“So yeah, I’ll meet you there...Six o’clock?...’Kay...See you there!...Love you too, bye!” It didn’t take a genius to tell that she was talking to her boyfriend, Hector.
“So, how’s Hector?” I tease, coming up behind her. She shrieks and drops her iPhone in surprise. Audrey is eighteen, so, technically, she has the right to yak my ear off whenever she feels like it.
“What did I tell you, dufus?! When I’m on the phone, you butt-off and...”
“Leave you and the phone alone,” I say, rolling my eyes. Audrey smirks.
“Finally, somebody in this house has a little bit of sense.” I smile to myself, saying in my head, Maybe you’re the one who needs to gain some sense. What? It’s true, and you know it.
I walk into the kitchen and pour myself a bowl of Cheerios.
“So kid, history test, right?” I nod.
“Yup. Spanish, too.”
“Oh, double whammy, huh?” I nod again.
“You excited?” This time, I roll my eyes.
“What do you think?”
“I’ll take that as a no,” Audrey says, turning back to her phone.
When I am completely composed, I head out to the bus stop. I hear the familiar honk of the horn and see the faint yellow bus coming towards me out of the snow.
I board the bus and walk to my usual seat, in the back. But when I get there, I see that my seat has already been taken.
“Who are you?” I ask. The girl looks up from her book.
“That’s not a very polite way to introduce yourself,” she says in a dreamy, sing-song voice.
“It isn’t very polite of you to ignore my question,” I snap. “What’s your name?” The girl sighs.
“My name is Rowan Vienna Lindsay Rose Jacobson. But today I’m fine with just Rowan. Who are you?” I roll my eyes.
“Mitch,” I say. Rowan Vienna Lindsay Rose Jacobson throws back her head and laughs.
“What?” I ask. “What’s so funny?” She shakes her head and stifles the rest of her giggles.
“It’s just your name, it’s so short! There has to be more to it, what’s your full name?” she asks. Just then, the bus lurches down our driveway and forces me to sit down besides her.
“You want my full name?” I say. She nods.
“Yes, please.”
“Fine, it’s Mitchel Ryan Smith,” I tell her. She nods, pleased.
“That’s much better. Nice to meet you, Mr. Mitchel Ryan Smith.” She extends her hand and I shake it. Only when she shakes it, it’s not your normal grasp up down release, it’s more like grasp and shake, and shake, and shake, and shake. Only minus the release. She refuses to let go of my hand. Instead, she holds onto me. Not tightly, but gently, almost affectionately. I ignore her for a while, until she tries to rest her head on my shoulder. Then I back away a little.
When the bus finally arrives at SMS, I stand up and all but run through the double doors.
My first class is history, and, of course, with history class, comes the history test. I sit down at my desk and look down at the paper that my history teacher, Mrs. Edwards, had set out before each student. The words swirl around on the paper in front of me.
What major event occurred in the year 1945?
I sighed. Normally, I would’ve known this, but for some reason, academics were pushed to the back of my mind and replaced by a more interesting matter. Like a strange, sweet, thirteen year old girl named Rowan Vienna Lindsey Rose Jacobson.

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