Hectic High School Days, Part I

I moved to New York two months ago, trapped in a U-haul truck with a million thoughts running through my head. I remember sneaking stares at my sister Georgia from the passenger's side. I watched her tears fall but didn't say a word. I remember our Mom saying that we couldn’t come back to our Tennessee home. My heart felt like a dozen knives just pierced through it. I was convinced that nothing will take away those memories of twirling in the blue grass, or watching myself grow from a southern babe to a rough-housing tomboy through the reflections in my mother's vintage full length mirror.

I never tried talking Mom out of moving. She had already made up her mind. Our home brought blissful memories, and conjured taunting ones too. I'd play back those pair of malevolent blue eyes of my father, but wish they'd never engraved in my mind whenever I saw him last. When he does leave my mind, my fingers still traced the bruises and scars his whisky bottles left on my skin.

October came in with a lingering warmth from the August temperatures. My new neighborhood stripped any signs of the summer that just we passed. Skeletons and pumpkins slowly transformed each house into makeshift haunted ones. That day of the fifteenth was my birthday and the first time I started my senior year. I put everything behind me and kissed Mom goodbye. She pulled me in a hug, and ran her fingers through my mahogany colored curls. All I could think was, "I want to go home!" Mom grabbed the keys off the kitchen counter and handed them to me. I scrunched my brows and pushed away the keys, telling her she needed the car. Mom simply shook her head and said, "I'm taking the train." Her heart-shaped lips tugged into a reassuring smile. I sighed and reached for the keys.

Into a half hour after the interaction with my mom, I struggled down the halls in my dark ripped jeans, a black fringe kimono, and underneath was a DIY tank top of an AC/DC band T. My silver-spiked black wedges clicked against the marble floors of the school, making everyone's head turn. Almost immediately the whispers started. "Who's that girl?" "Has she been here before?" "What's with the outfit?" I rolled my eyes. It was the same nonsense I dealt with in my old school. Back then, my natural dark curls, makeup light enough for my freckles to peek through, and rockabilly dresses with punk booties were my go-to daily wear. The other girls wore denim hot pants and the latest square toe boots. I drowned out their voices and focused on my schedule. So, I start second period and I have some teacher name Mr. Briggs for AP English. Great. I spotted the room number on my schedule then started my hunt. This is going to be a long semester.

I found myself on the third floor, going round and round in circles. Constantly, I asked, "Excuse me, where's this class?" "Hey, can you help find this room number?" The only responses I got were smug smiles and heads shaking no, literally wrong directions (to the point where I ended up on a different floor), or people flat out ignoring me but had the time and effort to say, "Find someone else! I'm late!" Well, Toto, we're sure not in Kansas anymore. I whipped out my cell phone as my thumbs already pulled up Mom's number.

Me: i hate school already

Mamabear: the day hasn't even started

Me: ik

Mamabear: ???

Me: i can't find my stupid classroom and no one wants to help me

Mamabear: ask one of the deans or teachers there

Me: idk what they even look like!!

As I texted this, my commonsense must've flew out the window. In the next second, I was sprawled on the floor with someone toppled next to me. By the time I realized what happened, another pair of hands hooked under my pits then helped me to my feet. "Oh my gosh, thanks," I said, once I regained my balance. I looked over my shoulder and was met by two deep dark eyes and a handsome face. He had a sharp jawline and a toothy smile that could win anyone's over. Dark hair fell over his right brow but the sides of his head were trimmed. If you asked me, I'd say he reminds me of those biker boys back home. "Maybe walking and texting is not your best skill," he joked. I rolled my eyes, but his voice couldn't stop me from me smiling. It's kind of hard to explain—smooth, laid-back, masculine. I don't know. I just thought it was really hot.

"Sorry about that," I said. My grin couldn't help but to show how embarrassed I felt. My cheeks burned.

"I'm Calvin, by the way," he said. Then asked, "Are you okay?"

"Hellooo, I'm dying down here!" a small voice squeaked.

Calvin and I looked back to see two other girls. One was on the floor like a squashed bug, with blonde strands sticking out everywhere, as books and our purses surrounded her head. Her eyes narrowed at us but her glossed lips tugged in a smile. I glanced back at the hottie behind me, then at her. Of course, my heart sank to my stomach. Standing over the blondie was much taller one with dyed pastel hair and black roots, a mini black panama hat and an outfit fit for a grunge model. Her hazel eyes smiled and peeked from under lush lashes.

"Whoops," said Calvin. His cheeks turned red and a goofy grin plastered his face. Him and the pastel haired girl helped the blonde to her feet. I crouched to my knees then proceeded to grab scattered books, phones and schedules. The others helped, while the blonde and I grabbed everything we owned from the stack. Once my bag was on my shoulder and my phone in my hand, I said to the three of them, "Thank you so much." Then I turned to the blonde haired one and flashed an apologetic smile. "Sorry for that," I said. "I didn't see where I was going."

She let out a laugh. "It's okay," she said. "It's actually my fault. I'm the clumpiest girl in the school, so sprawling on the floor is my norm."

The others nodded. "It's true," said the other girl. "Skyler fell so many times in middle school she was given a special photo in the yearbook."

Calvin cringed. "Yeah, it was bad," he said.

Skyler shrugged with a grin. "Hey, I have two left feet," she joked. We laughed with her but the sounding of the bells interrupted us.

"We gotta get to class," Skyler said to her friends.

The others shrugged. "Who cares?" said the other girl. "We have Mr. Briggs."

"Of course, Destiny, you wouldn't mind being late to class," teased Calvin.

My brows raised. "Mr. Briggs?" I repeated. "For AP English?"

All three nodded. "Yeah why?" asked Calvin.

"I have him now," I said. "But I couldn't find his class."

Destiny's dark brown brow knitted to a frown. "You didn't ask around?"

No, I stood around and whimpered like a sorry puppy! "The room numbers were confusing," I simply said.

The others nodded. "That's New Urban High for you," laughed Calvin.

I rolled my eyes. I can't see it already.

"We'll take you to class," offered Skyler.

I smiled. "Thanks," I said. "You have no idea how helpful that'll be."