Kenny Lynch, Staff

SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. I knew my life would become hell, but I didn’t know it would happen this soon. It was the first day of ninth grade, and I had woken up extra early. I watched as the sunrise pierced through the hole in the curtain on top of my carpet. I had an hour and a half to spare, so I thought I’d take those thirty minutes to lay in bed and overthink. It was the first day of ninth grade and I already had ninety thousand problems: Would my brother help me navigate? What if I get lost?Who will I sit with at lunch? 

As my head spiraled a thousand different directions, I lost all my excitement. I mean, I was still happy, nonetheless, but the butterflies in my stomach were acting more dramatic than me. 

As I removed my pajamas, I contemplated if what I wanted to wear was suitable for a “first high school day experience.” I had planned to wear long khaki pants with a black belt, a white t-shirt tucked in, an open white button-downwhale shirt and navy-blue converse with dice socks. I thought the clothes would express my style well. My brother wore shorts, a white-collared shirt and sneakers. Ha. Now, that was unacceptable. 

I proceeded to wear what I had on and rushed down the stairs for breakfast. I wanted cereal, but it was too filling. I wanted pancakes, but we had waffles. Nothing was appetizing on the menu. I ran back up the stairs and washed my face, did my hair, brushed my teeth and looked in the mirror to give myself an inspirational pep talk. My mom hollered our names to be ready in five minutes because she had planned to drop Kayden and I off. 

What boggled my mind is the fact that my brother still didn’t have his license as a senior. You can count on me when I say that I will have my license by senior year. As we exited the door,mom said she needed a photo, though not for Facebook. I looked incredible; I would have posted it. If I noticed anything up to this point, photos are supposed to capture the essence of something that was worth taking a photo of. I tend to always fake smiles in photographs. Weird thought. 

On our way to school, I wondered where I would go and who I would meet up with. My brother now practically owns the halls of our high school. He knew where to meet his friends, where to go and what time to meet at. But my friends and I planned nothing before today. I would be stranded on my first day with nowhere to go — I HAD AN IDEA! A lightbulb lit up above my head. I would arrive at my first-period class. I would like to get a good seat and scout for who else is in that class. 

My homeroom and first periodclasses were Earth and Space Science, and it already sounded like it was going to be one of my least favorite subjects. As I landed back into reality, our mom dropped us off and I nervously walked into high school. I first noticed that everyone was divided into cliques, I wondered which one my brother was a part of. It didn’t matter, but I needed a new objective… a game plan: look like a returning student. Technically, I am since I studied every hallway and detour over summer break. 

I made my way towards my locker, passing by incredibly attractive people. As I developed immediate crushes, I noticed my friend group! I walked towards them to say “Hiii,” stress-rant, and go to my locker. I opened my locker, and I started tearing down some of my decorations. I realized it looked too childish to be a part of a mature environment. I grabbed my science binder, pencil case and Hydro Flask. I made my way to my homeroom. I was dreading everything so much. Could this day get any worse? Turned out that everyone in my class had decided to get to class early as well. I found out that the seats are assigned with our ID badge in the spot where our science teacher, Mrs. Cole, wanted us to be. I searched frantically for my ID hoping mine would be at a table that doesn’t have anyone else seated — until my hope was a bust. I was seated next to the top ten most disliked students. I was more mortified that my ID photo was of sixth grade. I cannot believe that our ID photos were from four years ago. 

Anyways, I sat down next to a girl. Iyanna Jones was her name, but everyone called her Anna. Anna is the person who everyone wanted to be but had too much going on for anyone to notice. She used and sold vapes, had access to the best parties and lasso-ed hot boyfriends for each season. On top of that, she was one of our state’s richest families. If you should know anything about our school, Pine Hill High School, it is known to consist of some of the smartest and most affluent families in the state. My family is not dominant for being wealthy but known for my mother’s career and talented kids. 

As the first bell rang, I watched as the other half of my homeroom flooded through the doors. Our teacher started off by taking roll and butchering some names in the process. Then, while she started reading the syllabus, I couldn’t help myself but befriend Anna. She wasn’t a bad person, even if the rumors made her into a villain. She was authentic and broken. Catching up with her was at least more entertaining than the New York Times, but I don’t even keep up with that. 

As our conversation continued, we were interrupted to do a “classroom assignment.” The purpose was to move throughout the classroom and introduce ourselves and our hobbies. If you know anything about me, I will never forget anything. I remember everything and everyone. I knew most of everyone in our class except one girl. Her name was Mia Josh and she looked new to the school district. She had striking black hair and a beige complexion. She wore glasses and a gray T-shirt, and although she was short, she looked even shorter, as though she was trying to shrink and hide from the other classmates. She may have been new, but we conversed as if we’ve been friends for years. We maintained a swift introduction but we only had a few minutes till the next bell dismissed us to second period. 

I had access to all of my class rosters, and I was happy to find out most of my periods consisted of familiar faces. The bell rang and I walked into the hallway traveling to the social studies wing. I entered the classroom and I found Madison Kurdish sitting in the middle of the class. I made my way towards her and sat in front of her. The seats were arranged alphabetically. Since it was the first day, the teachers all followed the same procedure. Madison and I took time to catch up. We talked about one another’s schedule, and I realized that we both had lunch together! Since class was about to end, we went over my schedule rather quickly: period one, science, period two, social studies, period three, English, period four, mathematics, period five, orchestra, and period six, lunch. 

After social studies, I quickly went through my classes, and I was desperately waiting for lunch. When the bell rang, I walked to the English hall and I waited for the next bell. 

We spotted one of our mutual friends, Molly Mayor, and we asked her to join our search for a lunch table. Molly was always smiling cheek to cheek. Her hair was like sunlight, it flowed and shimmered as she walked. Her teeth were winter snow, her eyes were solid ice. She could never be bothered by anything or anyone. She always presented herself to be at peace, but I could tell her mind was in pieces. 

As we found a table to sit at, I saw the girl from my homeroom: Mia. She was sitting by herself so I asked her to move a seat closer to us to join in on our conversation. She said she was from Rhode Island and had moved to Pennsylvania over the summer. 

Rhode Island? I thought. “Isn’t that in Hawaii?” I asked. 

She looked so nervous, I felt a pang of pity for her. But it fascinated me that the mystery girl who no one knew would choose our lunch table for us. The first rule that was instantly enforced was: no judgment whatsoever. You could say anything or be anybody. 

The three girls continued to talk about school, but I had completely zoned out. I looked at everyone who wasn’t as fortunate as me to be at a table with other people. The question lurked in my mind, why are there people sitting by themselves? Either the student is new to the district, disliked, or has no friends to sit with. I was always taught to be inclusive, hence our new friend Mia. 

I had orchestra a few periods ago and a girl who went to the same elementary school as me swapped to homeschool during the middle school time frame. It was surprising to see her again. Her name was Brooke Walters. She was delicate, but her vibrant pink outfits screamed destruction. She was well mannered and well spoken, but always anxious. Whether it was the lack of social skills in a highly social environment or the loneliness that formed during home school, she was alone. As her anxiety progressed, as did time. Although, I noticed Brooke at the high tables by herself. In a way, she was hidden from everyone. She had picked the seat that was blocked by a spiking, blinding piece of daylight that hid her from everyone. I wanted so badly to include her in our lunch table, but I was too terrified to ask. My mind looped through the excuse “What if she chose to be herself?” I find that validating because I am extroverted when I need to be and introverted when I want to be. I dropped back down to Earth where the bell would soon echo to direct everyone to period seven, which for me, was acting. 

I walked back to my locker on my own pondering about whether or not I should invite Brooke. 

Skip forward to a few weeks into the semester, Brooke dropped out of public school and transitioned into home school again. It isn’t my fault, right? I could have talked to her in the orchestra room to make her feel comfortable to finally forward the invite, but I stayed silent and watched as she stashed herself in the shadows. I replayed different scenarios where Brooke was at our lunch table and she’s opening her wings very slowly to catch the wind at the right moment but the butterfly net caught her first. My third week of the school year and I have already encountered my first, for lack of better terms, affair. One problem over with, another one to study for.