First Impressions

  Dear Reader,

 

            Hello. Oh, introductions, how awkward can they get? Let’s skip the high-pitched hellos and get right to it. I am walking home from the pool, not something I particularly enjoy. I have turned the corner with Madeline and I can already feel Megan’s clingy presence around me and her shadow is colliding with mine, trying to push Madeline’s somewhere else. I take two steps not looking back. Don’t get me wrong, I love Megan, I really do, but sometimes I just want her to go away. She is currently telling me a lame story about how she is going to fail Algebra II, but I’m to wrapped up in my thoughts to fully fake excitement. I also feel quite awkward because I’m going in to Algebra II and I’m a year below her. Thankfully, it doesn’t really matter.  Megan is not perceptive. That irks me to the core. As I walk, down the road, grass separating us, I throw in my remarks and play my part well, but really I’m thinking about people, Megan, and me. I’ve noticed we are very different. Megan is lost and I’m basically her destination. I don’t enjoy that. Megan is just so obvious. Every morning when I walk to the bus stop, instead of greeting me, she talks about some “awkward story,” which really isn’t awkward it just showcases how shy and socially incapable Megan is, and stares at me until I finally have to give up and make eye contact. Reader, does this happen to you? Sometimes, I feel so utterly aware of the situation around me I can control it. Sometimes, I enjoy that and misuse it. Like when Megan struggles to pick classes for her sophomore year, while I am free floating and ready to begin high school, sure and confident, with my rather large group of friends. I’m involved and popular, and Megan isn’t. Sometimes, that makes me uncomfortable, when she is constantly inviting me over, and I have plans with my other friends. When I talk about my friends, Megan can’t really swaps stories. It’s hard for me to feel bad for her and always be extra nice, because she never really sticks her neck out and tries to make progress socially. I swear, if I get to a high school and she sticks to me like glue, I will have throw a mixer and invite a ton of kids from her grade. I will have to. 

 

I say good-bye to Megan, and fear crosses her eyes. What? Should I have thrown in “Love ya girly?” I do and relief washes over her face. She is so easy to please, even when she is worried, which is about every 30 minutes. I repeat. I need to throw a mixer, like soon.

 

            Dearest of readers,

 

            Why hello, please, do sit down, let us discuss about String Theo-ha! Kidding! Did I sound older? I feel older. Why do I feel older? I’m riding the bus to high school! Wow. Life moves quickly. It really does. That realization makes me feel a lot older than my years.  As I walk off the bus, the building seems different, not homey like middle school, but more lively and possible. It seemed like this day would never come. My sister herds me beyond the crowd of students and into the breezeway. Back in middle school, I never saw past the loitering kids and the archway, but now I am here. It was totally anticlimactic, just a big open space. That’s all.

 

            My sister, Lily, is being totally crazy. Asking me all these questions about how I feel and saying stuff about how weird it will be to see me in the hallways. She has used the word weird and exciting so many times I could cry. Lily seems very bubbly, and eager to introduce me to her friends and former teachers, show me around, and just display her big sister qualities. As soon as I catch sight of Jack, I make a beeline for him. We both hug, smile brightly, and talk, and overuse the word exciting, but I don’t mind. Once, I see Shay, Jade, Violet, Jesse, and Tray, I’m gushing with excitement. Seeing every one, is quite strange. Last year, we all looked the same, but it seemed everybody amped up their look for high school. Selena has got on a super short and a lot of makeup, which is quite surprising because she would always talk to the boys that she didn’t wear makeup. I guess she finally realized, nobody thought a little makeup was a crime, so she quickly bought some. I say quickly, because she obviously didn’t get a chance to learn how to put it on. She is of coursed glued to Eric’s side, bragging. Whatever. Selena was always kind of a frenemy. I start see everyone, and I realize how much I missed them. They all are wearing nervous, excited, smiles as if they’re attending a dance, not high school. Before hello’s can escape our mouths, everyone migrates toward the freshman wall.

 

            Don’t get me started on these specific places where we have to stand. Forgive me, but I hate them. It’s not like I’m some anti-society, rebel, hipster. I’m just slightly amused that everyone takes it so seriously. They had actually had a newspaper article telling the freshman where to stand. (I know this because Lily is on the newspaper staff.) Wo-ow. That is why I hate it. It wasn’t some organic process, and everybody wants to stand there. They’re forced. Plus, I’m very squished here. No matter, I go along with it, acting like we’re one of those high schools with cool, student-born rituals.

 

            Eric walks over, and says hi and hugs me. Um what? Eric and I don’t ever greet each other or hug normally. In fact, we have never hugged. Friends, might we be, we come from different groups that never interacted during lunch. Our “friendship” is mostly stolen conversations in the classroom, that were quite specific , just between us. The reason why I put “” around friendship is because he isn’t really one of my guys friends like Jack, where I can say anything. Besides, I had liked Eric through most of middle school, so our friendship was always on the fence between the realms of relationships. It doesn’t really matter, anyway. I had missed him. We talk about our classes and discover we have classes together, including first period and lunch. Yay! I won’t be alone! I shake off Lily, telling her I’m walking with Eric. She looks crestfallen, but when I mention Eric, her eyes brighten knowingly and she shoves me along. When I turn back, she is gone. On our walk to class, we are quiet, both nervous.

 

            Finally Eric says, “Ready for high school? Let me rephrase that. Ready for Algebra II?”

 

            I laugh at his overly frightened expression and we slip into the classroom of jittery, loud, teenagers. Before I can even sit down, I hear a voice. It is Megan’s voice, squealing Maybelle at me, with her arms outstretched.

 

           *          *          *         *

 Reader, as you might’ve guessed class isn’t going well. At all. Megan hangs on me like white on rice, shedding all her insecurities upon me about the first day of school. Um, hello? Who are you talking to? Oh right, the FRESHMAN! Shouldn’t I be the one doing that? Sometimes I feel like the older one. Scratch that. The parent would be much more accurate…

 

            Finally our teacher gets up and sets down “The Cather in The Rye,” an impressive choice for a math teacher I might add, but I shouldn’t stereotype. He straightens out, and I find myself smiling. He is the kind of teacher I want, tall, gangly, slightly awkward but in control, glasses, and a cluttered yet cozy room. He seems like the kind of teacher everybody has inside jokes with. That gives me hope and also kind of intimidates me.

 

            I look over at Eric who is in his normal posture and habitat. Really? Come one, Eric, can’t you at least try on the first day of high school?  Bent over and his desk, frowning, his long finger with nubby nails are immersed in a picture he is drawing. I nudge him; Megan stares at me, and he sits up.

 

            Then Jade rolls in, laughing, with, surprise surprise, Jack by her side. Aren’t we supposed to be best friends? I mean, it’s the first day of high school, they could’ve walked with Eric and I. She has on a very hipster outfit: a band t-shirt with a huge, yellow leather jacket, denim mini, sparkly blackish-purple tights, and ton of tacky, excuse me, “vintage,” jewelry. Don’t let me forget the thigh-high converse. I think (read: know) it screams attention seeking and “I’M TRYING TO BE DIFFERENT AND ARTSY,” but whatever. It’s her first impression, not mine. Plus, she is late. Wow, Jade, wow. Who are you trying to impress? The teacher or us?

 

            “Hello everybody,” our teacher says, clapping his hands together.

 

            “I’m Mr. Andrews, but you can call me Andrew. My name is Andrew Andrews.” He adds for clarification. The class titters a bit and Mr. Andrews joins in.

 

            I, on the hand, have completely frozen. I’m taken with shock. My perfectly sharpened pencil slips from my hand. Of all names, it had to be Andrew! I hadn’t expected to be thrown like this. In fact, I hadn’t thought about talking about Andrew at all during high school. I guess I didn’t want to think about it. Megan stares at me. Eric stiffens. Thank God, Eric doesn’t turn to look at me. I feel my nose turn tingly and my eyes burn. The air is rough and uncomfortable. I lose hope in Mr. A, all at once.

 

            Later, the bell rings. The tension seems to ebb away as the current of the hallways picks up kids and sucks them into sea of upperclassmen. I jump up, grab my backpack, and head for the door. I do not want to be late for my next class.

 

            “Um, Maybelle.” Mr. Andrews calls.

 

            What? I think. What does he want? I smiled during class, sat up straight, and was my usual self. Did my cover falter? Could he have noticed? Calm down, Maybelle! I scream at myself.

 

            “Are you okay? At the start of class, something seemed to throw you. “ He states surely.

 

            What the hell? I though I picked up on things, but he, he puts me to shame.

 

            “Oh, I’m just fine.” I say cheerily, but at the end of the sentence, my eyes and tone are just barely giving off the hint I think he’s crazy.

 

            “Oh, okay. See you next class, and have a good first day.” He says quietly with a smile too empathetic for my liking. He sets my teeth on edge. His relaxed personality suddenly seems superior, pompous, pretentious. It is even worse than adults who are always teasing and making you feel awkward.

 

            I mutter a cheerful good-bye, and turn down the hall. Still walking, I glance back for a moment to see if it was safe to run. I made a mistake in doing so. He is watching me and as our eyes lock, it seems to reassure him that something is wrong. I hurry away. I do not like him. That is final. With me, first impressions are set stone. No matter how much I love you, what I saw in the first 10 minutes is who you are. There is no changing that, because Reader, I judge correctly.

 

 

Author's Note

A bit rough around the edges, but no matter, what did you think?

Reviews

[Owlgirl]

OOOOOHHHH!!!! MORE GIRLY MORE!!!!
So enticing! I love the sudden shake at the end, I'm wondering what someone named Andrew could have done to her, or Eric, though probobly her. Judging by our last couple of conversations I'm guessing he either killed himself, raped her, or both.
A very amazing start!