• -Pulls into the student parking lot, grabs bookbag, and closes the door-

    Ah, I always dread first days.
    The overcrowding of nervous, yet
    anxious freshmen trying to find
    their first class before the tardy
    bell rings.
    The overexcitement of a girl seeing
    her so-called best friend's new
    outfit.
    Pretending like she loves it.
    The slurping of two lips that have
    been apart all summer, due to his
    Monday girlfriend's departure to
    Europe.
    Dr. Polynski's raspy voice yelling
    at two teens smoking in the john.
    I believe he only yells because he
    can't join them.
    I also love the fact that Bobby Micheals
    never seems to faze me.
    Once again, he has some kid up
    against his locker by the collar.
    Demanding money, in which he doesn't
    need.
    -sigh-
    Yay...I get to stop the bullying.
    Oh, the excitement of first days.

    Camille: Let him go, Bobby.
    Bobby: Oh, hey sweet cakes.
    Camille: Don't call me that.
    Bobby: Why?
    Camille: You know why, Bobby.
    Bobby: Sure, but I don't think it's
    reasonable.
    Bobby: I mean, you are a sweet cake.
    My sweet cake.
    -Blushes-
    Camille: Just let the kid go.
    Bobby: But...
    Camille: Bobby...
    Bobby: Fine.

    I don't understand why Bobby
    does that. I mean, I know it's not
    for attention. Although girls, here,
    drool when they see him man-
    handling a puny freshman. Maybe
    Bobby bullies to get his nerves
    under control.
    It's possible, right?
    -pulls out wrinkled schedule from
    jean pocket-
    Ok, first class is...
    Art.
    Nice.
    I guess I can spend a whole
    ninety minutes sleeping.
    The way Miss Trinity teaches is a joke.
    I mean, she goes by the 'book.'
    Drawing circles after circles, line after
    line of nonsense.
    I have to give her credit for the Mona Lisa
    she painted in the local art gallery, though.
    It's rather nice.
    -walks down the crowded hallway, turns
    the corner, and SLAM! bookbag flies off and
    schedule flutters away-

    Camille: Geez, that hurt.
    Strange Guy: Damn...

    I watch as the guy who ran into me, walks
    away..like nothing even happened.
    I mean, he just ran into me and knocked
    my crap all over the floor.
    Geez, what do I have to do to get some
    manners around here?
    -finds and grabs backpack, schedule, and
    walks into the room of creativeness-

    -yawn-
    First ninety minutes of the day is finally
    gone. Spent all of it asleep.
    I am the star student when it comes to
    art. I have won first place in every local
    competition for years. I have been the
    only one in this school to have their
    artwork displayed in the art museum.
    I have the right to sleep, do I not?
    -checks schedule-
    The second order of business is...
    Library assistant.
    Who doesn't love to rearrange books
    on a shelf for senseless teens to
    mess up later in the day?
    Is it not cool to you?
    I mean, Jack and I totally get dibs on
    the new arrivals.
    What's not to love?

    Camille: Hey Jack
    Jack: Hey Camille.
    Jack: How was your summer?
    Camille: Oh, you know, the usual.
    Jack: Are you still working at your
    uncle's coffee shop?
    Camille: No, no, my friend. It has happily
    been labled a 'CAFE.'
    Jack: Oh, very nice.
    Jack: What's new?
    Camille: Just the sign outside the window.
    Camille: Oh, and I have a uniform.
    Jack: What is it?
    Camille: A tye-dye shirt with the name of
    the, 'CAFE' and black shorts.
    Jack: Are you serious?
    Camille: Dude, would I be making this up?
    Jack: I hope so.
    -laughter-
    Camille: Well, I'm not. My uncle says Amber
    and I have to look, 'sophisticated.'
    Camille: It's for the business.
    Jack: Well, I will be in later tonight to check
    out this, 'sophisticated' attire.
    Camille: Ha ha
    Camille: Anyways, what did you venture for
    three in a half months?
    Jack: My mom and I visited our family
    in Minnesota.
    Camille: How was it?
    Jack: Boring, as usual.
    Camille: I would love to visit, myself.
    Jack: Give me a ring next time. I'm sure
    my Aunt Peggy would love to meet
    you.
    Camille: Why is that?
    Jack: She thinks you and I are engaged.
    Camille: And what would give her that idea?
    Jack: Do you remember that email you sent
    me a couple of years ago for that play assignment?
    Camille: Romeo and Juliet?
    Jack: Yes, well, I forgot to log off, and my
    aunt found it and she read the dialogue,
    thinking it was serious.
    Jack: For the longest time, I have been trying
    to let her know the truth, but she won't
    budge.
    Jack: So now, she would love to meet her
    niece-in-law.
    Camille: Oh, how lovely!!
    Jack: Well, let's get started with these new
    books, shall we?
    Camille: Oh, we shall.

    -ding..ding..ding..-
    Break time.
    Smartness kicked it in this morning.
    I thought to myself, 'you know,
    the snack bar is usually crowded
    on the first days.'
    So, I prepared myself.
    -goes to the locker and pulls out
    a lunch box..inside, grabs a grape
    gatorade and nutrigrain bar-
    Sometimes, I consider myself
    Mrs Einstein.

    After a 20 minute break, spent
    sitting in the hallway, watching
    kid after kid drop a pencil, notepad,
    or themselves, I am totally thinking
    about bringing my camcorder to
    tape these hilarious moments.
    Just kidding, folks.
    I'm not, really.
    Third class: Gifted Writers.
    I love this class.
    I mean, every year, I sit in the
    same seat and listen to poetry
    or short stories that need to be
    viewed by society, rather than
    immature teens, as ourselves.
    Some of this stuff, I believe Mr.
    Frost, himself, would have given a
    standing ovation towards.
    It's good stuff.
    -walks in and takes a seat in the third
    desk, last row in the room-
    Every year, on the first couple of days, Mr.
    Schlemmings has these warm ups that
    he wants the students to do to try and get us
    familiar with one another.
    Sadly, I am super shy and I hate standing
    up infront of googly eyes staring at me...waiting
    for the magic to happen. Although magic is not
    real, I am still waiting for Harry Potter to fly in
    during a Quidditch match and rescue me
    from embarrassing myself. Yeah, I kinda think
    that's not going to happen anytime soon.

    Mr. Schlemmings: Ok, class.
    Welcome to Gifted Writers.

    Remind me to talk with Mr. Schlemmings
    about his boring introductions, ok?

    Mr. Schlemmings: Today, we will start things off by introducing
    ourselves. I mean, we have to get used to
    to one another because during this class, all
    we will be doing is putting our thoughts on
    paper, and reading them aloud.
    Any volunteers?
    -not suprisingly, no one raises their hand-

    Mr. Schlemmings: No one?
    Ok, let's go by the list.
    Seventeeth name up is...:
    Do I have a Fischer, Robert?
    Going once, twice, ....

    -knock knock-

    -I glance towards the door to see, suprise, suprise,
    the guy who bumped into me, earlier this morning-

    Mr. Schlemmings:What is your name, son?
    Robert: Anythony R. Fischer, but I would rather be called
    Robert.
    Mr. Schlemmings: Ah, you are our lucky winner.
    Robert: Excuse me?
    Mr. Schlemmings: You get to stand right there and tell us a little bit about yourself.
    Robert: Uhm, sure.

    I sit in this uncomfortable chair and listen as
    he tells us that:
    He's Robert.
    17 years young.
    Moved here from London with his mom, little
    sister, and two dogs.
    Art is his life.
    Music is his passion
    That's it.
    Short and sweet.
    Job well done.
    -applause-

    Mr. Schlemmings: Good job Mr. Fischer.
    You may take a seat next to Miss Waters.

    Oh, fantastic.
    Now, I get to spend the next nine weeks
    next to Mr. Rudey Pants.
    Great.

    To be continued...