Singer's City (Original text)

First Day

I dragged my feet up the front stairs of the school. It was my first day here. Someone knocked into me.

"Hey!" I yelled with sizable amount of anger. The idiot looked back, grinning, but started apologizing as soon as they saw my death glare.

I had moved to NJ to stay in an orphanage with my little brother, Daniel. He was 2 years old, and I was 17 years old. Our parents had died in a shootout in our old town. It had been a big move, from California to New Jersey. However, I had looked it up, and it was the best orphanage, if there's such a thing. There was a nursery for my little brother, and I could go to school. I had left Danny in the care of the nurses and chosen to go to school.

A choice I was starting to regret.

Everyone seemed to be of the stupid, swagster type. Me? I was a rocker nerd. I hadn't met any teachers yet and I didn't know if I wanted to.

Finally, we were herded in to the giant cement prison- I mean school, and everyone streamed to their homerooms. Mine was room 113, Mr. Iero. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't the reality.

Probably because I had my own heavy metal blasting from my ear buds, I hadn't noticed the rock music in the science room. At that moment, someone yelled "GUITAR" and a ripping guitar solo dominated. The man by the desk who I guessed to be Mr. Iero was playing note for note with an air guitar.

Astounded, I paused my music and stuffed my music player and ear buds into my pocket. He was shorter than me by two inches, which seemed a bit pathetic, but he was cute, and his room was awesome. In the middle of each lab table was a rubber spider with a lighting bolt on its abdomen. Most dared not near it. Weaklings.

Suddenly, the late bell rang out. With some regret, the teacher turned off the music. We drifted to our seats. He started calling attendance. My last name was SiDragon, so I was near the end of the list.

"Well. I wish I could cut the first-day-of-school and it's-gonna-be-a-good-year crap, but I'd get fired, so I won't," he said after he finished taking roll call. "Anyways, you're in 11th grade so you can deal with your own sh- crap. GOD DANG IT BEING A TEACHER IS HARD." He shook a fist at the ceiling. I concealed a giggle.

Forms were passed around: Health care, pictures, contacts, etc, along with locker info and schedules, which were the same for everyone. First we had math and Language Arts, both taking up a period and half.

The bell rang and everyone marched to the first class.

Which wasn't any more expected.