Mia

For

"Alright! Everyone is here so I believe it is an appropriate time to start. I'm Mr. Briggum, but you can call me Mr. B or whatever. And since this with be English class for some of you, I'm asking you to write something. Whether it be about yourself, something that interests you, or your goals for this year, I would like you to write it down and pass it in at the end of homeroom. It would be most appreciated, you may now start."

I, just like everyone else, look around at the room looking for inspiration, then I see it. Through the window I see the police station on the horizon, small and blurred but never so clear. I start writing. I write about my dad and how my life wouldn't be the same without him. I write about Charles and Jerry and how they make me forget about only being 14 years old. I write about how stupid having to wear a uniform a certain way totally kills the mood of the amazing plaid skirt. And I finish off with writing about how much being late sucks.

I'm about to get up and give it to Mr. B before not going through with it. When I looked up I saw him writing as well. Is he really the kind of teacher that does the assignment with the students?

That's so cool.

I stayed seated drawing circles on my paper waiting for the bell to ring. I look to the kids that surround me. Some I know from middle school. But most I have never seen in my life. That's sort of expected though. The entrance exams were tough, and the acceptance rate wasn't helping. I'm surprised I got in at all.

The bell rings after several minutes of dragging my pencil in circles. Everyone rises simultaneously and the noise of binders and paper fill the air. A line starts to form passing by Mr. Briggum's desk, and a pile of messily placed papers on top of it. I set down my paper and look to Mr. Briggum and he smiles for a moment, then switches his gaze to the pile of papers.

The hallways are large to accommodate the body of students within, and yet they're always so cramped. It's as if everyone needs to be right where I'm going. I'm forced to squeeze through the crowds and it's a lose - lose. The people I'm pushing through are annoyed, I'm annoyed, and upon entering my classroom, I see my teacher is also annoyed. The look on her face couldn't be anymore clear. I take the first seat I see, middle front row desk and stay keenly aware of the seats on either side of me.