one

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// one // michael //

I lived in one of the smallest towns in Melbourne, Australia, it was quiet and lonesome. Me and my family were the only ones on the block for awhile, we lived in a cul-de-sac; on one side of the street was my condo, and on the other side was another one.

It's just me and my mum and dad, I don't have any siblings. I was homeschooled up until now, because today I start high school. I'm not scared, I'm not nervous, I'm just not ready. I'm not ready for the responsibilities of year 9 or the people around me and the peer pressure. It's all happening so quickly and there isn't anything I can do to slow it down.

Orange and red leaves are piling up around the school yard as summer begins to end. I look through the car window and stare at all the teenagers reuniting and rushing around the campus. I thought it would be easier to tell apart the nerds from the jocks and the bitches from the goths by just looking at everyone, but right now there's no way of telling who is who.

As unstable as I am, I'm sort of excited in a weird way, just to get out. I step out of my car and look back at my mum whose driven me. I wave to her and smile at her and she smiles back. "Good luck, buddy."

"See you later," I slam the car door. Holding my books tightly to my chest, I begin walking down the cement path to the huge double doors and enter the school.

I take a look at the sheet the mailed me after enrolment to find my locker and it's combination, along with my class schedule.

It was frustrating trying to find where things are at, because I was so much smaller than the rest of the school. I tried asking people about it, but it was all too loud and everybody seemed too caught up in other students. It was also hard to sneak through everyone, they were all rushing and everything was crowded.

After pushing and shoving, I finally made it up to my locker, which was on the second floor in section B, number 314. The locker had been vandalised and beat up over the years, it was dirty and had graffiti written around it. I opened it up and shoved all my stuff in, and the door squeaked as it closed.

Eventually the first bell rang and I ran off to my first period class, which was Algebra 1. I was never any good at math, it confused me and I happened to be dyslexic and have ADHD so it was hard for me to focus on the numbers and how to solve them. Again, it took me awhile to find the class and I was roaming the hallways by myself a minute after the bell had rung. When I found the classroom, everyone else was already in their places. A few students laughed when I walked in, the teacher rolled his eyes at me and told me to sit wherever. I chose the back of the class, everyone in the front seemed really into the system and the kids in the back didn't seem to care as much.

I laid out all my things nicely across my desk including a pen and a few notebooks to take notes. The class started with the teachers introduction of what will be happening throughout the year and what we're learning. Everything he said went in one of my ears and out the other, his bland voice talking up nonsense made me wanna gag myself with a fork.

While he was pulling shit out of his ass, I used the time to doodle across my notepads and write down whatever came to mind. I wasn't one to write poems or stories or whatever, but sitting in my chair that day I'd thought up a few ideas of typical nonsense to put down.

The bell rang after an hour and sent everyone rushing out of the classroom. All the other kids in year 9 were so much bigger than I was, I felt smalla than a bug tripping through the crowded hallways.

I was late to every class that day, getting glared at by the entire class each time.

At lunch, I sat around to the side of the school so no one could see I was alone. To be honest, I didn't really know how to start a conversation and make a friend. I just figured that if I waited long enough, I'd have tons of friends by the end of the year.

---

But I didn't. 3 weeks in and I was still stuck around the side of the building, praying no one would walk around that corner and notice that I'd been all by myself since I'd started school.

But there was this one day where I was just minding my own business while drawing on the side of my notebook when I randomly get hit with a football. "What the hell," I say, feeling the spot on my face where I'd been hit.

Soon enough, someone comes around the claim the ball, but instead of just picking it up and leaving, they stop to speak with me. "Did I hit you mate?"

"Yeah, but it's okay." I put my head back down to my papers, trying to avoid him so I could just go on by myself.

The kid smiles at me, getting ready to walk away when he looks at his friends, then back at me. He tosses the ball back to them and tells them to hold on a minute. "Why are you sitting by yourself?"

I shrug shyly. "Just introverted, I guess."

He laughs and sits down with his back against the wall with me. "What's your name?"

"Michael," I say, grabbing my bag and putting all of my supplies away. "You?"

"Calum." He reaches out his hand for me to shake it. I do, but his hands are sweaty and he squeezes my hand real tight and it sorta hurts.

"Are you new? I don't recall seeing you in year 7 or 8.."

"Yeah, I was homeschooled up until now." I nod, staring down at my feet.

"Do you like it here?" Calum asks.

"Yeah, it's nice." I wanted to tell him that I'd grown to hate this school more than anything and I rather cut my fingers off than go here, but I wasn't sure what he'd think.

Before he could respond, the bell rings. "It was cool talking to you, Michael." Calum smiles and stands up, reaching his hand out to me and helping me up.

"Yeah, thanks, you too." I say, brushing the grass off of my jeans. "Can we talk again some time?" I ask, regretting the words immediately after they come out of my mouth.

Calum smiles and laughs to himself for a moment. "Sure thing." He pats my back. "See you."

"Bye,"

---

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