The Seventh Grade Wars

Chapter 3: HAYLEY

I sat on my bed, and propped myself up on my elbows so I could read my book. Actually, it was just a mattress because we still hadn’t bought a bed frame for me. Everything in our house was just enough to live. My family had just moved here from Australia just a couple days ago. Just in time, because the first day of school was tomorrow. And I was going into the seventh grade. That meant the first year of junior high.

High school was kind of a big deal. I hated to move right then, but I guess I should be used to it. My dad is a writer and journalist, so we’re always moving around. So far, I’ve lived in Beijing, Hawaii, Italy, and Australia. And now, New York. Westchester, to be exact. 

I didn’t exactly like moving. But I understood why my dad did. If I was a writer, I would probably do the same thing. He’d suck every bit of inspiration he could out of one place, and once he was done he’d move on to another. Usually I thought it was cool that I got to experience so many different places. But occasionally, I’d get mad at my father for dragging his family all around the world. Couldn’t we just stay in one place?

That was pretty much how I felt right now. 

On the upside, maybe I’d actually find some friends here. I was always spending time with my nose in a book, or jotting down ideas in my journal, that I didn’t really make a lot of friends. Which suited me just as well, because people didn’t really like me a lot. I knew what they called me. Nerd, freak, and genius were just a few. (And just so you know, they said “genius” like it was a bad thing.) 

Also, I never seemed to fit in. I didn’t speak the language or look a lot like other people. I had seemingly too-pale skin, dark hair, and thick glasses. The result was a weird, maybe ugly, combination that I not anybody else seemed to be attracted to. 

Maybe this year will be different, I thought. 

I was still feeling nervous, however, so I tried to busy myself by making sure all my school supplies were in check. Combination lock. Binder. Backpack. Because of the things the school had sent me, I was now prepared with my schedule and information about my Side. This school, Emerson High, would have a very different arrangement from my old school. They admitted so many kids each grade had to be divided into three Sides. Judging by the photographs on the school website, the campus looked big. But since each student pretty much stays on the same Side (except for PE and lunch, I suppose), I told myself I really didn’t have to worry about getting lost. 

I couldn’t sleep well that night so after tossing and turning on my box spring for half an hour, I finally got out one of my books—Bridge to Terabithia—and started reading under my bedsheets by the glow of a flashlight. If I needed to lose myself, this was usually how I did it. I read until my eyes were tired, and then somehow managed to fall asleep. 

When I woke up the next morning to the beeping sound of my alarm clock, I saw that Bridge to Terabithia was still open on my pillow and my flashlight had run out of battery. I reluctantly pulled myself out of the safe haven that was my bed and started getting ready for school. 

What did kids wear here, in Westchester, New York? It seemed to be different in every place I’d travelled. Finally I decided on a pair of jeans and a plain polo shirt. Until I figured out what the average person wore here, I wanted to go simple. 

I did my hair up like usual, in two braids that spilled over my shoulders. My dark hair was poofy and frizzy unless I concealed it in some way. Then, after carefully double-checking everything in my backpack, I slung it over my shoulder and went downstairs. 

My dad was reading the newspaper at the kitchen counter (usually the very first thing he does in a new place is subscribe to the town’s paper), my mom was cleaning out the refrigerator, and my six-year-old brother, Jace, who would be starting first grade today, was eating a bowl of Cornflakes.