Notes of Rhythm

Chapter One

Normally I'm able to think clearly, but apparently walking into my first class of junior year, AP lit, isn't one of those moments. My new dark green Chuck Taylors stepping across the tiled floor until I get to a desk in the very back of the room. Emilia should be here soon if she's not already in the building buying her always present energy drink for the old, rusted vending machines in the lunchroom. Part of me wants to shoot her a text and ask her to buy me one, but the other half of me simply does not care enough to pull my phone out of my new black Jansport bag I've covered in patches of my favorite bands, and pins that only the most chronically online people could find funny.

I pull out the fabric of my new red t-shirt trying to get it to hide my chest as much as possible. The picture of Aphrodite on it wrinkles with the movement of the shirt. My black ripped jeans with the chain are also brand new, and it feels weird walking in the crisp pair. My mom insists on buying one new "good outfit" at the beginning of every school year instead of the clothes I normally find at the thrift store. This good outfit also included a pair of Levis because of course the pants couldn't be ripped, and a jean jacket which I couldn't leave my house in today if I wanted to stay in shape instead of a puddle. I reach up and twirl my slightly to long auburn hair which fluffs in whichever way it decides it could possibly want, on any given occasion. To be honest my hair is the most annoying and time-consuming part of my day, well maybe besides the social hell known as high school.

"Atlas!" A girl with long dark purple hair and tan skin walks into the room, and walks quickly over to me smiling so big, you almost miss the dimple on her left cheek.

My best friend Emi has arrived holding two cans of monster, one of which happens to be my favorite flavor, of course it's the pink one, and of course she's looking absolutely stunning. Her brown eyes are big and bold from the eyeliner and mascara she puts on every morning, and her hair straightened down to her waist for what we consider the most monumental day of the year. Her outfit is pretty simple, just jean shorts and a black tee, but she has added so many accessories you can hear her coming from an entire hallway away. Her recently pierced eyebrow sporting some pink jewels today, and that has carried on to everything metal on her person.

"Emilia, do I have to ask if one of those cans is for me?"

She sighs and sets the pink one down on my desk with a thump, "What about a 'good morning' next time, or a 'hi Emi! It's been so long, like I haven't seen you since last week!'"

"Good morning Emi. Thank you for the drink. I'm half asleep, and I think my brain is currently undergoing the process of eating itself."

"Doubt it," She slides into the chair next to me, "Nice shirt."

"Thanks," I yawn, "Where's your backpack?"

"Shit! I forgot it by the vending machines! How much time?" She's already standing out of her seat, the jingling of her chains making the class look over at her.

"Ten minutes you're fine." I pull out my phone and open Instagram, and start clicking through everyone's stories.

"Save my seat!" I look up and see just the tips of her hair in the doorway, but those quickly vanish as well.

It's not like anyone would want to sit by me anyway. I was the kid that people made fun of. The kid that transitioned just at the wrong time, so everyone noticed. Even if that was in seventh grade it still walked the grounds of every middle school filtering into James Madison High School. But this year was supposed to be another fresh start for me. I mean of course that's what Mom said every year, but this year I was going to try that too. The biggest problem is gone, well technically the two biggest problems. I started T over the summer, and I was beyond excited about that, the only thing that possibly could've made my summer better was news of Brent Sain moving away to Washington. No, not even Washington DC, Washington the state. A laugh comes bubbling out of my throat just thinking about it.