My Year in Chicago - Carl Gallagher

Facing the first day

Waking up on the first day of school was weird. Everything around me was new—the bed, the walls, even the sunlight streaming through the window. It took me a second to remember that I wasn't in France anymore. This was Chicago. And today was the day I had to face it.

I groaned and threw my pillow over my face. Maybe if I stayed like this long enough, the day would just... not happen.

"Anabelle! Get up!" Dad's voice echoed from downstairs. Great. No such luck.

I dragged myself out of bed and glanced at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess, and the dark circles under my eyes made it look like I hadn't slept at all. I hadn't really. Between jet lag and everything else, I felt like a zombie.

I shuffled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face to wake up. My phone buzzed on the sink, and I picked it up, reading a text from Julien: *"You ready?"*

I rolled my eyes. He was already downstairs, probably having his coffee or something like he wasn't dreading this day too. I texted back: *"Not even close."*

After forcing myself into a pair of jeans and a hoodie, I grabbed my backpack and made my way downstairs. Dad was in the kitchen, sipping his coffee and reading the newspaper like this was just another normal day. Julien was leaning against the counter, looking bored.

"Morning," I mumbled, sliding into a chair at the table. I wasn't hungry, but Dad had made toast, so I nibbled on it anyway.

"You'll be fine, Anabelle," Dad said, glancing up from his paper. "It's just a new school. You'll make friends in no time."

"Sure," I muttered, staring at my toast. I wasn't so sure about that. Making friends wasn't exactly my strong suit. Especially not here, where I didn't know anyone. Where I was the weird new girl.

Julien snorted. "You'll be fine. It's high school, not prison."

I shot him a look. "Easy for you to say. You don't have to start at the bottom."

"Relax. Just don't act weird." He shrugged like it was that simple.

I glared at him but didn't argue. There was no point.

We finished breakfast in awkward silence before Dad dropped us off at school. The building loomed ahead of us, huge and intimidating, with students milling around outside, talking and laughing. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous knot in my stomach.

"Good luck," Dad said, patting my shoulder before driving off. Julien was already heading inside without a second glance, leaving me to fend for myself. Typical.

I stood there for a moment, watching groups of kids walk by, trying to figure out where to go. Everyone seemed to know what they were doing, where they were going, who they were with. And then there was me, the new girl who didn't even know which hallway her locker was in.

I pulled out my schedule and studied it like it held all the answers. First period: English. Room 202. I could do this. Just one step at a time.

The hallways were packed with students. I tried to blend in, but I could feel people staring. I kept my head down, navigating through the crowd, clutching my backpack like a shield. My locker was at the far end of the hallway, and by the time I reached it, my nerves were shot.

I spun the combination lock a couple of times before it finally clicked open. As I shoved my books inside, I heard someone call out, "Hey, you're the new girl, right?"

I looked up to see a girl with bright red hair and a friendly smile standing next to me. She had a stack of books in her arms and was eyeing me curiously.

"Uh, yeah. I'm Anabelle," I said awkwardly, shutting my locker.

"I'm Tori," she said, extending a hand. I shook it, relieved that someone was actually being nice to me. "What's your first class?"

"English," I replied, glancing down at my schedule. "Room 202."

"Oh, me too! I'll show you where it is," Tori offered, turning and motioning for me to follow her.

"Thanks," I said, feeling a bit better now that I wasn't completely alone.

As we made our way through the halls, she chattered on about the teachers and how strict the principal was. I nodded along, grateful she wasn't expecting me to say much. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

We got to the classroom just as the bell rang. Inside, students were already settling into their seats. I scanned the room for an open desk and quickly slid into one near the back. Tori waved and sat down a few rows ahead.

The teacher, a tall man with glasses, stood at the front of the room, scribbling something on the board. "All right, class, settle down," he said without looking up.

I slumped in my seat, trying to disappear. The last thing I wanted was to draw any attention to myself.

But, of course, that didn't work.

"Before we get started, we have a new student joining us today," the teacher announced, glancing in my direction. "Anabelle Kim, why don't you introduce yourself?"

I froze, feeling the eyes of the entire class on me. My heart pounded in my chest as I stood up awkwardly. "Uh, hi. I'm Anabelle. I just moved here from France."

A couple of kids whispered to each other, and I caught one guy in the back smirking. Great. This was exactly what I didn't want.

"Welcome, Anabelle," the teacher said, giving me a nod before moving on with the lesson.

I sat back down, my face burning. Tori gave me a sympathetic smile from across the room, but I just wanted to disappear. The rest of the class passed in a blur of words I wasn't paying attention to. All I could think about was how awkward I felt.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was exhausted. Tori found me in the hallway again and dragged me to the cafeteria. "You'll get used to it," she said as we sat down at a table near the back.

"Sure," I muttered, picking at my food. The truth was, I didn't know if I'd ever get used to it. This school. This city. This new life.

But I didn't really have a choice, did I?