The Art of Letting Go

I dreaded being the new kid at school. I avoided at all costs, but as it seems, there is no other choice.

I parked under an old pear tree by a small park near the school. I didn't want to take any risks on the "That's my parking spot, dufus," thing. I think I've had enough of that for one lifetime. I've been a new kid over and over again, so I know how this works. People stare at you, whisper about you, and mess with you. I'm prepared.

I had to move a lot lately. Since my dad died, mom's been trying everywhere to get a decent job to provide for me. But I've told her time and time again, no job will be offered to an alcoholic. I try sometimes at home to hide her bottles, but she seems to waste our savings on new vodka when I do, so I stopped and instead hid our money. So far, she found a job as a bartender at the local bar, which pays all right, I guess. Downside: she has all the access of stealing more alcohol, and we've have that case before.

My mom's drinking problem started after dad died. She got really messed up and I guessed that alcohol was her escape from everything. Dad died when I was eight. He was at a bar drinking with some friends, and I'm not at all sure how, but he got into a fight and got shot. I cried for weeks. My dad and I were close, and I didn't know how to survive with my mom. Now, at least I have a job at the pizza parlor on Saturdays. And to be honest, I'm probably providing more for the both of us than she is for herself.

Before I walked through the parking lot and into campus, I checked for the last time my outfit. I know that makes me sound like a girl, but it helps being aware of what you wear when you're the new kid. Dark jeans, white shirt under a grey sweater. Seemed all right. I put on my hood, slipped my backpack on, and walked through the parking lot.

I passed a series of stares, and funny looks, some involving whispers. Knew it. The popular cheerleaders, arrogant football guys, and the hockey team. Ha ha.

I got my schedule and locker number from Ms. Everman, our principal. My locker was at the far end of the hallway, far away from the classrooms. By the time first bell rang, I hadn't even found it.

First period was Trigonometry, and I was late. I just hoped that the teacher would be considering enough to cut me some slack for my first day.

I sprinted through the hall to Mr. Greene's classroom. I stopped and acted like it was a normal day, despite my sweat and messy hair, I walked in, nonchalant. The class stared at me like I was a vicious killer being brought to jail. "Ah, Mr. Miller," Mr. Greene said, "seems you've decided to join us." The class laughed. I looked to their direction and saw two girls whispering at the back. "Well, may be just a case of 'first day - worst day. Have a seat young man." I sighed and was more than thankful. I took my seat at the back next to the girls who were whispering about me. I put my hood back on, put my head down and listened.

I didn't anticipate lunch so much. I knew that being new here indicated that I'd be eating with myself, which qualifies me for "loner status" or that's what the cool kids say. Either way, I was starving. Especially after five periods, where I have to run to the end of the hall and back in between.

I lined up behind a guy who took forever to choose what he wanted. He went from the salad, but that was too healthy, so he got the burger, which for him was too fattening. He ended up with the salad again anyway. When it was finally my turn, I asked for the burger and bottled water. The cafeteria lady put them on my tray, and I turned to find a table. I looked around, but found no empty tables. Not even a chair. When I decided to give up, I walked out with my tray and ate in my car. It was quite a long walk, but passing the parking lot, there was a free slot, so when I got to my car, the first thing I did, was transfer it there. It was nearer, which was good. I took a bite in my burger before pumping up my music. I listened to the Gang of Four a lot. Mostly when I'm alone.