Firsts

First Period

Stay calm, I tell myself as I stroll as casually as possible into the admins building of my new high school in Maryland. The big sign on the front of the building says Mergenthaler High School. Maybe I'll just call it Merg High or something. When I walk through the doors, I'm greeted by a secretary, my homeroom teacher, and the principal. Now, I've never been to a high school, but from what I know from television, I don't think that this is normal. "Hello," the secretary says cheerfully in a high-pitched, squeaky voice. I nod and say "Hey." The principal extends his hand and I double check his name tag just to make sure that this is him. I was pretty sure that this is what Annabelle had described. I take his hand and he firmly grasps mine in a confident and friendly manor, shaking my hand twice and then dropping it.

"Hi, I'm Mrs. Wolfsbane. I'm your homeroom teacher and English teacher." "I know," I say stupidly, blushing. "I looked up your picture on the website last night so I wouldn't get lost." She laughs, grinning at me. "If you need any help with finding your other classes, I'm happy to oblige." I smile back, thankful to have such a nice teacher for first period. She turns to the principal and the secretary. "I can take it from here. I'll show her her locker and then take her to my class." The other two nod in agreement. "Have a nice day," the chipper secretary calls as I walk out the door knowing three more people than this morning. 

First block is surprisingly easy. My mother has been teaching me English at least a level higher than this, so I'm sure this class will be easy. After class, Mrs. Wolfsbane points me in the direction of Mr. Howard, my Biology teacher. I smile and thank her. "No problem," she tells me. "If you need anything else, you can always come to me." 

"I'll take you up on that," I warn. She laughs. 

"Good. It was wonderful getting to know you Miss. Lark." 

"You, too," I reply, laughing. 

I leave English class in a great mood, but when I step foot into science class, the mood quickly changes. My teacher, Mr. Howard, is standing at the front of the room, my name's on the board, and he's motioning for me to come to the front of the room. I was really hoping we could skip the cheesy introductions today, because I'm extremely shy. I shuffle my feet to the front of the room, my face burning. 

"Hello, Skylar," he says, extremely chipper, his eyes crinkling and his bald head shining. "It's wonderful to meet you." He turns to the class. 

"Class. This is Skylar Lark. She's never been to a public school so make sure this is a welcome environment for her on her first day." I flush even deeper. 

"So, Skylar, what kind of schooling did you have before this?" he questions. 

"My mom homeschooled me." 

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but you're awfully pale. Is that genetic?" 

"I'm not sure. It might have something to do with the fact that I was never allowed outside my house after I was four." 

"Why is that?" he asks, genuinely curious. I really don't want to get into that story, so I just say "It's personal." 

"Oh," he says. "Well, how have you remained so healthy? Exercise and sunlight wise?" 

"Well, we had an indoor gym that I used for exercise, and I spent a lot of time around windows. One of the walls in my bedroom was made entirely of glass, and the windows were open forty percent of the time." 

"Fascinating..." he says, his voice trailing off. "Well, what brings you here?"

"My mother died last night," I whisper, my voice blank of emotion.

He looks embarrassed. "Yes, well, why don't you sit there, next to Julia."

I nod and take my seat quietly. I only half listen as he gives his lecture on frog parts or something. My mom has already taught me two chapters ahead of this, so I won't need to pay much attention for a while. His voice drones on and on and I daydream about singing with Idina Menzel and Amanda Seyfried, two of my favorite actresses. After class, Julia stops me. 

"Hi. I'm Julia!" she says enthusiastically.

"Hey," I return tentatively.

"What class do you have next?" I show her my schedule. Gym.

"Hey! Me, too. Walk with me."

Julia jabbers on and on about the best fro-yo places in Baltimore and tv shows that I've never seen. When we walk into gym class, a short woman in sweatpants with a whistle around her neck and a harsh expression plastered across her face thrusts me a bag of clothes. Julia must see the confused expression on my face, so she grabs my arm and drags me behind her. When we're far enough away, she whispers "We're supposed to dress out." 

"In front of everyone?"

"No, just the girls," she giggles.

I furrow my brow. That's going to be awkward. Julia laughs again. 

"It's really not that bad. Trust me." 

I sigh. After we're changed, the harsh short lady blows sharply on her whistle. "Alright, today we'll be playing dodgeball." 

Some people groan, some people smile, some people shrug indifferently. I start to sweat, suddenly becoming sick to my stomach. It's not that I don't know how to play dodgeball, I do. I've just never actually played. The coach drags out a rack of red rubber balls and rolls it to the middle of the gym. Then, she splits up teams. Luckily, I'm on Julia's team. Julia doesn't look happy with our team, though. 

"Great," she sighs. "We've got all the popular girls on our team. They'll all hang out in a clump in the center the whole game and then, when someone hurls a ball at them, they'll squeal and topple like bowling pins."

I frown. I don't want to lose the game during my first ever gym class. When the whistle's blown again, everyone rushes forward for the balls on the cart. The guys immediately start World War III in the middle of the gym, firing dodgeballs like missiles. As predicted, the popular girls squeal a lot and half of them get hit within the first five minutes. Two of the girls even collapse dramatically, though something tells me none of them are in the drama club.

A ball whizzes past my head, pulling me out of my trance.  Alright, I think, rushing forward. This is it. I grab a red rubber ball and chuck it as hard as I can towards the boy who hurled the ball at me. It smacks the back of his head, bounces off, and hits someone else's arm. My teammates cheer. Apparently, this is just the boost of confidence I needed, because after that, I'm a dodgeball machine. Dodgeballs practically fly from my hands, and, with the help of a few other jocks, we win the game in ten minutes. Julia runs over to me giving me a high-five and a huge grin.

"Hmm," she says. "Apparently, you're freaky good at dodgeball."