Something Special

The Total Beginning

Oakway is a beautiful place with rolling hills and fair skies 90% of the time. There are sweet old people, large farms, a small town center with shops , and everyone knows everyone. The school was on Klase Street which is mostly in the east part of Oakway and quite a walk from my new house. This long distance walking thing was a new task for me to tackle since I grew up in the city where everything is mostly walking distance and if you can't walk there, you call a cab. That is also the difference between great Chicago and little Oakway, if you can't walk there or want to walk there, it is not worth your time. The library is within a block of my house so I spent most of my time there this past summer. The summer was one of the better experiences in my life because I could hide away with books to escape into new worlds never heard or seen by man. That is one thing I wish to do before my petty life is over is tell my story to people. I never thought life could be lived to the fullest without having a full life but I was completely wrong. That is the greatest miracle of life, nothing truly matters until you make it matter and this little town of Oakway suddenly mattered to me. Oakway is the only place I have truly felt that "h" word , what is it? Oh well, I felt it, quite a lot actually. 

Summer was coming to an end and I was not ready to leave my perfect sanctuary of wondrous worlds which I had lived in. My mother had been scolding me week after week to get my school stuff together but I merely shook it off . I apparently needed pencils, paper, and my "creative mind" , but that was according to the school counselor, Ms. Jane Plort. What an odd name for a pretty lady. I met her three days before school started, the same day my mother went off on me for not having anything ready for school. Ms. Plort was a tall, fair skinned lady with little freckles across her nose and wore BRIGHT red lipstick. Now granted, she could pull it off but you never need that much lipstick. She also had long flowing wispy strawberry blond curls that fell down to the middle of her back. Ms. Plort had honey soft brown eyes and perfect eyebrows. She was wearing a nice black dress skirt and a simple red v-neck shirt. When I walked into school that day to meet her, I got lost trying to find her office. I walked in the main entrance and found myself gaping at how large the school really was. Then, I walked into the main office, which was a soft blue and had a green streak running around the center of each wall connected to one another, and the lady glared at me. 

"May I help you" , said a nasally voice from behind the name tag Mrs. Werth. She looked about 75 years of advanced age, if you were looking for my personal opinion, and had short chopped grey hair. She had one of those cat sweaters on which told you her husband works a lot if you're picking up what I'm putting down. 

"Ah yes", I said, " I'm going to be new this year , I am looking for Ms. Plort" I smiled my politest and stuck out my hand for her to shake but she harshly ignored the fact I wanted to give a friendly gesture and just kept typing. She grunted and for what seemed like an eternity, but it was only 3 minutes, she finally told me where she was at. 

"Ah yea she's um three doors down to the left and over one", Mrs. Werth didn't make eye contact and whisked her hand to show I was dismissed. I uttered a small thank you and then set out to find Ms. Plort's office. 

The hallways in this school are very well kept , that's assuming there have been no students wandering the halls since the end of the last school year. There were small art projects cast here and there implying that the school was proud of their students' work. I have found this quite strange that schools tell kids to make an art project for an assignment and then keep it. The teachers themselves say to think of a person it is to be for but then they keep it, taking the gift away from the person you love. I have always found this stupid but what am I to tell. As I continued down the hallway, I passed what I deemed as the science department. There was a lab, anatomy, chemistry, biology and my personal favorite, psychology. The most depressing part of going into my senior year was I wont ever have to come down this hall again unless I need to see Ms. Plort. When I finally found her office, I was greeted with a scent of warm vanilla, cozy chairs and some coffee. 

"Guinevere Cadwell , welcome to Oakway High!" , she said with a super sweet killer smile. Her hands were folded neatly on her oak desk and you could tell she genuinely cared about kids. She then rose up to shake my hand, which compared to mine, was pettier than mine. 

"Thank you, I feel as if things will go well this year." Of course that was complete bull shit but she didn't know that. Our meeting went well and I felt as if I could come see her at lunch and talk as if we were good ole friends. There was something weird before I left her office later that day, she said she had a meeting arranged for me at the library tomorrow. 

" He's a good boy and will show you around school, I think you'll like him, " she said with a wink. I don't know if she was trying to be funny but that is the last thing I needed in my life right now, a stupid ass boy.