Remember Me

CHAPTER 1

First days of school should be the greatest beginning life ever throws at you.
It's not.
Schedule in hand, I follow the principal down the hall. He's an aging man with a bald spot that shows clearly under his bad comb-over. Hall after hall we walk at a quickened pace. I almost have to run to keep up. Who knew fat, short, old men could walk that fast. Grey lockers line the walls and posters over the top of them. Some advertise plays or concerts, others show football games or tennis matches, but they all encourage you to take part in one activity or another. So basically, this school is all about teamwork and rainbows; wonderful.
Finally we come to a class room labeled Biology. The class is already halfway in session when the principal barges in uninvited and without knocking. How rude! All at once 27 heads snap up and their eyes settle on me, a regular Plain Jane. It's unnerving when you have this many pairs of eyes staring at you. They're all different colors, shades, and sizes, each with a different intensity. With all eyes on me, I feel the blush start from my toes and make its way up to my neck and face. Someone in the back sniggers and whispers something to his neighbor who replies with more laughter.
Great, just great. I mean, I don't know if they're laughing at me or not, but judging by the way they keep glancing at me, I'm going to take a lucky guess and say it's about me. Who knows? It cook be about the guy with so many pimples and zits, he looks like a living connect the dot game. Or it could be the girl with so much make-up, she's a walking, talking Barbie doll. Or it could be the new, wacky looking girl who rolled into town like... like something that rolls into town. That girl would be me.
The biology teacher and the principal talk in hushed whispers while the class continues to stare me down. I feel like lasers are pointed at me and if I make the wrong move, they'll burn right through me. Is it hot in here? No, it's just me panicking. Pull it together, I tell myself. No need to have a nervous breakdown in front of all these new class mates. You don't even know them for crying out loud! I hug the bulky text books to my chest as I wait for the two geezers to stop talking. Hopefully, they'll finish soon before my arms fall off.
Finally, after what seems minutes have stretched into years of waiting, the principal leaves quickly and my new history teacher comes towards me and reaches out to shake my hand. He has a hand grip that could crush rocks, if he wanted to and beady eyes that stare you down and pull your darkest secrets out of your very soul. Think positive, I try to remind myself.
"Welcome to Biology. I'm your teacher Mr. Michael Deseen. I hope you enjoy Biology. According to your past grades you excelled in science which is really good. This class is going to be a lot of work and difficult, too. However, I'm sure if you work hard, it will turn out all right in the end." Man, this guy really likes to ramble. Of course, I already knew all of this. My mother and the principal have all already told me, but I didn't want to tell him that. There's no need in making things more awkward than they already are.
Once he's finished talking he turns to the class and to my utter humiliation announces my oh-so-obvious arrival. "Please help me in welcoming our new student... I'm sorry, what's your name again?"
It takes me a moment to realize he's asking me. Once I say my name it comes out a stutter and so silent I don't think he really heard it.
"Please welcome Charlotte to the class. Charlotte, there is a seat over there if you'd like to take a seat please." He says patting my back awkwardly which makes me want to sit down all the more.
After taking my seat, I try to remember what breathing feels like. Today is supposed to be a good day right? It's supposed to be full of new beginnings and new experiences. Right? Should I talk to someone and make a new friend? I'm supposed to make new friends right? Someone please tell me I'm right.

It isn't until lunch that someone bothers to talk to me, although I don't know why I'm complaining. I didn't bother talking to anyone. As I'm sitting there alone eating my pack lunch and reading the latest novel, someone slides abruptly into the bench next to me pushing me down the bench.
Before I can finish chewing the person speaks. The voice is female, squeaky and uncontrollably fast. She says, "Hey, I'm Samantha. I hate that name so call me Sam."
"I'm Charlie," I say skipping the full name as well.
"Yeah, cool. So, what's the book?"
"Something I just picked up-"
"Who reads now a day, anyway? I mean, with all the social media like Instagram, twitter and so on, who finds the time to read? I mean, don't get me wrong. Reading is cool and all but it's not me, you know? Anyway, nice lunch! The school lunch sucks! Take it from me. By the way, where are you from? And why do you sit by yourself? It's no fun if you don't have anyone to talk to. Trust me, no one else will admit it, but it's true. You can see it in the way everyone sits with someone. You're kinda the odd one out, you know that, right?" Yippee. Another Chatty Cathy, yet again. Is it just me or is this school filled with them? And is it just me, or does she demand that I trust her on everything she says. Lady, I just met you.
I finally interrupt Sam by saying, "I'm from Monroe, Washington and I sit by myself because I don't know anyone here yet."
"Well, now you know me. So... Are you doing anything after school today? Some of the girls and I are going to the mall." She hooks her dainty thumb over her back pointing to a group of overly perky, rich girls. She then continues her speech, "And I don't like to shop or anything, but maybe we could eat food at the food court and they have a Barnes and Noble so you could nerd out there if you want. They have tons of books. You'd love it!" She punches me in the shoulder as she says this. Is that supposed to be kind or what? Sam has a way of speaking that makes you feel like if you played it in slow motion, she would speak normally. She's nice and all, but she's making me feel awkward. I wish she'd stop.
Honestly, I'd rather not go with her, or any of them for that matter. I should be making friends, but I had so hopped it would be someone other than people like her. I think I'd rather do almost anything else so I tell her the truth... I think. "I'm sorry, but my mom needs help unpacking and it's a big process so I need to be there."
"Yeah, it's cool. Don't worry about it." She doesn't sound hurt, but she doesn't sound like she completely believes me, either.
A perky girl from the table Sam came from calls out in a high laugh I imagine all girls envy. "Catch you later, ok?" Sam runs over to her and rejoins her circle. I can hear their laughs as they rise up and beg the attention of every person in the room.
Did she buy it? I think as she gets up and runs after some friends who share a joke. I finish my lunch and then get ready to go to my next class. What I said wasn't lying. I do need to continue unpacking, but all the necessary stuff is already unpacked. It's not the full truth and it's not a lie either. The point is she bought it, I hope, and that's good enough for me.

When I walk through the door my mom is baking again and the delicious aroma makes it way up through my nose and tingles my senses.
"Mom?" I call setting my backpack down with a satisfying thud.
"In the kitchen!" She calls out in her sing-song voice that I love. "How was school? Did you make any friends?"
"Sorta," I tell her. I should make her happy and say yes. After all we've been through with the recent divorce and the move and all she'd love to hear that. "I met a girl named Sam. She likes to talk and I swear, mom, she's the fastest talking person I know! If talking was an Olympic sport, she'd win all three medals!"
My mom throws her head back and laughs. Was what I said really that funny? "Oh, sweetheart! It sound like you like her already! Would you mind sorting through those photo albums? They're in the living room and I want to put them on the shelf. Thanks honey." A kiss lands on the top of my head and a smile spreads itself across my face; I love my mom.
I walk into the creamy yellow living room with its fake wooden floors and big heavy drapes. There are a few pieces of furniture here and there but mostly boxes that still need to get unpacked. As I go through them I look at all the pictures in the albums. One thing is for sure, it's always just me and mom. My dad was never there and when my mom found him cheating it was the last straw for her. The divorce didn't really bother me much though since he was never there and he never really treated me kindly. He always called me four eyes because I wear glasses. Sadly I inherited his black curly hair, but my green eyes are all from my mom and so is the rest of my face. Picture after picture of me and my mom riding horses, going to the park and just doing whatever, my dad is nowhere to be seen. I guess it's also a good thing because now we don't have to cut him out or get rid of the pictures, either.
Is he really a father to me if he was never there? Sometimes I wonder this simply because I think it's true. And while yes, it's true that he contributed to my genes and helped to make me alive, after he found out my mom was pregnant with me he just stopped caring, according to my mom.
A few minutes after I finish sorting through and cleaning up, my dog, Bowser, comes running through knocking over the piles I just set up. It's great that he's happy to see me and all, but really? I just made those! Thankfully my mom comes and saves me. I know Bowser is getting older, but sometimes he just ruins everything. He happily lets slobber dribble down onto the floor and lays down with a slide and a plop across my lap, feet up. If he thinks he's getting a belly rub after he ruined my piles, he's wrong! Ok, maybe one scratch...
Even though he knocked over my piles, I still love him not matter what.