The Miraculous Story of Harper Lynn

Chapter One.

     Highschool is so insanely overrated. One day in and I can already tell that this will be the worst four years of my life. Not only did I have to arrive at an absurdly early hour of the morning, but I was actually expected to act as if I cared my education.

     Anyways, I got there via smelly-bus-filled-with-teenage-sociopaths at approximately 7am. Yeah AM. Fricking ridiculous. The school I was so rudely transferred to was called New High. And believe me when I say that there's nothing NEW about it. I wish I could still go to my old school in Vermont, where I had friends and bathroom stalls with doors.

     First hour, was hell. Second hour-worse. How is it high schoolers can actually be in HIGHSCHOOL if they don't have the IQ to pass second grade. The only people in my third hour algebra class were a chunky blond kid who shouted all the answers and a girl/guy who just drew sick dragons on his/her desk. Is it bad if you can't tell if someones gender? Either way, the blondie and the other girl/guy didn't say a word to me the whole hour. 

     At lunch, I scanned the unusually crowded cafeteria with zero luck in finding a place to sit. I sure as all hell was not going to sit in the bathroom stalls (with NO doors!) and eat my pb&j so i sat slumped against a wall.

     After "lunch" (shortly after unwrapping my sandwich I witnessed my first wedgie being given to some unfortunate freshman, needless to say I lost all appetite) I had English with a tired looking lady named Ms. Brewer. She handed out copies of Elie Wiesal's Night and a rubric for the semester. I mostly stared out the window.

     My last two classes of the day were surprisingly entertaining. German for beginners and science. My foreign language teacher was an eccentric young guy most of the class told me was gay (although he just seemed weird to me) with a scar across his lower lip. Not surprisingly, that was my largest class. I had to sit between a bald headed boy named Zach and a dark haired girl named Lexi. They seemed to be friends, and I wondered if I could maybe become friends with them. But alas, I shortly learned that they, were Juniors. And I, was a freshman. If theres one thing I know its that the social caste system of classes DON'T mix.

     Mr.Campbell, the science teacher for freshman, contributed only one thing to my memory: his enormously large and blond handlebar mustache. Something about the way it caught the light of the old projector and wiggled when he talked was mesmerizing.

     By the time I got home I was both

A. In desperate need of a kickass cup of coffee and 

B. dying for a long hot shower.

     My parents paraded me with questions as soon as i walked through the door. I only locked myself in the bathroom. I stripped my grimy clothes off my lean but not muscular body and stared at the boy in the mirror.

     My dirty blond half-curls stood in a messy mop atop my head, and dark shadows lay under my brown eyes, making my whole face seem pale.
 I let the water fall from the shower head until the bathroom was foggy, then stepped inside.

     I breathe deeply, inhaling the warmth of the shower as water cascades down my naked frame. I close my eyes and relax my muscles, imagining the water washing away my whole, until I was invisible. I laugh at the thought.

     I stay in the shower for a long time, until my fingers look like pale raisins and the water had lost its heat. Quickly drying off I slip into pajamas and head to my room. I'm an only child, but don't assume I'm spoiled by my fabulously wealthy parents. No, that's just a stereotype.

     My mother is a nurse who works mostly night-shifts and
is always looking like a zombie when she gets home in the early morning hours. My dad, works at a used-car dealership, ripping people off for a living to afford our two bedroom and two bathroom house in the suburbs. They're usually not home, at least not together. But since it's my first day of high school EVER, they figured a day off was necessary.