Finding Me Again

I am so screwed.

Monday morning, I am rudely awakened by alt-j singing Breezeblocks straight into my ears. My eyes jolt open, and I feel like I’ve only been asleep for a minute. I was up most of last night trying to contain my panic. I am so scared. I can’t believe that I actually moved to a whole new country!! What was I thinking?! I just wanna go home, psycho mom, douche-bag ex, clingy brother and all. I can’t do this!

                But instead of moaning in bed like I am all too tempted to do, I roll out, shower, and get dressed. Seeing as I want to make a decent impression, I get dolled up. I decide to wear a short beige shift dress and tights (though it is freezing and rainy here) with knee high boots and a loose cardigan. I quickly throw on some make-up and run out the door with my aunt.

                Considering I don’t have a car, and I was already a bad enough driver without having to worry about which side of the road I should be, I take my aunt up on her offer to drive me into school. I get in, and she immediately turns on the radio and starts scream-shouting to Miley’s “We Can’t Stop.” Within minutes, my aunt’s plan to loosen me up is working, and I begin scream-singing with her to “Pompeii.”

“And next, we have One Direction’s brand new single: The Story of My Life.” The radio broadcaster interrupts my jam session to introduce the next song, and I immediately freeze.

They get played on the top 40 music station? Holy shit… that means…. Reese wasn’t kidding, they really are popular… No shit…. SHIT. This new information sort of throws me into a panic, and I quickly reach for the radio dial to switch stations. There’s already enough going on this morning- I don’t need to know that the first people I met here (or on my way here) are also in a world famous boy-band. But before I can change the song, my aunt slaps my hand away, turns up the volume, and gives me a stare that promises death if I try anything like that again.

“Oh no you don’t,” she said, annoyed, “You cannot just shut them out because this scares you a little bit. From what you said, they were all great, and you clearly loved hanging out with them. And they gave you their numbers! That has to mean something! They liked you too.”

I looked at my phone, remembering that I did have their contacts, and had to resist the urge to throw it out the car window. I had been avoiding my contacts ever since I met them for fear of it being too awkward to call them.

“Ally- where they are now… that’s where you belong. I know it in my gut, and you used to as well. They wouldn’t be the worst friends to make.” I glare at my aunt, and she continues. “I’m not saying that you should be their friend because of who they are, so don’t look at me like that. I’m just saying that they could give you advice and help you with your music.”

I have to admit my aunt is right. I can tell just by tSoML that they’re all talented musicians. The song is well crafted, put together extremely well, and they lyrics really get to me.

“Leave my heart open, but it stays right here in its cage.”

……………

                After a 15 minute car ride (which was full of my aunt and I scream shouting) and a quick stop at Starbucks (THEY HAVE THOSE HERE TOO) I am finally at school, walking in feeling like my old white-girl-hipster self. My aunt waves goodbye, and when I finish waving, I turn around to a gorgeous performing arts high-school. You can tell just by the outside that this is a sleek, winning school. I can tell I’m going to love it here, even if I’m forced to participate in all the music classes Reese enlisted me in.

                I quickly go in, and head towards the front office, where the classic, bitchy-type, wears-way-too-much-makeup, desk lady hands me my schedule and information, shooing me out the door before I can so much as ask where my homeroom is.