It All Happened In High School

     Chemistry Class. Mr. Garris’s class, room 507.  My first day of high school at a new school.

    I’ve always been the shy type around boys and girls. I mean, it’s easy for me to make friends-but when it comes to dating, err not so much. Last year, the year before I drastically “matured” (well OK, I only matured a tiny bit…) I had this huge “childish” crush on this boy. His name was Derrick. I knew he liked me the most out of all the heavy mascara, lipstick, and bra stuffing girls he hung around (that of which I was not it; they’ll know when my A-cups turn into B’s) because he always winked and smiled at me. Plus, he said “Hey Abigail” in such a smooth voice! Honest! I ran into a pole once because of it! But, now that I think about it, he did that to all the girls, except he called them babe… Maybe I was just so darn special he knew my name! But he called his girlfriend “Hottie (sometimes Hottie Hallie)” and kissed her neck and cheeks. But I knew deep down inside he had this burning red fire that lit only for me. Yet, my best friends said it was green for the other girls, because red was the coolest color when it comes to stars… but still! I just knew he secretly liked me. They were the least of my problems.

    Then, there was Harold. Ugh. I shivered at his name. Harold was a… to put it nicely… a geek with huge classes and his shirt always tucked in. Plus he aced all his classes and always- I’m serious when I say 24/7/365(6). The problem with Harold (despite what was just mentioned) was I knew he had the hugest crush on me. He would always stare and drool at me. On top of that creepiness when he did it he made a noise that sounded like an “Ahhh” mixed with a growl. Even out English teacher looked at him with a hint of disgust. I knew he would ask me out, but I knew Derrick would too. I had to hold out for Derrick. I mean I had to, ‘cause if I didn’t the next person to take my lip virginity would be drool face, noise maker, shirt tucked in Harold! Blegh. Talk about a depressing day. The two of them were the least of my problems; when I auditioned for Los Angeles County High School for the Arts.

     I’m a dancer. Always have been and always will be. So I decided to audition. I live in Orange County, so it took some pulling of strings just to let me audition. When I was there, I saw some of the best routines in my life. So I danced. I danced my heart out. I got in! But then I had to finish school up with the boy who secretly likes me and the other boy who I do not want to date. Ever. Never. Not in a million years.

   Back to present day. I was sitting in Chemistry with two boys on each side of me and a boy and two girls across. They boy on my left seemed pretty cute, while the boy on my right seemed sort of like a practical joker.

       “So where are you from?” asked the boy to my left.

      “Orange County. You?”

      “Orange County? How were you able to audition? Isn’t this school only for people in Los Angeles?”

      “Yeah, um..,” I pondered my mind for what I should say, “my dad is really good friends with the principal, and he- uh, lives in LA, while my- uh mom lives in Orange.”

      “Oh, cool. I live in the West Side- of LA that is.”

      “Cool. Where do you live?” I asked the boy to my right. He was drumming on the desk with his index fingers and headphones on.

     He took them off and smiled at me. “I live in East Los. That is East Los Angeles.” He smiled to the kid on my right.

      “So, chica, what brought you to this school?” the kid on my right asked.

      “Academics…”

       “He’s asking your conservatory,” said the boy on my left.