Lasting Impressions

Ode to Joy

Everyone has quirks. Some easy to see, some you have to know someone first. I'm Joy, and I'm a freshman at Seagull Bay High School. Seagull Bay is a remote little town on the seaside in California. We're mainly known for our achievements in academics, sports aren't ever really hot topic as often as academics. Band is also what we're known for. We've went to Bands of America since it began, winning the first ever Grand Nationals. I play flute, and everyone tells me I'm very good at it.
Ode to Joy was my first piece I ever performed, giving recitals across Cali. But my personal Ode to Joy, my root of happiness is music. The kind where you can just mess around and create something beautiful. I like performing to an extent, although I'd much rather do something in my comfort zone, like be a teacher. I don't quite know where I'm going with my career. Either way, since I'm a freshman, I have to march. At SBHS, you are required to march freshman year so you know if you like it the next 3 years. I don't quite know where I'm going in the school either.
Our school is bigger than it needs to be, but it's also very beautiful. We have pillars outside and our own art exhibits, of which I have my own case. All my friends tell me I'm talented and don't need to do anything to get any career I want, but I know that's not true. In SBHS, you have to be extremely talented to get anywhere, but my personal self confidence tells me I don't deserve being the top in my class.
The bell rings, interrupting all my thoughts, and I instantly remember the lady in the office saying I needed to visit the band room before class, and I completely forgot. As I direct my feet toward the arts and humanities wing and slowly walk, I glance around the beautiful school, the light sky blue walls, the white tile floor without a single stain. I'm not the only one glancing about, and the office workers are currently watching the halls making sure people get to class. I hate the feeling of the cameras and the other students watching me. I realize that I completely passed the ornate trophy cases, containing all our band's achievements, that lead to the band hall. Turning back around, I see the director inside the band room and immediately straighten up and look more confident than I am. Me being me, I'm easily intimidated by almost anything. Ironically, I'm top of my class and known for being a genius. I peek in the door and try to sneak in towards his office. Everything looks like it's disorganized. Just like our junior high school, which strangely gives me comfort. The walls are covered with plaques, some walls more than others, but are just like the junior high's white walls. I note that there are tile floors and think to myself that I won't have to work as hard to fill a room like this with sound. Once again, something interrupts my thoughts.
"Joy, how wonderful to see you," says a deep voice behind me. Immediately I whip around to see the face of our director.
"Mr. Anderson, how nice." I meekly mumble. This makes him give a soft chuckle of laughter. Me? Meek? I guess it's hard for him to imagine.
He looks me over, seemingly studying every curly brown hair on my head and every inch of me. I know it sounds weird but he actually used to be my teacher as of 7 years ago. I'm only 14, but I remember him.
He looks at my eyes and says," You look lovely, very grown, mature. Much different than when I taught you as a 7 year old."
He softly laughed. He had a wonderful laugh that made you have to laugh as well.
"Thank you," I mumbled. I had pale blue eyes, light brown hair, a lithe and athletic body, and a thin face. I had a dark tan, golden. When I was younger I was extremely pale, dark headed, and still had blue eyes.
"Your eyes are very beautiful, Joy" he says. "I've missed you being a student of mine. I hope you'll be a good edition to our marching band."
"Thank you," I say slightly more confidently than I feel.
"Dismissed!" He happily says.
"Thank you, sir!"
I dip my head down and slightly bow and dismiss myself. In the echoey hallway, I can hear the sound of my jeans rubbing together, and my black and white Converse hitting the floor, the music notes on them seemingly coming to life in the band hall. I realize I'm really late and run down the hall to the sciences wing. In SBHS we have several wings: arts and humanities, sciences, literature, history, languages, mathematics, computer technology, and our technology center, where they have cooking and more, and where the school connects all the wings we have the cafeteria and gyms. I walk down the biology hall and into my Biology class- late- andautomatically all eyes turn towards me. Immediately I realize that I'm more well known than I thought, and the top student being late is not a good way to start off, and quickly take a seat in the front, right where the teacher is nodding at, and set my backpack on the floor beside my feet. I look up and sit straight in my seat, ready for whatever he says. Our teacher, Mr. Cravitts, looks strict.
"Okay time for roll call now that our last student is here." Mr. Cravitts says. "Summer Anderson"
"Yo"
"Jacob Brackish"
" 'Sup"
"Could we please speak like we took English."
A few students nod. I'm midway into reading a book, but after more names and "here's", I jump a little when I hear my name called.
"Joy Lovins."
I quickly respond with a soft," here" and look away.
After roll was called our teacher stared at us, as if we had no past knowledge of anything, and, rather than giving us a task that would be absolutely abhorrent, he, with the greatest confidence said.
"Let's play the name game!"
His expression had softened up and he smiled from ear to ear. I may be the top freshman in my class, but I don't like to show it. I never study and I'm irresponsible, but somehow I make it work. I feel like this school is perfect for me, and my freshman year is going to be good. The song of my life, my personal Ode to Joy, is only just beginning.

Hey guys! Sorry I haven't wrote in absolutely forever, but I feel like Lasting Impressions might turn out to be a better story than Different. While this is a more relatable story and Different is a fanfiction, I actually don't mind Different, and I may choose to continue the book, but most likely not for a while. Enjoy! Comment and vote, spread the word! Stay cool and deuces my dudes!
-AJ