Everyday

Arrival

This is it.  Once I get off this plane, I will have ther perfect year.  Time to start fresh.  My name is Virginia Davenport but people call me Ginnie.  I'm 17 and this is my final time moving.  I'm a senior this year and I have the whole summer to make friends before I go to school.  Gosh I hope they like me.

My family moves, like, every 6 months but this time, I'm staying the whole school year.  I should be an expert at this, right?  Making friends, it's practically my second nature, but that's where you're wrong.  Every time we move, we go on this stupid vacation before I go to school; so I never get the chance to socialize.  But you gotta start somewhere so I thought, why not senior year?

I wish there was an instruction manual on making friends because I have no idea what the hell I am doing.  Trial and error. That's my only option.  Here goes... my dignity.  The whole football team is here to welcome me with banners.  I should have probably worn something a little more flattering than a tanktop, jean shorts, hiking boots, and a messy ponytail stuffed into a baseball cap.

OH

MY

GOD.

KILL

ME

NOW.

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I rush back into the plane, fix my hair and pull back on my baseball cap.  I can totally pull this off.  Just act like a superstar, like you belong there.  I dare step off the plane, but yes, I do.  Oh god,  here it comes, left over cold pizza.

Splat on the floor is my breakfast.

"Welcome to Bridgewater, Virginia! Whoo, whoo, whoo!," they were chanting.  It must be a school thing.  This is so thoughtful of them.  Two of them come to escort me to the car.  I think I'm going to faint; they are ripped and hot and did I mention ripped.

"Welcome to Bridgewater." number 17 said.  "I hope you like it here."

"Thanks, but I think I just killed my social life by wearing the ugliest outfit of my life in front of the entire school and I'm pretty sure that no one will ever talk to me ever again and this isn't even the whole school and already like 20 people have seen me just puke and I'm gonna shut up now."

"Whoa, how do you have that much air to talk with?"

"Shut up." I nudge him.  He nudges me back.

"Here's your car.  Let me help you with your duffle."  he says lifting my bag of useless crap that I just had to bring.

"Hey," I say as he shuts the hatch.  "What's your name?"

"That's for me to know and for you to find out."

"Oh, come on now.  I'm trying to get to know you.  The least you could do is give me your name.  That way I can thank you for helping me."

"It's a secret.  Later."

"Bye, Woods."

He turns around with a confused look.  "How'd you..." then he just smiles.  He walks away with a kind of I'm-going-to rock-your-life way.

Jokes on him.  His last name was on the back of his jersey.

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