Long Way Down

Thick as pudding

The air was chilly this morning as mist rose softly from the patch of grass near the bus stop. Fog muddled the sky and I could hardly see more than twenty feet in front of myself. Several others my age waited silently next to me, looking down at their phones and avoiding eye contact with strangers at every possible moment. Only two of them made gentle conversation with each other, yawning every couple of sentences and taking frequent sips of their coffee as if it were mothers milk, hardly even taking their mouths from their cups long enough to speak. I should've bought myself some coffee, that's beginning to look like just what I need right now.

I expected my first day in an American high school to be at least a little bit frightening, but to be perfectly honest it really wasn't nearly as bad as I'd feared so far. Then again I hadn't yet arrived to the actual school, I'd only just hopped on the city bus. I supposed I have my headphones to thank for that because having them in my ears gave me a gracious thirty minutes of solidarity before anyone tries to speak to me directly.

As it happens this morning I am on my way to the Frederick Richmond School of Arts. This marks my first day as a transfer student from Bristol, England. I pray I'm not the only one in this school with an accent, or is at least from somewhere other than here, but even then I still don't expect too much to come from this day at all. I only expect to get my bearings and meet my teachers, maybe get some exploring done as I hear it's quite large. I think there's even a pool.

I'm here at the beginning of my senior year to study theatre performance on scholarship with the rest of my teenaged comrades. Singing has always been a passion of mine, Mum said she'd catch me singing along to Barney when I was only a few months old. Well I suppose I was attempting to sing but when I imagine a six month old baby singing I just see a potato making noises. However it all started is irrelevant compared to how far I'm come; from talent shows in primary school to singing the national anthem at baseball games solo, I have always adored my voice beyond compare. That's not to say I adore every part of myself, I'm a normal person with normal problems, but my voice has always had my back when my brain didn't.

Math tests, biology, it wasn't a strong point for me but the moment I entered the auditorium and greeted my instructor after a long day I would always forget what'd gotten me down in the first place. It's what's gotten me to America and out of my hometown for the first time in my life, except for the time I traveled to London with my choir to perform in international competition. My performance that day is what landed me a spot in this prestigious school for the young and talented, and had there not been scouts in the audience that day I don't know how I would've been able to afford such an opportunity. Because to succeed in the world of music one must go beyond normal expectations. Everyone knows if you want fame you'll surely find it in America, but rather than traveling to a performing arts school in Los Angeles I'm a few hundred miles north in Washington.

I've been stateside for ten days, taking my time exploring this green and lush northern city, and trying to prepare myself for a life here, if even for just a year before I return home. It's surprisingly a lot more humid than I'd expected. The moment I stepped off the plane and into the long hallway attached to the airport I was met with a warm blast of fresh air. I thought it was just shock from being in such an air conditioned plane for so long, but when I left the airport and ventured outside I realized the air was just like that here. Warm warm warm.

I have plenty of time to make friends, but for now I think I would like to see if I could get through the whole day without having to say a word. I'd rather observe, and with little experience I have with Americans it's that they love to ask foreigners where they're from. Then for some reason they think we want to know how close they've traveled to your country. "Oh, you're from Britain! I once went to France!" Okay Carol, why do I care? I've never been to France, I don't even speak french. I learned German as my secondary back home. Your granddaughter lives in London? Well, Nancy, I assure you I have no idea who she is I've only met like ten people I significantly remember.