all-american :: jotaro x reader

chapter 5 :: all-american school

Summer break ended today. Well, for the students already in school. So that means I'm joining the ranks of a proud 3rd year at this small town high school. I would be able to tell what it was called if I could read kanji better.

I feel a little cheated out, to be honest. All of the students enjoyed a leisurely 40 days and I, on the other hand, moved continents, got into several fights with my mother, and brung a lobster into a bakery only to abandon it.

And then on top of that, my mom spent the last 15 days getting me admitted. I'm sure this isn't the same deal in schools located in cities like Tokyo or even nearby Osaka, but while some students take months to prepare for entrance exams and admissions and preparations, I only took about 12 days.

I don't know how it happened either. One day I'm in the headmaster's office with all of my educational records from all time, then a day later I find myself taking an entrance exam with my minimal knowledge of kanji and a brain that didn't remember more than a decade of school all of a sudden. And then an acceptance letter comes in the mail with a school supply list and my mom is suffocating me with a hug.

I mean, this school is huge and this town is small. I guess they wouldn't sacrifice much to make way for one new kid, right?

So back to the story. I didn't get any summer break, basically, and now I am standing at the gates of this school with a gross purple uniform I'm not used to wearing and a bag the same shade of poop brown as my loafers and white socks  that almost go up to my knees. I'd be embarrassed if I wasn't matching with everyone else.

To try to spruce myself up I've rolled up my sleeves and let my hair down from its usual ponytail state. It makes it a bit better.

Someone bumps into me and I realized that I need to get moving and find my class.

I walk through the gates and my lungs and stomach seem to compress, but I push on.

The class system is different in Japan than it is in America. I still remember that I was Room 238, Mr. Strasinski's for homeroom and now I guess I'm 3-C.

There are cubbies for us to change shoes in, which is a bit silly to me because I haven't put anything in a cubby since 2nd grade. I slip off my loafers and slip on these nicer white slipper-things and make my way inside.

Like in America, the hallway on the main floor is bustling with people. Some people are catching up, others are trying to find their class, others were reading and walking as if they knew every hallway already and a first year ran into a locker. Which was funny.

I climb the stairs with a few other people and find floor C, then room 3. The hallways up here are a bit less stuffy but still pretty busy.

I walk into class and everyone is either sitting on a desk talking to each other, leaning against the walls and hanging out or sitting alone at their desk, reading. I pick an empty desk by the window and set my beg on the floor.

I tap my feet against the laminate and space out. The window is half open, so the breeze enters the room, and I can see the whole courtyard from here. It's nice. I'm glad I could get a spot.

I ended spacing out for a while, because before I knew it, the sliding door slammed open and everyone bustled to their seats. I turned my head and sat up a little straighter because I was already in my seat.

A teacher walks in. He seems fairly young, maybe early 40's? We greet him as Mr. Matsuo and class starts. "Alright!" He cheerfully says, "let's go around the room and introduce ourselves to catch up!"

I groan. This is always the worst part of the first day of school, just because it wastes time and no one cares in the end anyways.

A few of the first students at the front stand up. They talk about summer festivals and out of town trips and visiting family and whatnot. Typical.