The Arthouse

Stefano

Why we moved in the middle of the spring semester, I'll never know. I was in the middle of the second semester of my junior year, but now it just feels like I'm starting all over again. My mother enrolled me in the local high school: Krimson City High. For the rest of my life I'll be branded by this horrible bland city via my alma mater.

So I begin my first day at this dull school, this giant concrete prison.

I wander the halls of the giant school, pulsating masses of hormonal teenagers slowly pushing through to their classes. This would already be difficult under normal circumstances, but my crutches make it that much harder.

Eventually, the tide of the sea of students recedes at the sound of a foreboding ringing. I wander around the quiet halls, unsure of where to go and unable to move faster than a snail. Eventually, my feet lead me to a door. I stumble in, unsure of what room it is.

"Are you the new student?" a lady in slacks and a button up asks me kindly. I nod my head. What a time to forget the word "yes." Ugh. I look like a five-year-old. This is demeaning.

"Well, I'm going to give you a buddy to help you around today. Yukiko Hoffman?"

A girl with black hair reading a book in the second row popped her head up. The lady gestures to the seat on the left of the girl.

"This is your new buddy, Yukiko. Make sure you show him where all his classes are."

"Okay," she replies before brushing her hair behind her ear.

"And dear," the lady continues talking to me, "what's your name?"

"Stefano Valentini."

Finally free of that lady's chatter, I sit down at my newly assigned seat.

"Hi," the girl, Yukiko, turns to me, "I'm Yukiko."

"Stefano," I reply, not taking my eyes off the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her start to say something, then go back to her book. She didn't look sad. She looked sobered. That's fine by me. I don't feel like talking to her, my tongue is on strike today it seems.

I quickly realized the lady in the dress slacks is teacher. She went at top speed, explaining complex English words I have no hope of comprehending. I pull my notebook out of my bag and opened it up to a blank page. I try to sketch my teacher, a Herculean task it turns out since her obviously frantic teaching style dictates she can't stand still. It also probably didn't help that I only had a pen, but it's either that or bathe in my stupidity. And I wasn't about to take the second option. I check the clock, an arbitrary task since I don't know when this class lets out. When I look back at my notebook, there's a folded scrap paper on it. I open it up and inside, someone wrote a message in the loopiest cursive I've ever seen.

I can barely speak English, let alone read it, so I disregard the note, lining it up with the far right corner of my desk. That's when I see Yukiko's face crumple. It was the same expression as before, but it looks like it cut deeper than the last time. She buries her nose deeper into her book as I go back to my drawing, but my pen moves slower this time.

I end up writing her a note back; for while my tongue is on strike, my hand still obeys. I can only write a handful of sentences in English, and I'm sure that they're riddled with spelling mistakes. But still, I write her a note that says, "I can't read English." At least, that's what I hope I wrote. I place it gently on her desk, hoping the moment catches her eye before the teacher sees.

She puts her book down to meticulously write a note (presumably) back to me. As she passes it back, she takes a few seconds to stare at me, as if trying to solve my mind like it's a Rubic's cube. I don't know what she was looking for, but it seems like she didn't find it.

This time, in painstakingly clear print, her note says, "How has your first day been?"

Oh, what's the English word for it sucks but I have no choice but to trudge onward further and further to death?

"Fine," I write back.

She shoots me a pitying look. It appears my hand has not failed me yet.

Finally that infernal bell tolls and releases us from our prisons of words. Yukiko waits for me to pack up standing next to my desk.

"Where do you need to go next?" she asks bluntly.

I dig out a copy of my schedule and hand it to her. She scans it quickly before taking my backpack and leading me through the sea of people to another door.

"I'll be a few minutes once class lets out since my next class is on the other side of the school."

She begins to walk away, but before she gets out of earshot, I call out her name.

"Wait! Before you go!"

"Yeah?"

I should have figured out what I was going to say. Well, I'm here now. She continues to study me as she waits for my response.

"Yukiko, where," I pause, trying to remember that blasted word, "sorry. When... will we have... same class?"

I smile awkwardly at my own failed attempt.

"We share our next class," she replies, a slight smile appearing on her lips. "In the meantime, welcome to Krimson City High."