Till Next Time | completed | currently under re-edit

2

2

I struggle to move for a good five minutes as the Principal's words sink in.

A familiar discomfort tightens across my chest. I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk out.

I have never looked at what I go through as something that needs healing. It is what it is. The tide that floods has to ebb away. More than often it is a choice I make.

I check the schedule to see I have a Literature class on the first period with some Mr. Harriet. I tighten the strap over my shoulder and set out to navigate the halls for the correct classroom, with the throb in my chest getting harder with each passing second.

As I stand near my allotted locker, trying to get it to open up, I feel a wave sweep past me.

Maybe it is the group of three emos, the three cheer girls and some guys that look like they emerged straight out of a steroid overdose, high fiving each other on a joke well cracked.

Everyone eyeing me and trying not to make it obvious.

One cheer girl turns and gives me a wave.
I immediately turn away.

Whatever this wave is, whatever it is made of, built from, I am not a part of this. The wave breaks into a shower of foam at my feet.

At one point I contemplate going back home and telling everyone they refused admission to me because I was being an arrogant little piece of shit. But there is no way Dad will go through the trouble of finding me another school. In that way, I don't finish school, I don't have a plan and I sure as heck don't have any of his money. So I choose to concentrate on the facts.

Fewer people. Less shit to give. Cooler jocks.

"Hey! Hello! New kid!" A voice calls out from behind.
I turn back to see a short skinny kid running up to me, flailing his arms awkwardly.

"Harvey, you are a runner now!" One of the jocks punches him on the side.

"Yes yes Steve, I learn." He gushes and jogs up to me, a skip in his step now.

"Hello, new kid. I'm Harvey. I'm the president of the Student's Council. They told me a new kid's joining and I thought you may need some help with the classes."

He snatches the schedule out of my loose clutch unrequested.

"Ooh. Mr. Harriet at first. Don't ever look at your watch in his class and trust me, you'll be tempted to, more than once. Go back. It's the first one to the left. And if you need help, I'm always at the office for some reason." He gestures animatedly with his hands.

Harvey hands the schedule back to me with a wide grin and turns around to walk away, but stops. "I didn't catch your name though."

I was folding the schedule and tucking it in my back pocket. I look up with all the arrogance I can conjure up and say, "Brooklyn Baxter."

"Nice to meet you, Brooklyn."

And with that, he leaves.

*

The classroom has exactly twelve chairs. Twelve.

"Excuse me, kid?" A gruff voice clambers for attention.

The bell rings and the students shuffle into their respective seats.

"Excuse me, daydreamer? We don't have all day." The teacher with greying hair stands up, adjusting his glasses over his nose. "Who are you?"

"I am new here," I retort, abruptly all too aware of my existence.

"That's right, take a seat."