Don't Expect me to Fall in Love

Meet: Jessie Overstreet

"Technically the first day of school really doesn't matter," I begin the process of convincing my mom not to make me begin with everyone else my last year of hell.

My mom met a guy and decided to drag me here for my senior year of high school because she believes she "found the one" or thinks "we've got a keeper" or whatever. Something I've gathered from the whole affair, love sucks. Well at the moment at least.

"But this is the day you'll meet friends!" She recounts.

"Mom. This is senior year! Everyone's groups are set in place, no one is moving to a new high school for senior year, so it's not like I'm going to make friends anyway." Moving is not something I had ever planned to do until college, especially not for my last year of high school. But Paul is making my mom happy and a lifetime of happiness must be paid for one hundred eighty days of hell apparently. And I'm not horrible enough not to pay up. Mom has worked hard enough for my brother and I to make me not completely resent this idea. Even though she is dysfunctional at times, she does a lot for us two.

"It's going to be alright Liz," she says, "you'll end up with plenty of friends, and you're pretty enough to end up with a ton of guys chasing after you by your second day." I blush at the comment, always being uncomfortable around compliments, "Maybe you'll even see friends from work." Unlikely.

We moved in a month ago and because of my friendless situation I applied to any job that would take me. I found one at a nearby arcade two blocks away from our apartment. My twelve year old brother Princeton was ecstatic about it and would come see me at work all of the time.

Unfortunately my co-workers consist of dorky sixteen year old boys that seemed to pee their pants every time I tried to talk to them, and old men that haven't really grown up. It wasn't all that bad, the ones that would actually speak to me could be cool, but usually they were the sixty year old men.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't that alone. As dorky as it sounds, one of my bestfriends is my brother. Most things I have been through, he has too. And we are a good team. Whenever my mom would go through a crazy Vegas stage we'd band together and do all the 'mom stuff' our selves.

And the kid is mature for a twelve year old.

The clock changes to 7:00 and I know this is where I give in. "Love you honey," Mom says.

"Love you mom," I say, closing the door behind me.

When I find an appropriate parking space I join the rush of teenagers speed walking to their first period.

Mine: drama.

Room C213. If only I had ever stepped foot in this school before...

"Hey," I say, tapping a black haired, attractive kid, busy with his friends.

He looks back at me then turns back around to continue his conversation.

"Wow," I mumble moving over to someone who most likely will not ignore me.

"Excuse me, could you direct me to c213? I'm sort of new here," I say to a girl texting someone.

"Uhh, yeah. up the stairs, down the hall, first door after the bathrooms," she says smiling up at me.

"Thanks," I say smiling back as I walk away.

"No problem."

I follow her instructions and find myself face to face with a bearded, hipster-looking man, after stepping through the door.

"You're new here," is the first words that come out of his mouth.

"Indeed," I say.

"Seating chart's over there," he points to the board.