Chapter One

 CHAPTER ONE

 

     My name is Trinity Thompson and this is the story of my life.  Well, I feel like it’s the first real chapter.  My family and I moved to Sumner Bay this summer from College City.  It wasn’t that big of a move in terms of distance, but in terms of location it was a giant step.  Our old neighborhood was very old.  Mom and Dad actually grew up there so what does that tell you about the age of the neighborhood?  The streets were pocked with pot holes and all the stores had that old smell.  Just walking down the sidewalk was a nightmare.  There were cracks everywhere and every time it would rain all the crevices would fill up with worms and trap them there until the sun would mummify them.  Mom and Dad knew just about everyone and it seemed impossible to walk down the street without someone stopping to tell me and my brother they knew Mom and Dad when they were our age. What kind of response were they really looking for from us? Bryan and I kept to the polite smile which always seemed to work well enough.

     Our house was a small three bedroom house with one bathroom.  I don’t know why, but it’s just so gross to share a bathroom with my parents.  It’s not like they’re diseased or anything.  I think it just feels like an invasion of space.  Alright, there was this one time when I left my underwear in the bathroom after my shower.  I guess they fell out of my hands as I left the bathroom, but guess who should find them first?  My Dad!  I had to listen to him tell me about how he thought it was inappropriate for a girl of my age to wear black underwear.  As long as I wasn’t wearing white pants, I didn’t see the problem.  I think he was just covering up his embarrassment since he thought they were Mom’s at first.  Mom was my savior that night and quickly changed the conversation while handing me my undies behind her back and steering Dad outside to look at something on her car.  I’m not saying Mom isn’t without her faults though.  Bathroom sharing is pretty strenuous where Mom is concerned too.  I’m constantly getting questioned about the different deodorant I use and how do I live for those feminine hygiene conversations!  Yep, sharing a bathroom with the fam was a definite low point, but besides the small bathroom, the even smaller bedrooms and the matchbook size yard, that house shared all of our first memories.  My brother, Bryan, and I were born in that home.  We crawled, toddled and enjoyed a carefree childhood in that home.  We have many pictures showing all of the life that we gave to that house.  There were Kodak moments of Dad and his 50 million lights at Christmas.  There were the frozen memories of birthday candles, brightly wrapped gifts, and wide smiles as we grew older among our family and friends.  We had some really great times, but now we are in a new house.  A bigger house.  This is the house that we will share our adolescence with and probably the house that will see us leave our parents’ nest.  I can’t wait for that one!

     Our new house was once a shorter, split-level ranch, but a second story was added to it years ago and that created a lot of room and three levels.  My parent’s room is on the very top level.  They have what is called a “master suite”.  Their room is huge with a walk-in closet and a very large bathroom with two sinks, a tub and a separate shower.  They share the floor with Mom’s hobby room which is also her office and Dad’s office.  There is also a small walk-in closet in the hallway.  The floors are all of a light oak and since the addition is newer than the rest of the house, it has a more modern feel to it.  The hallway opens up to a landing at the top of the steps and Mom set a giant ficus tree there.  We’ve had it for quite some time and it makes me wonder if Mom picked this house just to put that tree right there in that spot.

     The second level is the main level to the house.  My bedroom was the old master bedroom so I have my own bathroom.  It’s the second largest bedroom in the house and I love the space.  I’ve always wanted enough room to be able to put a desk in my room and Mom and Dad have already promised me a new computer for Christmas.  Bryan is across the hall from me.  We share our floor with the guest bedroom, kitchen and the living room.

     The last and bottom level of our house is what we call the basement.  One half is the garage and the other half is a finished room.  Mom says that she is going to fix up that room for entertaining complete with a TV and stereo.  She says that it’ll be the perfect place for me and Bryan to have friends and a place to have holiday gatherings and football parties.  My parents enjoy having friends over to watch football games and it’s only a matter of time before they know the whole neighborhood.

     Our new house is in Sumner Bay and its right down the street from the Chesapeake Bay.  We have a community beach and it’s great to be able to walk down to the water whenever we want.  There is even a club house at the beach complete with a concession stand.  We’ve gone down there once or twice just to decompress from moving.  It is so beautiful to sit in the warm sand and feel the breeze blow through my hair.  My Dad bought us all lunch of hot dogs, fries, and soda at the concession stand and just looking around at everyone relaxing and enjoying themselves, I felt like I was home.  It was sad to leave my childhood home, but I wasn’t sad for long as I finished my lunch and stretched out under the warm sun.  This was a life I could definitely get use to.

   My new high school is called Sumner Bay High.  It’s about 15 minutes down the street and I’ll be riding a school bus every morning.  I feel like this will be a great start.  New house, new city and a new school.  The best part is that I’m starting my freshman year at Sumner Bay.  It’s nice to know that I’m not the only newbie.  I went to the Freshman orientation last week.  It was both exciting and scary at the same time.  Orientation was really informative.  It started with the Principal, Mr. Montclaire, giving a speech to welcome all the new students and new freshmen.  Mr. Montclaire introduced a few members of the staff who, in turn, talked a bit about their subjects and a few of them mentioned a few extra-curricular activities like drama, band and sports.  I heard them talk about the school newspaper and that sounded like a good possibility to me.  I’m going to have to check that one out later.  Of course there was a demonstration of the school orchestra and the school band played while the cheerleaders and Pom Poms danced around.  They were all very good and I really enjoyed the show.  I tried to imagine myself as a cheerleader, but had to laugh at the image that came into my head.  It just wasn’t me.  Yes, I’ll definitely look into the school paper.  After Mr. Montclaire mentioned a few of the school rules, dress code, and that we should read the handbook as well as learn the school song and fight song, he let us go to explore the school.

     I pulled out my schedule and handed it over to my Dad.  Sometimes I don’t think Dad and I spend enough time together so I jumped at the opportunity for a whole night with him all to myself without Bryan around.  

     “Well, where should we go first?” he asked reading my schedule.  “How about we just go in order of how your day will go so you don’t get confused?”

     “I think that’s the best plan,” I told my Dad and reached up to take the schedule back.  “Okay, it says that Mrs. Sanchez is my homeroom teacher in Room 0104 which means that’s down in the basement.”

     “Basement?” Dad asked with a bit of confusion in his voice.

     “Well, yeah Dad.  There is a basement in this school.  I was looking over the handbook last night trying to find general areas of my classes and read that classes that begin with a “0” are in the basement, “1” are on the main floor, and “2” are on the second floor.  Trust me, I’m glad for the hint.  I’m going to be so confused.”

     “You’ll be fine Trina. Really.  We all had to go through high school and the majority of us have come through unscathed.  You will too.  Let’s go down to the…basement…and see if we can find Mrs. Sanchez’s class.”

     I smiled up at my Dad and felt immediately thankful that he came with me instead of Mom.  What took Dad 10 minutes to say, Mom would have taken a half hour with the same results.  We headed off to the closest stairs to the depths of the school where I would have my first of many panic attacks.  The stairs were hidden from view by two large wooden doors with tiny windows in each one.  I immediately found out the purpose of those small windows when I went to push on one of the doors and noticed a face in the window.  At once I took a step back and let the guy on the other side step through.  He flashed a quick smile as he excused himself and walked down the hall.  For a second he turned back and as our eyes met he flashed another quick smile then he was gone.

     “Do you know him?” my dad asked as he stepped up behind me.

     “No,” I answered lamely.

     “Do you wish you did?”

     “Dad!” I yelled and headed down the stairs desperately hoping he didn’t see my flushed cheeks or the smile that simply would not go away.

     The stairs were wide and dark and we passed few people.  I tried to imagine what they would look like when school was in session.  I hoped I wouldn’t get confused in the rush.  At the bottom of the stairs we took a left and went past the girl’s restroom.  We found my homeroom class and first four classes without any problems.  Then we looked for my locker and stood there for about half hour while I practiced opening the thing.  For the life of me I could not get it to open. My Dad was very patient and made it look so simple.

     “Okay Trina, it’s not rocket science,” my Dad began in a cool and composed tone, although I knew he was getting irritated.  “Turn the dial a couple times to the right to clear everything out.  Now turn the dial until you reach 12.”

     I turned the dial a couple of times like Dad told me to and then rested on 12.

     “Good.  Now go left twice and on the second turn stop on 3.”

     I turned the little metal knob once then turned again to land on 3.  I was getting the feeling that lockers were not an exact science.  The small dial was in no way accurate and wobbled with every turn.  With the third rotation to the right, I was told to stop at 24 and pull up on the small metal lever while jiggling the knob if I had to.  I guess I did it perfectly since I didn’t need to do any jiggling.  Finally, after mastering my locker and inadvertently memorizing my locker combination, my Dad helped me to decorate my locker a bit.  Mom and I had gone out that past weekend to the drug store down the street and bought shelf paper, some magnets, a magnetized mirror, some magazines and a couple other goodies to set up my locker to feel like home.  I spent last night ripping out and carefully trimming photos to put up in my locker.  Dad was very patient as I cut and taped and even helped me out quite a bit.  I wasn’t the only one taking a moment to decorate.  I glanced down the hallway and noticed a very pretty girl with long brown hair.  I couldn’t believe she was a freshman.  She seemed very popular with the boys and held the attention of the three around her that I knew couldn’t be freshmen.

     “Looks pretty good,” my Dad said as I paused to take a finishing gaze.  “What do you think?”

     “I like it,” I said a bit apprehensively.

     “What’s wrong?”  Dad asked, but I had a feeling that he knew what was wrong already.

     “I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” I said.

     “I don’t think you have much of a choice Trina and since the choice isn’t yours to make then it’s up to you to make high school a good experience or a lousy one.  No matter what happens, you’ll get through it and you’ll be able to look back on it and know you put your best foot forward.”

     “You sound like a coach.”

     “Is it that apparent?”

     I just giggled and gave Dad a great big hug.  Dad was the coach for Bryan’s football team.  Bryan loved the time spent with Dad and Dad loved being able to help Bryan build memories and make friends.  It was their time together.  Dad was a pretty good coach too.  He and the team made it to the championship games last year but lost the big game.  It was still a great accomplishment to get the team that far.  I really didn’t feel any better though, but I did appreciate the effort.  I got a quick kiss on the top of my head and then we were off to seek out the gym and my grammar class.  Later on in the car on the way home I admitted to Dad that the orientation did help the jitters.  I still had butterflies, but felt a little better knowing that things weren’t totally unfamiliar.  

     “Do you remember your first day of high school Dad?”

     “To be honest I don’t,” my Dad started apologetically.  “But you know Trina, things were a lot different then than they are now.  I don’t know if I could handle high school now-a-days.  It’s all relative.  You can handle this because this is your generation.  Your peers.  I handled it back when I was a teen because that was my generation.  You’re not afraid of high school Trina.  You’re just unsure of what to expect.  You’re afraid of something new and that’s okay, but don’t let it take control to the point where you loose the experience.  Enjoy yourself.  You’re never going to get a “first day of high school” again.  How about concentrating on making it the best?”

 

     “Trina! Dinner!”  I heard my mom shout which brought me out of my reverie.  I had been in my room laying on my bed thinking over everything and to be honest, I was starting to get a little nervous.  Maybe thinking too much wasn’t my best bet.

     I headed down the hallway towards the kitchen and could smell pizza emanating from the kitchen.  Pizza was my favorite and I knew Dad had ordered it knowing that I would be a little nervous about school the next day.  As I walked into the kitchen Bryan was sitting in his seat and Mom and Dad were busy shuffling around getting everything on the table.  I took my usual place at the table and noticed a tiny box sitting on my plate.  It was a small, shiny white box with a pale pink ribbon tied around it.  I picked it up and it felt a little heavy and didn’t make a sound when I shook it.  As Mom and Dad sat down, I asked what the gift was for.  

     “For you on your first day of high school,” Mom said.  “Open it.”

     I untied the pink ribbon and removed the top to reveal thin, pink tissue paper covering what looked like a small book.  I folded back the tissue paper and lifted out a small journal.  It was very pretty.  The hard cover was red with a soft, faded, pink rose on the cover.  It had a red ribbon bookmark sewed into the binding.  I always wanted a journal.  My Mom journalized constantly and I always wanted to do the same. 

     “Well? Do you like it?” my Mom asked.

     “Absolutely!  Thanks Ma!”

     “Do you think you’ll be able to fill it up?”  Dad asked.

     “I won’t have any problem,” I said as a carefully set the journal on the cabinet behind me so it wouldn’t get dirty and dug hungrily into the pizza.

     After dinner was finished I helped my mom clean up the kitchen.  I washed my hands of the red, pizza grease and then picked up my new journal.  How would I start the first page I thought to myself?  I took the little book into the living room and sat down with the rest of my family.  I looked down at my brother who was thumbing through his newest comic books.  He was a freak over those things.  He would read them until he pretty much memorized them and then take out his drawing pad and begin to copy the pictures.  He was a pretty good artist and would basically copy the whole book.  Sometimes when he was in between books he would make up comic strip characters of his own.  He actually wrote a few comic books.  I thought they were a bit corny, but I was not a big comic book fan.  Even at 12 years old he had a goal of going to Art school and writing his own comic strip.  I hadn’t even begun to think of what I’d like to do when I got older.  My first and foremost concern at this point was getting through the first day of high school.  

     I looked over at my mom who was busy cross stitching.  She always went through spurts.  She would work on a project and then put it down only to pick it back up again a couple months later and work some more on it.  The current project she was working on was the same project that she started 2 years ago.  She did a very good job even though she was tragically slow.  

     Dad was sprawled across the vacant part of the couch and stared idly at the television set.  I don’t think he really realized what he was watching.  Every time I glanced in his direction his eyes were a little more closed.  I figured it was only a matter of time before they were completely shut and he was snoring peacefully only later to be left in a room devoid of light and human company since we all would leave him just where he was.  There was really no point in waking him.  It took too much effort and all we ever achieved was a grunt and gurgle and he turned over to commence snoring.  He would wake up later in the middle of the night and somehow get to his bed to snuggle under the warm covers with Mom.

     I sat on a chair off to the side and just watched the rest of my family.  One by one I glanced at them.  They were all happily occupying themselves as I watched and squirmed in my chair.  I couldn’t stay still and my mind was completely cluttered with thoughts that I just couldn’t get a good grasp on.  I knew it was just pre-school jitters.  My first day was tomorrow and I couldn’t stop thinking that something was going to go wrong at some point.  In my head I could vividly see the hallways of the school.  They were teaming with people.  They were all talking and laughing and the din was pounding through my head. I was desperately searching for my literature class.  I knew it had to be very close to where I was standing, but when I looked above the doors there were no room numbers!  In desperation I ran into the nearest classroom and sat down.  The class was quiet.  Everyone was sitting in their desks staring straight ahead.  I took the closest seat.

     “Who are you?” the teacher’s voice thundered.

     “Trinity Thompson sir.  I’m here for freshman lit.”

     “This isn’t freshman lit!  You’re in the wrong class!” the teacher bellowed as the class broke out in hysterical laughter.

     Total horror drew crimson to my cheeks and pulled tears from eyes.  I ran from the classroom and just kept running and running and…

     “Trina? Are you alright?”

     I slowly shifted my gaze to my mom and hoped I didn’t look like I felt.  I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. 

     “I’m just a little tired.  I think I need to go to bed.”

     “You know that it’s pointless to worry about something you can’t change right?”

     “I know.  I can’t stop though.”

     “What exactly are you worried about?” my mom asked with real concern across her face.

     “I’m afraid that I’ll do something really embarrassing.”

     “What is the worst that can happen from that?”

     “A reputation of being a freak!”

     “Do you really think everyone will remember what you do tomorrow for four straight years?”

     “You never know, but who wants to take that chance?”

     “I think you’ll be fine.  Don’t worry so much,” my mom said with a smile.

     “Goodnight,” I said as I walked out of the room and went to my room.

     Once in my room I got my things together and then promptly went into the bathroom for a hot shower.  What a tension release that was!  The hot water was just the thing I needed to relax me.  I just recently bought a new bottle of honey and milk body scrub and took a little frustration out on myself using a body puff.  When I stepped out of the shower my skin was perhaps a little too exfoliated so I smoothed on my usual cucumber melon lotion, got my pajamas on and crawled under my covers.  I just laid there staring up at the ceiling.  I went through the whole layout of the school.  In my mind I traced the steps to every class and planned when I could get to my locker.  I read my locker combination in my head over and over again.  This was it.  I couldn’t be any more ready than I was at this moment.  I could feel my eyes getting heavier and it felt so good to close them.  You know the feeling when your eyes have been opened for too long and when you close them your eyes burn, but the burn feels really good?  I guess I kept them closed for a bit too long because before I knew it, I could faintly hear my dad scuffling into his room and I knew it had to be late.  This is was my only thought before I drifted back into thoughtless, dreamless, merciful sleep.