First Day Blues

     The first day of school is always the same for me, but this year, my senior year, was even worse than usual. For some reason, someone decided our high school isn't good enough. Personally, i liked that it wasn't as new as some of the other schools. Other than the graffiti that had accumulated over the years, i found the old worn bricks comforting. it gave the school character. Apparently, the higher-ups don't agree with me.

    

     The first day of school presented us with not one class of newbies wandering around trying to figure out where the hell they were going, but FOUR. The confusion was bad enough, but on top of that, the library was being moved from the main floor of South Campus to the old woodshop classroom, but they hadn't finished it yet. So i had no escape route.

    

     That is, i didn't until i met Mr. Browning. But that comes later.

 

     So, anyway, at six in the morning i was jerked awake by my stereo, which had a timer on it and was blaring "Bullet With Butterfly Wings" by Smashing Pumpkins. i groaned and rolled out of bed, switching off my stereo. After a cold shower, i threw on a black tank top, a baggy dark blue and grey striped shirt with three buttons on the top of the front, which i unbuttoned, and a pair of jeans. i tossed a five-subject spiral notebook, a new composition notebook, and a well-thumbed copy of Terry Pratchett's Reaper Man into my black Cheers bag and tucked my Mp3 player and phone into my pockets. After stepping into my Doc Marten rigger boots and tucking my pant legs into them, i snagged a couple of bucks from the cookie jar on the top wall shelf in the kitchen and headed out the door.

    

      i got into my Volkswagen and drove to Sonic. When i parked, the lady in the spot next to me was practically shouting at the speaker that they use to take your order. i winced and opened my door, since i couldn't reach the button. i ordered a strawberry-banana smoothie and tater tots and waited. The girl who skated up to my car looked about my age, and tired. i counted out what i owed and dropped it onto her tray, watching her count it. When she nodded and said thank you, i dropped another dollar bill onto her tray and backed out before she could argue.

    

.     .     .

 

     i got to school that morning severely wishing i had just waited and found all my classes during orientation, but i just hate all the crowds and the noise and i was too pissed off about the library, which was the first place i went, and the construction to be bothered. So in the fifteen minutes i had before the bell rang, i tried to find as many classes as possible and work out the quickest routes. i knew where most of my classes were, or at least the general area they were in, it was just a matter of figuring out a way to them that wasn't blocked.

 

     it was about fourth period when i utterly gave up and just wandered around aimlessly. When the bell rang about three-fourths of the way through the period, i dashed into the hexagonal building i was passing to avoid the sea of freshman heading to A lunch. i hid just inside the door and watched them go past the window panel in the door. i was watching the last scragglers slouch by when i heard a voice behind me. Mr. Browning's voice is the slow, deliberate kind that always seems to carefully think about what it's saying before and as it says it.

     "i don't much care for the noise and the crowds either."

 

     i jumped and turned around. The teacher smiled apologetically. He was tall and looked about forty, with messy brown hair and glasses he kept pushing back onto his nose with his index finger. His untucked blue button-up shirt had long sleeves, which were rolled up to his elbows, and his black dress pants had seen better days.

     "Sorry about that. i'm Mr. Browning. i 'teach' art." He did air quotes around the word "teach". i asked him about that later and he said, "Art can't be taught. Either you're born with or you aren't."

     "i'm Willow," i replied. "i'm a senior." He nodded like he knew.

     "What class are you supposed to be in???" he asked. i explained about the construction and getting lost. He nodded again.

     "Well, fourth period is almost over now. Why don't you sit in my classroom for now and i'll write you a pass and email your teacher."

     "Sure. Thanks," i said, smiling. There was an arch in a white wall about twenty feet into the building, which i followed him through.

 

     The art studio took up the whole building. Long wide windows were in each of the six sides of the hexagon, except the side that the door was in. The windows were tinted so i could see out, but nobody could see in, which i knew since i'd walked past this building for the past three years. Sunlight filtered in and lit the room, which had a couple dozen easels pushed against two walls of the left and big lab tables scattered around the right side of the room. There were no desks, only wooden stools. There was a counter that curved outward by the easels and, i guessed, had shelves underneath on the other side. i could see it served as the teacher's desk. There were seven pottery wheels along the wall to my right and a long straight counter with two sinks in it in the very back of the room. Cubbies went up the entire wall that the arch was in, and held art supplies.

 

    Everything was covered in a sort of dust, it seemed. Kiln dust, i found out later. The room was dirty, but in a clean-dirt kind of way. i fell in love with it immediately.

     "i didn't think we had art. i tried to sign up for it when i was a freshman...they said we had to go to Wilson High and take their art classes because there wasn't a teacher."

     "We didn't. This is my first year here." i nodded and slid into a stool by a lab table, setting my bag onto the stool next to me.

     "So, you teach all the art classes, i'm guessing," it was half question. He nodded. i made a decision then. For the last five minutes of the class period, i looked around, and when the bell rang i asked Mr. Browning to make the pass out to say i stopped by the office before fifth period.

 

     "i need to work out something with my guidance counselor," i explained. i had planned to take an art class at the college using the dual enrollment program for my art credit, but sometime in the last few minutes i'd changed my mind. Mr. Browning didn't ask, just smiled knowingly and wrote the pass. He handed it to me.

     "See you soon, Willow." i smiled and nodded, and went to the office.

 

.     .     .

 

     Somehow i managed to find 5th period with minimal difficulty, and actually didn't have a completely horrible first day. i didn't have a 6th or 7th period. i walked to the student parking lot and got into my Volkswagen. On the way home, i mentally went over my schedule and the quickest route to each class again.

  

     The house was empty when i got home. There was a note in my mom's neat handwriting held on the fridge by a ladybug-shaped magnet.

     Went to get groceries. Be back soon.

     -Dawn

i crumpled the note and tossed it into the trash can before going to my room. i turned on the stereo and skipped to "Kickstart My Heart". i pulled my schoolbooks, spiral notebook, and pencil bag out of my Cheers bag and set them on my bed while i pulled down my desk, which folded up into the wall. i put all my school stuff onto my desk and taped my schedule to the inside front cover of my composition notebook.

    

     By the time Dawn got home, i'd finished decorating my composition notebook, which was for my first period English class, and writing the journal assignment. i put the schoolbooks into one of the five cubbies built into my wall next to my desk, put everything else in my Cheers bag, and folded the desk back up into the wall so i could see the corkboards that were underneath. i hung my Cheers bag up on one of the hooks on the side of my wardrobe and went out to the kitchen.

 

     Dawn was carrying four of her cloth grocery bags inside at once.

     "There's more in the trunk," she informed me. i went out to get four more grocery bags. After we carried in the groceries, we put them away while she asked the usual 'mom' questions. "How was school", "Which class do you think you'll like best", "Are the lunches still awful", and all that jazz.

 

     i asked her pretty much the same questions about her job while we cooked dinner. i baked tilapia, and Dawn made a salad. We ate in the living room, her on the couch and me on my turquoise Fatboy that i found at Goodwill, watching The Whole Nine Yards. it was my turn to wash the dishes, so when the movie ended she kissed me on the forehead and went to grab a quick nap before work. She also works the night shift at a bar downtown, besides her day shift at the diner.

  

     When i finished drying dishes, i checked the time and went to wake up Dawn. While she was in the shower, i grabbed a couple of dollars from the cookie jar and wrote a note telling Dawn i'd be down at the internet cafe on Main Street. i put the note on the fridge, holding it in place with a rainbow peace sign magnet, and headed out the door.

Reviews

I'm jealous of the main character. Sonic?! Come on, no fair. There isn't one around here. :(

I like the flow of this chapter- you're building up the background of the main character, and that's good.

[Matthew Ian Herrawood W]

This is good. i think you may be describing a little to much describing the art room and things like that is good but telling us what magnet was used on the fridge might get annoying and saying 'a magnet' would usally be fine. apart from that though its all good and the WAY you describe tings is very good too. Nice!

[John Stussy]

Ok so, thus far your detail has been astounding. Every action has been brought to life, with few words as well. It's in the way you lay your words out. For example, the art room seemed like a very comfortable room, almost like an escape from both the physical maze of the school, and the mental and emotional mazes of high school life. You've got a lot of talent with story writing, and I can happily say that I am looking forward to the next chapter, so much in fact that I'm not seeing any reason to wait to read it. Forward, to chapter 2!

[JuliePetunia]

It seems alot like the first day of school, and I like your characters laid-back attitude.

[Havatara]

I really liked it. In my mind she seems like a rocker girl, which is my favorite type of protagonist. Anyway, in the second to the last paragraph you said, "it was mine turn." You meant, "it was my turn," I think. Other than that this is a fantastic story so far. Please keep writing it!

[Allison]

Like THE INFECTION said, this is very realistic, and much like first day of school just minus the jitters that willow doesn't have, which makes her seem very brave and ready for anything. I like it.

[Mr. Revan]

very realistic. nice