chapter one

so my story is about a girl finding her way. there is humor, sadness, and intellect.

 

 

 

 

       As I glided up the slightly chipped stone steps that lead to the immaculate old English style building, the kind with gargoyles placed at the entrance as if to ward of enemies and protect the school. My mom and I gawked in shock of the reality of seeing the gargoyles, I’m ready I told myself self consciously staring down at my feet, my vintage saddle shoes made me feel a little better. I thought of my friend Sage back home, granted it was only thirty miles away but it felt like eons ago when we met and now our sophomore year of high school we were going to be separated by bridge, thirty minutes and eight hours a day, five days a week. I walked briskly to the headmaster’s office, a bell signaled that it was eight o’clock students scrambled along the corridors, the conformity of everyone in blue jackets with the school’s logo embroidered on the left breast pocket, the white button ups, seersucker skirts of gray, blue and white plaid on girls and khaki trousers on the guys and let’s not forget the mix of saddle shoes and loafers. This part was the one I wasn’t too keen on but Harvard was my goal and if this got me in, great! As I coursed myself through the sea of people, a whopping twenty to thirty people, I have a feeling I’m going to know everyone pretty soon, I finally made it to the headmaster’s secretary. I was in awe of the beauty, the large cheery wood desk with the matching chairs as I sat down I noticed the painting behind her, a Mona Lisa, and she resembled her in so many ways. A leather couch was up against the opposite wall next to an oak door, a mane plate read in block lettering Headmaster Charles Camden. The bland secretary abruptly shot up from her chair and teetered to the big oak door, stepped in and stepped out within seconds, “Headmaster Charles Camden will see you now Miss Hamilton,” she spoke rather rushed and immediately sat back down and started typing away furiously on her Mac Book. As I steadied myself I pushed back my chair and went through the door. Headmaster Camden’s office was immaculate to say the least, the lush beige carpet looked like sand against the same cherry wood desk and chairs as outside but the painting happened to be Rembrandt not Da Vinci and book shelves covered the walls, apart from the huge bay window off the right of his desk, he was standing respectively behind his desk, “Please,” he pleaded. “Miss Hamilton, sit down.” “Thank you,” I said. He looked just as he had over the summer when I first applied. He was a short, stout old man bald on top with fine white hair on the sides, rosy cheeks and a clean shaven face. He looks a bit like the image of Santa that our society has built up, without the beard. He cleared his throat and took out a pair of small reading glasses and opened up a file. “Now, I trust Miss Hamilton, as we don’t normally take in transfer students in the middle of the first semester, you understand how rigorous we are here at St. Genevieve’s, we have an honor policy, dress code, and a certain set of high standards we request from each and every one of our students. It shows here that you were the top of your class at your public school but I am here to tell you that it’s not going to be easy. You were a rather big fish in a small pond but here you are just like everyone else, Ivy League schools are your goal and while we can help you get there you are going to have to work even harder than before. Here is your schedule,” he finished in an authoritative voice. “Do you have any questions?” “No sir, thank you,” I stated and took the paper. “Alright then, you may leave,” he said smiling. As I gathered my book bag he stopped me once more, “As class does start at 8 o’clock sharp, do get a pass to your first period.” 

“I will.”

    As I left the headmaster’s office it hit me that I could fail here and that scared me, to think that all of these hard, time consuming years I have put in to be the best, to excel in life might not be of any worth but I could not think those thoughts! I was going to prove him wrong I will catch up and will graduate with honors at the top of my class; number one I will not take anything less! I looked down at the sheet of paper, AP everything, Latin, Spanish, Statistics, English II, Biology, European Studies, Journalism, and Art History, difficult but not impossible. As I approached my first period class, AP Latin II, Dr Anderson, class had begun 20 minutes ago I noted as I checked my watch, I turned the knob and immediately had the attention of about 20 or so students in the room, so maybe the school wasn’t so small. I’m not a girl who grabs the attention of the world and runs with it. I’m very reclusive, I like peace and modesty. I am intelligent and practical, I’m not very witty when it comes to jokes and I am not overly exuberant. I found my niche of studying and chilling with my best friends and I’m happy with it.

   Eyeballs studied me up and down, mouths of snobby girls moved so fast you could hardly see them. “Alright back to work, Miss Hamilton please close the door and take your seat.” said a man, in his thirties, statuesque physique, Brooks Brothers, slacks and a navy button up with a sweater vest, donned with some brown loafers.  His voice was very deep and authoritative like a radio talk show host or a voice-over for a movie previews. “You will need to get the notes from me after class and a book,” he blurted out and went back to the blackboard. An antique method but effective, I began writing the notes from the board furiously. The day went on like this: get notes, get books and nasty stares from all the girls. Lunch came and went but I didn’t bother, I needed to get everything so I could start studying tonight. My English teacher, Dr. Andrews was exciting, he read from Shakespeare and Whitman and then let us get in groups and discuss and compile a five page paper due next week. We each had to write a page, front and back and put it together. Immediately this girl named Koli got the group organized, what to write about and who was going to write what and how. I could tell the others were used to this but I didn’t really like it. Who died and made her boss? 

“Um…Koli is it?” I interrupted.

“Yes, Hamilton?” she asked.

“Well I was wondering if instead of me doing the introductory paragraph you let me do the body, and you let-,” I started asking but she cut me off.

 “Why does it matter? I gave you the easy part, “she fired at me. 

“Because I don’t want the easy part, I want the difficult one, “I retorted. “And why are you in charge? What are you doing?” I exclaimed. 

“Listen, Hamilton, I am ranked the number one in this class, this school is my domain so do not think you can come in here from some hick town thirty miles away and take that away from me! I’m smart, I work hard and you will listen to me. You will be at the very bottom if you keep it up I will make your life here at school a living hell. So stay away from me,” she threatened. I sat there stock-still, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even from a word. “So on to the next thing,” she continued like nothing at all happened. “I would like for you to email me your rough drafts and finals so I can compile them and add any necessary adjustments,” she said condescendingly, “Any questions,” she paused, “Okay great.” She pulled out a sheet of notebook paper and pen. I silently put my name down and an email address, packed my things and left. Now safely tucked away in my room, binders of notes and books and spiral notebooks surrounded me. It was nice to be home, mom was ordering Chinese takeout and sage was only a block away. 

    My mom is amazing, we are best friends; she has always been looking out for me since day one, my education, my goals, my thoughts, my needs and wants. She gave up the opportunity to finish high school and go to college, for me. Granted my dad has never really been in the picture, but I love them both the same. I have a sense of security with my mom, she has yet to disappoint me and no matter what I know I can count on her. The doorbell rang. “Food is here, get your butt away from the books or I will drag you away by your ankles!” My mom’s lucid voice yelled. She knew I could not resist the delicious smell of Kung Pao chicken, shrimp eggrolls and fried rice. Take out containers surrounded the kitchen table, we didn’t worry about plates just silverware and napkins; not to mention our love of coffee, so our cabinets were full of a variety of colored coffee mugs. Our house was small and quaint, Victorian and homey. We had an older couch that mom found at a vintage shop with a blue afghan and pillows thrown around. 

“So how was your first day?” she asked smiling

“Oh you know same ole same ole, caddy girls, strict teachers and lots of catching up to do.” I answered. 

“Aw, I’m sorry. If it makes you feel better your grandmother insisted on interrogating me on everything about the school, your classes, if you wanted a car, oh and when I got home today she had called a high speed internet service to install it, here! I mean after sixteen years she thinks I would not know how to clothe you and help you in any way possible. Like she was trying to say that I’m a bad mother! I told her that you would be perfectly fine without those things, I mean, we’ve made it this far, right?” she cried. “Oh yeah I’ll be fine.” My mom and her mom have never gotten along since I was born. Mom left them to take care of me, not exactly what they had in mind. My mom has always been able to rely on herself though, never accepts help from others, must be sign of weakness in her eyes, I am very proud of her. She has given up everything for me, “I’m sorry mom,” I said taking her hand. 

“It’s okay; we are going to start going over there every Friday for diner by the way.” She said quickly.

“What?” I cried. 

“Something she wants to start now that your school is close by. You know, it’ll be okay, she just wants to get to know you more, and it won’t hurt too badly.” She said nonchalantly. 

Puzzled, I just stared at her this wasn’t normal behavior of my mother but I could only take it as it is she probably wouldn’t do this for any other reason but that’s not my place I can trust her decisions and that’s all I need to do. “It’ll get better mom, it sounds like fun.”

   As I went to bed that night, I prayed, for the first time in a long time. I prayed for me at school, my mom and my grandparents. God has never been the ruler of mine and my mom’s lives but we think of ourselves as good people, we occasionally go to church and we have plenty of Bibles. But I tend to think that God has put us in situations to better ourselves, to make us stronger, I think I will try to read my Bible more often. I definitely don’t want mom or grandma to end up strangling one another at these Friday night dinners.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

? need feedback of any kind.

Reviews

[Dutch Jr.]

Good dialogue, and I like your writing style. the only thing I would suggest is to divide your writing into smaller paragraphs, it makes it easier to read. Other than that, I like the work and I'm going to read more.