Sunday was a mixture of terror and nausea. It was on the tip of my tongue all day to beg Mom to let me stay home. To tell her exactly what happened at the party. I wasn’t ready for anything more than staying at home. Rather than beg Mom I broke my vow and texted Gunner.
Can’t do this, I pecked out slowly. It took me more time than it should have and countless mistakes to finally get the short message typed out. Typing on a glass screen felt weird and my fingers weren’t fond of it.
Do what? His reply came instantly, which helped ease the knot in my stomach.
School. I’m not ready.
You’ve got this, Mia. You’re stronger than you think.
I miss you.
No, you don’t. This place is a drag. I miss you too though. Have a Reese’s. That’ll cheer you up.
His words made me laugh.
Despite my misgivings, texting Gunner helped, although Monday still arrived long before I was ready.
* * *
Jacob was already gone by the time Mom and I left the house.
“You nervous?” she asked as we backed out of the driveway.
What a question. I wondered if my slightly green complexion had tipped her off. Nodding my head, I gave up any pretense of being ready for what lay ahead. I had more important things to worry about anyway, like keeping the contents of my breakfast in my stomach.
“You’re going to be fine, honey.” Mom said, patting my hand at a stop sign. “Before you know it you’ll have a slew of friends and it’ll be me begging you to stay at home with your old mom.”
I nodded, peering out the window. I didn’t believe her, but if it gave her some measure of comfort then I was all for pretending.
I don’t know what I was expecting as Mom turned into the school parking lot. “Ready?” she asked, pulling into a visitor’s parking space. I was relieved to see that it at least looked like the schools I had seen on television or read about in books. That was a small bit of comfort.
“Let’s go,” I said, quaking inside with fear.
She patted my hand again and opened her car door. “It’s going to be fine.”
She could keep saying the words but it wouldn’t make them true. I climbed from the vehicle, hiking my new bag up on my shoulder as I warily eyed the building in front of me. Dr. Marshall would say this was an important step in reclaiming my identity. Gunner would have made it bearable. The problem was neither one would be with me.
Mom guided me into the building and opened the door to a bright office that was chaotic with morning activity. Students stood in clusters at the front desk barking out demands. Most seemed to have grievances about tardies or problems with teachers. Their issues were foreign to me, but I was thankful that they were all too wrapped up in their troubles to give me a glance.
Mom signed in at a clipboard sitting atop the counter. The woman behind the desk instructed us to take a seat until Ms. Newman, my counselor, could see us. Sitting down, I felt even more inconspicuous as I observed the comings and goings of the students around me. Most of them, like the group of girls standing in a huddle to our left, were treating the office like it was a meeting spot. Their chatter was loud and punctured by even louder squeals. They were hushed more than once, but it was obvious by their giggles they didn’t take reprimands seriously. They finally dispersed and headed out when a loud bell rang throughout the building. The office quickly emptied except for the line of students still waiting to get their schedules fixed.
A short woman with a wide smile and bright eyes walked out from an office behind the counter. “Mrs. Klein, Mia? Hi, I’m Ms. Newman.” She held out her hand for me to shake. “Mrs. Klein, it’s so good to see you again.” The sincerity in her voice was a pleasant surprise. “Why don’t you follow me to my office so we can chat a little before I release Mia into the jungle?” She smiled and winked to let me know she was joking. I returned her smile though her words made the churning in my stomach even worse.
Ms. Newman’s office matched her personality. It was bright and cheerful and overflowed with splashes of color. Motivational posters lined the walls, and ceramic animals with goofy faces sat atop almost every available space in the room. The office was almost too stimulating, but I liked it.
“I printed up your schedule, Mia, and went over your limited transcripts. Your case is unusual since you weren’t previously enrolled in any kind of school. Despite that, we were pleasantly surprised with the scores you received on the series of tests we provided you. They show you to be even slightly more advanced than a typical rising senior. We decided, however, that being around other students your own age would be an easier transition so we’ve placed you in our junior classes.” She nodded at Mom for confirmation, who nodded in return. “Judging by your scores, you might find some of your classes repetitive, and we don’t want you to get bored, so if that becomes an issue we will reevaluate things, okay?” She paused, looking at me.
I didn’t know what she was expecting from me. I understood everything she had said, but if there was a choice there for me, I didn’t see it. They had no idea where to stick me. That was the point. The girls at the party had been right. “Okay,” I answered, giving them what they wanted.
Clearly it worked because she beamed at me. “Excellent. I want you to know that I have an open door policy. I am here to help make this transition as easy on you as I can. We all want you to be successful at Dewy High. Do you have any questions for me?” she asked, handing me my schedule.
I shook my head, fiddling with the strap on my bag. I actually had about a million questions, but I didn’t want to look dumb. The most pressing thing was the schedule I clutched in my hand.
“All right then,” Ms. Newman said. “I’m going to give you a pass that you can take to Claudia at the front desk. She’ll make sure you get a student aide to walk you to your first-period class. Welcome to Dewy High, Mia,” she said, reaching out her hand.
Mom stood up and I realized that signaled the end of our meeting. “Thank you for all your help,” Mom said, shaking Ms. Newman’s hand.
My handshake was less enthusiastic. “Thank you,” I mumbled, studying my schedule to try and make sense of it.