"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Mom asked you as she pulled into the carpool lane
"Yea, Mom," You looked at her with a grin and said, "There's no turning back now."
"You can get medication at the nurse any time," She said as you looked at the other kids with awe and excitement, "You have an emergency pass and can go to the nurse or the guidance counselor whenever you need to; remember that, Mike."
"I know, Mom," You looked at her again and reassured her, "I can take care of myself. I promise."
As she parked the car, she looked back at you and gave you a smile. "I love you, and I'm so proud of you."
"I love you, too, Mom," You grabbed your backpack from in front of the seat and opened the door, "I'll see you at the end of the day."
You close the door behind you and grin like a fool as you walk toward the front door of your new school. After so many years of being homeschooled, you can finally be in public school again. As you open the glass double doors, you stop to take your school schedule out of the pocket of your shorts and your map out of your other pocket. Your first class of the day is Advanced Placement Economics and Public Issues in room 12. You try to find it on the map, but it's difficult to decipher and you don't know where you are in relation to the map itself. You feel a tingling in your forehead and then your eyes cross and twitch and then you inhale and become someone else. "This dang map is too frustrating," Chester, the old man, rambles, "I remember in my day when I didn't need any blasted maps—"
"Excuse me?"
You inhale again, then exhale, blink rapidly and shake your head for a bit. A guy your age has stopped in front of you with a confused, yet amused look on his face. He took one of his earbuds out of his ears to guarantee he heard you right. He looked like someone who probably shouldn't have seen a Chester episode. Green mohawk, facial piercings, spiked jewelry, and a defining unibrow.
"Uh…" you stammer.
He gives a laugh, turns his head away, notices what you assume to be his friend, and says, "Fuckin weird ass shit for the first day," and he called out to his red-headed friend, "Ay, Scott, you gotta listen to this shit!"
You immediately turn around and start walking the other way as your thoughts race "shit, fuck, dammit" and you actually run into another person. "Dude, I am so sorry," you say to the small black kid with glasses you just knocked over, "I didn't notice you."
"It's okay," he says as he gets up, "I get that a lot."
You offer him a hand to help him up. He accepts, and you pull him up with ease due to his small stature. You then try to explain to him why you ran into him with "I'm just new here and I was trying to—"
"I'm new, too," he said with gusto, cutting you off, "It's my first day of public school in my entire life!"
"Really?" You ask with a smile, "This is my first day in public school since first grade."
"That's a crazy coincidence," He said, beaming, "My name is Cameron."
"I'm Mike."
"It is sort of odd that I'm only spending my senior year in public school—"
You cut him off with a grin, "Me too!"
"This is amazing!" He said, fascinated, "What's your first class?"
You glance at your schedule again before answering, "Advanced Placement Economics and Public Issues."
"That's my first class, too!"
"We probably should go find it," You said with a laugh.
"I agree," He replied.
And off you went in search of your first period, walking side-by-side. "So, what brings you to public school after all these years?" You ask.
"I was homeschooled my entire life," He began, "My mom is very protective, so she kept me in a germ-sealed bubble while I was at home. I always longed to be with more kids my own age on a daily basis. Going to home school gatherings just isn't the same. My mom finally caved in and decided that senior year was going to be my year to live: to prosper! So how about you?"
You weren't sure how to respond. One student already witnessed your condition today and the reaction wasn't exactly compassionate and understanding. Should you trust your condition to the first person who has treated you with kindness? "Well," you began, but, Cameron didn't give you a chance to respond.
"I think we're getting close to our classroom," He said, "It's in room 12 and we're at room 10."
It was probably for the best that Cameron didn't know you were homeschooled because of your MPD. You developed it when you were in kindergarten and your dad became violent. Mom divorced him after three years of abuse- after all of your personalities were formed. She wanted to protect you, so she sheltered you in homeschooling.
You walk through the door of your first period class and you're struck with confusion. No one else is in the room. You look at Cameron and he is just as confused as you are. "Are we in the right place?" He asks.
"I'm not sure, man," You reply.
"Cameron Wilkins and Michael Franklin?" A friendly female voice asks from behind you.
You both turn around and see who you assume to be your teacher. "Yes?" Cameron inquires.
"I'm Mrs. Brown," She says with a smile, "welcome to Columbus High School. I was told I would be getting two former homeschoolers in my first period."
"How did you know we were the homeschoolers?" Cameron asked.
"I heard you ask if you were in the right place. The rest of these kids have been here for years and know the morning routine."
It turns out that most kids don't come into the classrooms until the first bell—which Mrs. Brown explained was like a warning to get to class—so you and Cameron were all alone with Mrs. Brown. She showed you a seating chart and pointed out your assigned seat and Cameron's assigned seat. It was in ABC order by last name, so you sat in the second row, but Cameron's seat was in the back. "Excuse me, Mrs. Brown," Cameron began as you sat down, "I have trouble seeing words from far away and I don't know if I'll be able to see your lessons from the seat you've assigned me."
"Well," Mrs. Brown looked at her seating chart and said, "There's an empty seat next to Mike, so you can sit there. But if I catch you two distracting one another, you're getting separated. That's how it works here."
"Thank you!" Cameron said, and hurriedly sat in the seat to your right.
You smile at him and he smiles at you. You then turn your attention to the seating chart, now being projected for the class to see when they arrive. What seals your focus is the amount of girls in this class. You've never had any romantic encounters before, and it's on your senior year bucket list to hook up with a girl at least once. "Hey, Cam," You whisper to him, "Which girl do you think will be the prettiest?"
"Going solely off of names?" He asks
"Yea, just names," You confirm
"Well, it's hard to tell just with names, but Bridgette is a pretty name."
"I think Heather will be the hottest," You say as the first bell rings
And suddenly, all the students came pouring in at once. A blonde girl walks in with a pale girl with teal and black hair and a tall boy with long, dark hair who has a guitar case for a backpack. An Asian girl with long hair walks in holding hands with a muscular, Hispanic guy. As a mixed-looking girl with short, brown hair walks in with a cup of Starbucks, you turn to Cameron and whisper, "I guess the Asian model is taken."
"Do you think the girl with blue hair is dating the guy with the guitar?" He whisper-asks me.
"No, she's currently single," A female voice suddenly answered, "They dated once in like sophomore year, but it ended badly. They didn't talk to each other all of junior year."
When you turn around to where the voice came from, you find the prettiest girl in the class. She has big brown eyes on a heart-shaped face with short, bright red hair topped with a black bow. "Sorry," she added, "I couldn't resist piping in. You guys are new and you don't know the entire scoop, but I promise I'm not a gossip-geek," She giggled after she said that. It was really cute, "I'm Zoey; I sit behind you guys."
"I'm Cameron," He says with a smile. He's a very happy dude.
"I'm Mike," You say, trying to play it cool.
She put her Great Gatsby tote bag on the desk behind Cameron's and sits down. She folds her arms and rests her chin on them. She rapidly blinks her eyes, lined with a cat-eye design, and whispers, "You guys want to know what's up with the other kids here? I've known them since freshman year. Just point out someone."
You smile, intrigued with her personality and her offer, "The blonde girl who came in with the not-couple," You suggest
"Bridgette? She's been dating the same guy since summer after freshman year. They're so in love: it's ridiculous."
"Do you know anything else about the blue haired girl?" Cameron asks, leaning in and whispering.
"Gwen? She broke up with her last boyfriend after junior prom. He is such an asshole. I used to have a crush on him, too," She grinned like a goof, "I was so stupid as an underclassman."
"The guy with the guitar?" You ask
"No, this other guy," She rolled her eyes before continuing, "Duncan Haynes. He's easy to spot. You'll see him by the end of the day. Piercings, green mohawk—"
"Oh shit," You interrupted, "I saw him today."
"He's such a dickwad," Zoey said
You laughed before asking "Okay, what's the deal with the Asian girl and the Latino?"
"Heather and Alejandro," Zoey said with a sigh. She signaled for the two of you to lean in closer. This was a big secret, "Rumor has it that he treats her like shit. They've been together since the start of junior year and their relationship supposedly has gotten worse and worse. If that's true, it's really sad. I always thought Heather was bitch queen, but I feel really bad for her for being with a jerk."
"That is sad," Cameron agreed
"Oh, and the girl talking to her is Courtney Smith. She's president of our graduating class," Zoey added, "She's been hooking up with that punk Duncan ALL summer. They dated before, then he cheated on her with Gwen, then Gwen dumped him, and Courtney spent the summer sleeping with him AND his best friend. Rumors. All of it. Don't take my word for it," She gave a giggle after.
"You sure you're not addicted to gossip?" You say with a nervous smile.
Her eyes widen and she slaps her hands over her mouth, "I'm not, I swear!"