the lower case is purposeful.
there was a pleasant sort of numbness that came when a person began their seventh school in four years. that was seven different cities in three different regions. seven sets of teachers, friends, neighbors, classmates. seven first-day-of-school outfits. two houses, three apartments, and two townhouses.
this one was a townhouse. it was small but bigger than the last place they lived. the plumbing worked this time and all the rooms were livable. nothing smelled especially suspicious, like the last bedroom that kelsey had lived in. she was almost certain a person had been buried in the wall.
kelsey fitzclarke was the unfortunate sixteen year old that had been moved from city to city in the last four years. her, her mom, and the promise of a place better than the place they were leaving. that promise was usually a lie. a lie filled with questionable school districts, sketchy neighbors, cheap housing, and fear. her mom was a strong believer that independence was the motivation that drove them. two women, making it on their own in the vast country that was canada. kelsey knew better though. it was a heavy dose of fear that ignited a fire in her mother. it was fear that had them traveling across canada like a modern day bonnie and clyde. running from a life kelsey hardly had time to remember.
today, the eighth day of september, was no different than any of the other days before it. except that kelsey was standing at the steps of a new school. the outside was the same as her last school; as the outsides usually were. the sign by the stairs was different -degrassi community school - it read in blue and gold. a mustardy yellow sort of gold but still gold. it wasn't the first day of school but it was the first week of school, a luxury that kelsey usually missed out on. she always arrived everywhere halfway. it was a healthy reminded that people's lives went on before her and continued, unaffected, when she left.
kelsey kept her arms crossed over her chest. some people thought acts like that were a defense mechanism. a way for someone to protect themselves physically from whatever was happening emotionally. it was probably true, kelsey was built out of defense and caution. she was always prepared for the worst. moving constantly was ensured that whatever preparation she was doing was not for nothing.
the inside of the school looked the same as every other inside of a school she had ever been in. white brick and lockers; even the kids looked the same to kelsey. she managed her way through the crowd to the office. a woman with round glasses and white hair sat behind he secretary's desk. she was sorting through mail and didn't look up until kelsey's 5'10" frame was standing over her.
kelsey fitzclarke was the owner of a particularly unfortunate pair of genes. she was taller than most kids her age, boys included. she was the sort of thin that magazines liked but real people did not. because her elbows and her knees looked like awkward knobs that connected too long limbs. her face was drowning in freckles and she hadn't developed much of a figure in her few years of puberty.
the woman at the desk looked up at the girl the same way everyone who had read her file did. sympathetically. "kelsey fitzclarke?"
"yes, um, they told my mom that i was to come into the office to get my schedule." kelsey fitzclarke spoke in a voice not more than a whisper, looking anywhere but directly at the secretary. she was a timid mouse of a sixteen year old and she lacked any confidence; though there was little about her to be confident in.
"everything is right here." the secretary passed over a small stack of papers that was tucked neatly into a manila folder. kelsey's name was written on a label at the top. she took the folder and made her way back out of the office.
the first piece of paper was her schedule, complete with a locker number. there was a paper that had directions on it, in case she should get lost in the middle of the school day and need help. that was very likely because kelsey was exceedingly good at getting lost. the rest of the papers were standard and unimportant. an emergency card for the nurse, a school shirt order form, a flyer to remind students to sign up for clubs or sports, a lunch menu, and a september calendar.
she kept the schedule and map but put the rest of the papers in her backpack. she wouldn't need a school shirt or a lunch menu. she wasn't going to sign up for clubs or participate in anything that was happening in september. it was a nice sentiment though.
her first class, because she missed homeroom, was math. the teacher stopped writing out an equation on the board when kelsey opened the door. the way he looked at her told her that he was the type of teacher who knew every student's name. he studied her for a second, trying to recall who she was. was she late for class or was she at the wrong class?
"kelsey fitzclarke," she finally provided, realizing that he was not going to remember someone he didn't know.
"of course." he waved her further into the classroom.
the door swung shut behind her and she noticed that the other students in this math class were watching her. she turned her head down and toward the teacher, trying not to pay attention to the 20 sets of eyes on her. curious juniors regarded her appearance, some of them whispering to each other in tones hushed enough not to make out but loud enough to hear.
"well miss fitzclarke, here's you textbook," the math teacher handed her a large hard bound copy of teaching textbooks: trigonometry, "i'm coach armstrong. you can grab yourself a seat in back by mr manning. craig could you raise your hand for our new student?"
a boy in the back with a jewish-looking face and hairstyle, held his hand in the air and waved it a little for emphasis. coach armstrong pointed to the boy, if only to reinforce his words earlier. kelsey shuffled passed the other desks to the empty one in the back. craig manning had lowered his hand and he was watching her situate herself at the desk. kelsey laid out her textbook, a notebook, and a pen before sitting down.
"hi," craig whispered, leaning over.
kelsey looked to her left, smiling at him but not saying anything. she turned to the board after that, copying the equation coach armstrong had written. kelsey wasn't especially good at math but she was already a week behind and she didn't want that to effect her future grades. wherever she ended up finishing junior year, because she was certain that it wouldn't be here at degrassi community school.
craig manning turned back to his own notebook. he kept his head down while coach armstrong taught, scribbling nonsense on his paper. like kelsey, craig wasn't good at math. unlike kelsey, craig wasn't interested in attempting to get better. at sixteen he had come to terms with his questionable grade point average. school didn't hold too many promises for him. craig knew what he wanted to do with his life after high school and none of it involved college or good grades. a 4.0 wasn't going to help him become a better musician.
everything in his notebook was doodles or song lyrics, none of it was the math equations that coach armstrong was teaching them how to solve.
"hey," the boy in front of craig leaned back in his chair, but kept his face toward the board. a half-hearted version of being inconspicuous.
"yeah?" craig leaned forward a little bit.
kelsey tried not to pay attention. there were two things kelsey loved most in the world though. being invisible and eaves-dropping. she was an excellent eaves-dropper. she used to listen in on her mom's conversations when she was younger and she had honed her skills by the time she was ten. she could tune out a blaring radio show if someone near her started a conversation they didn't want overhead.
"we still on for tonight?" the boy talking, kelsey observed, was small and tan. he was well-dressed with perfectly done hair and had a bit of a femininity about him.
"yeah, joey's leaving at 8." craig replied.
he and marco - the well dressed boy in front of him - had been planning a back-to-school party for the past couple weeks. ever since craig's step-dad joey had announced that he was leaving the house to craig for a weekend. it was going to be epic. that was what they kept telling themselves - and all their friends - at least. alcohol, music, hot girls. it would be the closest to heaven craig would come in a while. especially if joey ever found out about it.
"hey," craig leaned over to kelsey's desk and she was worried that he had noticed her listening in.
kelsey turned slightly to look at the two of them but she remained silent. she didn't want call attention to herself. marco regarded her skeptically, he wasn't entirely sure why craig was suddenly drawing this girl into their conversation.
"you wanna come to a party tonight? a bunch of us are getting together." craig asked.
"oh uh, sure?" kelsey's voice cracked at the end of the sentence. it came out as more of a question, she wasn't sure she wanted to go to a party nor was she sure he knew what he was getting himself into inviting her. she wasn't exactly the partying type. she certainly wasn't trying to make lots of new and lasting friendships at this school. it was bad enough she knew this kid's name.
"cool, i'll tell you the details at lunch." craig was always an agreeable person. he was likable because he was cute and easy going. he sort of coasted through the parts of life that other people took seriously and that made him a great short term friend. the type of friendly acquaintance that everyone knew but no one really took the time to know.
it was easier for craig that way too. if people didn't really know him than no one was ever really hurt by him. because all those people who did get to him got nothing but hurt. sometimes, not understanding his own feelings, made it hard for him to understand someone else's feelings.
kelsey fitzclarke knew a little bit about hurt feelings. they weren't the sort that scarred her memory like craig's. they made her cautious though. cautious and invisible. she had sunken into the role of an introvert. terribly shy, lacking any self confidence, and just waiting until she could leave this school and move on to the next.