Chapter 1: Do Over
September 5th 2013
Morning. How I loathed the morning. It was 6 am and I needed to get ready.
I'd gotten a letter in the mail insisting that I come in early for a tour of the school. I mean, it would be nice to get to know my way around, but did it have to be so damn early?
I slowly heaved my exhausted body out of bed and rummaged through my closet, trying to find something suitable as fast as I could.
I'd lived in my hometown for 16 years. I'd never been the new girl before and suddenly I wasn't so sure if I wanted to be here.
I mean sure, it might be interesting to be somewhere new and start over, but I guess the idea of moving and the reality of moving had been two very different concepts.
I quickly opened boxes in search for the one pair of jeans that actually fit me. Luckily, they were nesting on the very top of the box.
I threw on my black worn out jeans that weirdly smelt like the beach and the white lace tank top my sister and I found in Salvation Army, and started to do my hair. My hair was a jumbled mess of tangles and randomly bleached pieces from a sporadic decision made a few summers back. I painstakingly brushed out every snarl and threw my hair into a high bun, using about 5 elastics to ensure that it would not move.
After dashing on whatever makeup I could find I was headed down stairs. I was never one to obsess over what to wear so I wasn't all too concerned about what I looked like. As long as I looked like I wasn't just rolling out of bed and bolting out the door, I felt like I accomplished something.
"Good morning baby Gee." "Morning Dad." I grumble, putting my backpack in its kitchen chair next to mine and filling it with school supplies. "You need to eat monkey." "I know. Just one more minute." I insist, tossing my brown bagged lunch into my bag and zipping it shut. "You alright?" "Yeah, why do you ask?" "You seem a little scattered." He suggests, taking a sip from his coffee and continuing to read the newspaper. "I'm alright. Just a little anxious I guess." "Well don't be nervous. Everybody loves you." "You have to say that, you're my dad." I mumble, walking to the cabinet and pulling out a box of cereal, haphazardly pouring it into the bowl without looking before walking to the fridge to get milk. "But everybody does love you. You always know how to make people laugh." "Okay." I mutter, dragging my feet to the fridge, cereal bowl in hand. "That's my girl." He says, getting up from his seat and pinching my cheek before wandering into the adjacent room to find his glasses.
After scarfing down my breakfast, we were in the car to school, my eyes following the scenery as we whooshed past it. My stomach was churning at the thought of getting to school.
The car stopped at the front of a tall brick building with blue and yellow painted sections. We had made it, and my stomach flopped.
I slowly unclicked my seat belt and opened the door. "Be young. Have fun. Drink Pepsi." "Dad!" "That's what I said to your sister when she went off to college. She thought it was funny." He mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. "Thank you Daddy." I laugh, kissing the top of his bald head and stepping out of the car, grabbing my bag from the back seat and waving until the car disappeared down the road.
My Dad always sang songs from commercials when he was young and said taglines of outdated products for fun, even in serious situations. But I couldn't complain, it made him happy. Whenever I go somewhere with him, people think we're a riot. I mean, I guess we're silly and crazy, but other people don't have enough fun in their lives. Life is about taking risks and enjoying what you do.
Our house was filled with laughter, creativity, songs and jokes. We were taught to be kind to everyone. We were taught to not turn small problems into large ones. It was this mentality that lead to the shaping of my personality. In our home we were accepting of all, no matter their background, race, sexuality or gender. You must be kind to receive kindness. I had hoped that these life lessons would aid in my high school experience, but my nerves were taking over.
I take a long deep breath as I climb the stairs to the building, hoping that I won't have to resort to eating alone in the cafeteria. High school was like this giant game of monopoly; it was frustrating, costly, and just kept dragging on.
With my hands on my backpack straps I trudge into the building, passing the metal detectors and walking to the office.
"Degrassi Community school please hold." Said a girl about my age into a headset resting delicately on her long blonde hair. "Hi. My name is Becky Baker. How may I help you this fine September morning?" She greets, flashing her million watt smile and taking off her headset.
"Hi, my name is Gioia Bruner." "One moment please." She instructs, gliding her chair over to a filing cabinet and pulling out a file with my name on it." "Oh okay. So, you're a sophomore right?" "Mhhhmmm." "And you're new this year?" "Yes ma'am." "Come with me please." She gestures, getting out of her seat, setting down her headset, and walking to meet me on the other side of the desk, opening my file. "Okay so this," she states, pulling out a sheet of bright pink paper, "is your schedule. It will tell you where everything is and that sort of thing. I also have the handbook here that lists anything from consequences of skipping class, to how long your shorts need to be." She instructs, handing the booklet to me and walking back to the other side to put the file away. "Clare! Can you cover the phone for me? I'll be right back." She announces, poking her head into an office.
"Of course Becky. If you see Drew tell him we have a meeting today after school in the cafe. Attendance mandatory." States a brunette who emerges from the office, several books stashed in her arms as she makes her way to the desk and sets up her work space. "Will do. Thank you Clare, I owe you." Becky grins, grabbing the door and walking down the hallway,
"Now remember Winston, you are the story." A girl with glasses exclaims as we enter a studio. "Oh sorry Imogen, I didn't mean to interrupt." "No problem Shake n' Bake." She insists, moving out from behind the camera and sitting in a nearby chair.
"Would you mind giving this girl a tour? I have oodles and oodles of work to do." Becky confesses, gesturing toward me. "Actually I can't, sorry. I have to get things set up here but I'm sure you'll find someone who can-" "I'll do it." Proclaims the boy sitting at the news desk. "Really Winston! Thank you so much you're amazing." "No worries Becky. Go about your business." "Oh that's so great Winston. I'll be in the office if you need me. That goes for you too Gioia." She affirms, smiling and dismissing herself.
"Winston I'm gonna need you back here in twenty okay? We need time to sound check before we air." "No problem Immy. This school really isn't all that big." "That is true. Now be gone." She insists, waving at us dramatically before she goes back to adjusting the set.
"So, I haven't exactly introduced myself yet, I'm Winston." He says as we exit the studio. "Gioia. Nice to meet you." "You too. Can I see your schedule?" "Of course." I say, digging through my papers and handing him the copy.
"Spanish, World History, Geometry, Biology, gym...You're in AP English?" "I guess so." "I uh, think Miles is in that class." He ponders, adjusting his glasses as we continue down the hall. "Who's Miles?" "He's one of my friends who just transferred this year from private school." "Why'd he transfer? Let me guess, did he get expelled?" I ask sarcastically, continuing to follow Winston down the hallway. "Actually, yeah. He kind of set fire to the school." Winston admits, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "He set fire to the school!" "Not a big one! He just kind of destroyed the science wing. No biggie," He shrugs. "No biggie?!" "Let me explain." Winston instructs, motioning for us to stop ahead at the bench by the outdoor garden. "So Miles is really rich. Like buy and sell your family kind of rich. His dad is running for mayor and money is no object. His dad just paid off the school and no one pressed charges." "I wish I had money." I mutter, laughing lightly.
"Well, his life isn't all that great. His Dad expects a lot from him and Miles isn't exactly a well behaved guy." "I figured." "Right. So, he just tries to avoid his Dad but even in their giant house, the walls have ears and news tends to spread fast around here." "Great." "Cheer up. It'll be fine. Degrassi's a really great school, I promise." "Well if you say so." "I do. Now, I should probably show you where your classes are." "That would be wise." "Vamanos." He says, getting up and reaching a hand down for me to grab hold to.
"Man those benches are low." I murmur, rubbing my back as he helps to pull me up, readjusting my bag and walking with him through the winding halls.
"And that's pretty much it." Winston concludes, stopping in front of the studio. "Well thank you Winston, I had a lot of fun." I grin, shaking his hand. "Me too." He confesses, putting his hands into the pockets of his plaid pants. flashing a bright smile. "Do you maybe wanna… sit with me at lunch today? You know, if you have no one else to sit with." Winston asks, his rough calloused hand rubbing his neck. He seemed to have a habit of doing that when he was nervous.
"I'd love to Winston." "Great. Then I guess I'll, see you around?" "I guess you will." I giggle, turning my back to him and walking down the hall, making my way to homeroom.
"Morning guys, I'm Miss. Oh. Welcome to home room." An older woman with black hair states as she enters the classroom.
I was sitting in the back corner of the room, my phone open to Facerange, looking at Winston's friend Miles' profile, curious as to what he looked like. He was fairly tall with light brown hair, dressed in a navy blue suit standing in between Winston and a boy with bleach blonde hair.
I hear a soothing low male voice beside me, "do I know you?" He asks, my eyes still on my phone. I lock my phone and set it down on the desk. "Probably not." I state, turning toward him. "Then why were you looking at my Facerange profile?" He questions with a furrowed brow .
My eyes widen and my I can feel my cheeks turning bright red. It's silent. "Don't worry about it. It's totally cool." He snickers, placing one arm over the back of his chair and the other on his desk as he adjusts to face me. "Your friend Winston was giving me a tour of the school today and we ended up talking about you for a little while." I offer, shrugging my shoulders and locking my phone. "Really? Well I feel special." He smiles, pulling out his phone and logging onto Facerange. "What's your name?" He asks, looking down at his phone. "Gioia… Bruner." His phone clicks as he types away at the keyboard. "Ahh. Gioia Bruner. From Massachusetts, 342 friends… and currently single." He proclaims, raising his eyebrows.
I turn on my phone. "Miles Hollingsworth the third. From BC, 512 friends…. currently single." "Well would you look at that." He says grinning. "Two good looking people such as ourselves should be in relationships. What a pity." "Shame really." He offers, turning off his phone and putting it back in his pocket.
The bell blares through our now packed homeroom as tardy students shuffle in and take their seats.
"Welcome welcome. My name is Miss. Oh. I teach orchestra, concert band, and technology and I will be your homeroom teacher this year. I'm passing out copies of a simplified block schedule that breaks it down by day. Also, picture day is in two weeks so fill out those forms." She announces, walking around the room to pass out the aforementioned papers, her black heels clicking on the tile floor.
"Well, that's all the info I have. You guys can talk quietly among yourselves until the bell rings." She says, going to sit down at her desk and collect her things to get to her first block class.
"So, why Canada?" Miles questions, turning to me with a half smile. "I'm still wondering that. I mean, my Dad and I always talked about living here but I never thought of it realistically. Maybe a belated midlife crisis of sorts." I ponder out loud as I put my phone in my pocket and zip up my bag. "I think my Mom's life is a constant state of midlife crisis. She's always going out and buying expensive things for no reason and taking off to different countries for the afternoon." He explains, picking at his nails. "That may also be because you're rich." I add, shaking my head with a faint smile playing on my lips.
Suddenly the bell blares through the room and people scatter through the door. "See you around Gioia." "That you will." I say, through on my backpack and wandering through the halls.
Once I stagger to my next class and find a seat, my phone buzzes. You have received a friend request from Miles Hollingsworth III. Accept.
Author's Note:
Hey guys! So I tried writing this earlier but it didn't have the right feel, so I gave it another go. I hope you like it! I'm taking a break from Revive for awhile. I've got a bad case of writers block on that story. If you liked this story (or didn't like it) leave a review, I appreciate all criticism and will try my best to make this story great. So, what did you think? Did you like it? Should I continue? I'd love to hear what you guys think.
Love and Rockets,
Squeegee G
