Charlie Brown opened his closet and looked over the shirts in it. He had lots of them, but few were acceptable candidates for a special occasion like today.

"Hmm." He pawed through the section of his closet with the dress shirts. "What do I have that says first day of senior year?"

"Oh, big brother!" called Sally from just outside his room.

"Come in, Sal." Charlie turned around and was surprised to see Sally all ready for her first day of 10th grade: wearing a yellow crop top, high waisted jeans, white Converse, and her hair up in neat little space buns.

"You look nice," he remarked as he turned back to his closet.

"And you look completely unprepared!" she answered, aghast, as she walked up to her brother and began rifling through his wardrobe. "Come on, big brother, where's your sense of excitement? You're starting your senior year!"

"Oh, I'm excited," Charlie said to her. "I just don't know what to wear."

"Well, that's why you have me. You help me with schoolwork, I help you with how to dress. Here we are," Sally said as she retrieved a gray t-shirt from the depths of the closet. "Hold that for me."

"A Snoopy tee?" her brother asked in disbelief.

"Just wait…" She continued looking through the closet, now starting to open drawers. "Where do you have that darn thing— Ah! Here it is!"

Looking very proud, Sally showed her brother what she had found: a black leather jacket, which had been buried in a plastic drawer under an unreasonable amount of hoodies.

"Wear this with that tee, and you'll be the best dressed guy in school today."

Charlie Brown looked at the leather jacket, then at the t-shirt in his hand, then back at the jacket. He drew a sharp breath. "All right, Sally, I admit it. You do have excellent fashion sense."

"Thank you," she replied as she skipped toward the door. "Don't forget a pair of light wash jeans."

"I won't," he chuckled, then added, loudly so Sally would hear from behind the now closed door, "You'd better help me clean up this mess you made later!"

Charlie Brown walked casually down the hallway of red lockers of Schulz High School. Thanks to the sharp outfit Sally had picked out for him and the buzz of the first day of senior year, people had been excitedly greeting him all morning, and he felt very confident today.

Then Charlie saw his friend Jack Olsen coming up the hallway. "Hey, Jack! Looking sharp today!"

The two exchanged a quick handshake. "Thanks, Charlie Brown! Right back atcha!"

Charlie had always admired Jack. He had mostly managed to shed his childhood nickname of "Pig-Pen" by now, but even though some of the jerkier kids in school still liked to bring it up every so often, he never let their cutting remarks bother him. Jack had lots of self-confidence. He had been a big inspiration to Charlie Brown over the years.

Finally Charlie arrived at his intended destination. "Hey, Linus," he said to his best friend, who was busy organizing his locker.

"Hey, Charlie Brown." Linus nodded towards Charlie's shirt. "Thanks for the free publicity."

"Huh? Oh! Right. No problem."

"You look very snazzy," added Linus. "Did Sally dress you?"

Charlie chuckled, "How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess. That, and she's always going around promoting my products."

Back in seventh grade, Linus had come up with an idea for the school fundraiser: create a few t-shirt designs depicting Charlie Brown's beagle, Snoopy, as "Joe Cool", the "World War I Flying Ace", and an author tapping away at his typewriter. The fundraiser was so successful that, when it was over, Linus started a website and continued to sell his designs. Now anyone who was anyone at Schulz High had at least one Snoopy tee.

Linus opened his backpack, and Charlie noticed a fuzzy blue fabric peeking out of the bag. "Linus!" he gasped. "What did you bring that thing for?"

Linus blushed as he stuffed the blanket into his locker. "I was nervous, okay? Give a guy a break!"

"Do you know what would happen if someone found out you had brought that to school? You'd be laughed off the baseball team! And besides, what is there to be nervous about? It's senior year! We're the big kids now. Bringing the blanket to the first day of freshman year, I get, but today?"

"We all have our own concerns, Charlie Brown."

"If you say so. Just make sure nobody sees the thing."

"Don't worry," answered Linus, closing his locker, "it's safely tucked away."

The two of them walked away together, and Charlie asked, "So, what class do you have first?"

"English. You?"

"Same. And so does Patty, so we'll finally have a class together besides just baseball practice."

"Your Patty?"

"Yep."

"Nice. I think my sister is in that class too."

"Is that supposed to be good news?" Charlie joked. He and Linus were both laughing as they entered Mrs. Turner's classroom. There were only a handful of kids already there: Lucy, Diane Scott, Seth Lynch, and Patty, who was sitting at a desk, busily organizing a red and white striped binder.

Charlie immediately smiled when he saw Patty, although he was a bit surprised at the sight of his girlfriend actually on time for a class, not falling asleep, and with a pair of black and gold glasses perched on her nose.

"Patty," he greeted as he approached her desk (which was in the second row from the front for a change, and not way in the back).

Her ponytail bounced as she looked up from her binder. "Chuck!" She stood up and gave him a big hug. Charlie hugged her back, feeling safe and comfy in the warmth of Patty's favorite red sweatshirt — which she had actually stolen from Charlie about a year ago.

"Sit next to me," she directed, pointing excitedly at the desk to her right. Charlie quickly complied, and settled into the chair.

After exchanging the typical first-day-of-school formalities, Charlie asked Patty, "So, what's with the fancy notebooks and the glasses?"

"Oh, that," replied Patty, her cheeks flushing. "Well, after I just barely passed junior year because of that extra credit assignment Ms. Lamano kindly offered me, I realized I'd better get my act together. I really can't afford to not graduate this year."

"Oh, so you bought some nice supplies as an incentive to study?"

"Yeah."

"And the glasses?"

"I bought the supplies with some of the money I had set aside for my contacts, so I'm just wearing the glasses so I can save my contacts for when I really need them." She paused. "I don't look too… dorky, do I?"

"Not at all!" exclaimed Charlie Brown. "In fact, I think you look very pretty."

"Aww, thanks, Chuck," she giggled.

Most of the class had arrived by now, as well as Mrs. Turner. Charlie glanced at his watch and, realizing the bell was about to ring, began getting out his own notebooks and pencils. As he did, he thought about how lucky he was. He had good friends, things were going his way, and now he even had Homeroom with his girlfriend. It was shaping up to be an excellent senior year.

Lucy quietly crept into her calculus class. She felt every eye in the room land on her, including the teacher's — and Schroeder's. But when she glanced in his direction, he immediately looked down.

"Sorry I'm late," she whispered. "I got held up with some business with the elections."

"Have a seat, Miss Van Pelt," Mr. Benson said to her. "We're about to begin."

Lucy scanned the room for an empty seat. Of course all the ones in the front were taken, which was very unfortunate for her. Lucille Van Pelt was an involved student — the kind that sat in the front and asked questions; not the kind who sat in the back between Craig Bowerman and Violet Gray, who spent the classes sneaking potato chips and gossiping with Frieda, respectively.

She sunk into her seat with a sigh. This was her only class with Schroeder this year, and her spot didn't even have a view of his — except a small portion of the back of his head. She hoped she could persuade one of the kids sitting in front to trade with her, but it seemed unlikely.

Soberly Lucy pulled out her textbook and notebook. It looked like this class wouldn't be nearly as enjoyable as she had thought, which was even more of a shame because math was her favorite subject. She could only half pay attention during that period, her already wandering mind even more distracted by both Craig and Violet's noise. She was glad when Mr. Benson handed out their first assignments.

Schroeder could feel Lucy's eyes on the back of his neck. Even though she was several yards away, he felt almost as if she were breathing over him. He tried to focus on the class, but then his attention was dragged away by the activity in the hallway, which he was sitting the closest to out of the whole room.

He snuck a glance at the pale young woman who had taken the seat he'd wanted just seconds before he could reach it. She was new, he was sure, or at least, he had never had any classes with her before. She looked young, too; she was probably a junior.

Suddenly the girl turned to look at him. Feeling the blood rushing to his face, Schroeder tore his eyes away and tried to make sense of the second to last question on his paper. Focus, Schroeder, focus… And try not to make the juniors think you're a stalker.

He laughed to himself as that thought reminded him of Lucy and how, as a kid, she had always walked into his house through the front door which never seemed to be locked. At some point in middle school, however, Schroeder guessed his mom had clued in and started locking the door, as that was when, for a brief time, Lucy actually started to use the doorbell. But soon enough she was letting herself in through the back door, which was always locked — but had a key hidden in a nearby flower pot.

Once, Schroeder decided to move the key, and hid it under a rock. The next day, he heard some scuffling outside, and within a couple of minutes, the door opened and a slightly crazy-haired Lucy entered. "That's a cute trick, Schroeder, changing the hiding place of the key. I'm surprised you thought it'd stop me."

After that day, Schroeder was fairly certain Lucy had borrowed the key and made her own copy, but he'd never dared to ask her. He figured it was better not to know and that way avoid a showdown with Lucy and his parents.

Suddenly Schroeder looked up at the clock and realized there were only seven minutes of class left. He bit his lip and looked down, hurriedly trying to solve his last problem.

He rushed through it as much as he could, and was handing in his paper as the bell rang. Then Schroeder saw Lucy heading his way. He lingered a moment, trying to decide what to do. He hadn't really thought much about how to put his plan in action, and suddenly their first time being face-to-face in weeks had snuck up on him.

Should I stick around and just act indifferent when she talks to me? Or should I just make a break for it…? He figured that avoiding Lucy would be slightly less hurtful to her than giving her the cold shoulder.

By now, however, Schroeder had dawdled so long that Lucy was almost upon him. He despaired for a second, wondering what to do now, but at that moment, Franklin came up to him.

"So, Schroeder," he said, steering them both toward the door, "how was your trip to Europe?"

"Oh, uh— it was great." Schroeder looked over his shoulder as he and Franklin walked away, stunned at how unexpected and swift the getaway had been.

Schroeder opened his locker and placed his book bag inside. He had planned everything out so that he'd only need to stop by his locker twice in a day, just before 4/9 — which for him was orchestra — and just after. He took his phone from the front pocket of the book bag and his music folder from the locker's top shelf.

He was just about to close it when he paused to look at the pictures on his locker door. There were three: one of Beethoven (Schroeder's personal hero), another of his friend group at the last baseball team of the previous year, and the last one, of him and Lucy. The twinge of guilt he had felt the day before came back. Was it really necessary to make Lucy suffer?

Oh, don't be so wishy-washy, he reprimanded himself. It's only a few days. It's fineee. She'll thank you later!

… Well, either that, or she'll slap you unconscious.

He did his best to laugh it off, and closed his locker door, but to his surprise, someone was standing behind it — the girl from calculus class who had taken his seat.

"You're new here, aren't you?"

The girl turned to look at him. "Uh… Ye— yeah," she stammered. This time she was the one who blushed.

"I'm Schroeder," he said to her, extending his hand. "Welcome to Schulz High."

Now looking more relaxed, the girl transferred the books she was carrying to her left hand and accepted his handshake. "Nancy. Nancy O'Donnell."

"Are you a junior?"

"I am."

"Oh, well, you must be pretty smart. I saw you in calculus. You finished before I did."

"Oh," she said, flustered. "That's just 'cause it's my favorite subject. I'm not as great in other classes."

"Not as great…" he repeated. "So you are 'great' at calculus?"

"I suppose so," replied Nancy, nodding slowly.

"Well, good for you." Schroeder wasn't sure what to say next, so he looked down at his watch. "Anyway, I have to be going, but it was nice meeting you, Nancy. I guess I'll see you around."

"Yep."

Peering out from behind her locker door, Nancy watched Schroeder walk away. After he had been gone for a few seconds, she sighed loudly, then buried her face in her hands.

"He noticed me," she squeaked.

"Give me an 'S'! Give me a 'C'! Give me an 'H'! Give me a 'U- L- Z'! The Schulz High Gladiators will be the conquering team!"

Charlie Brown rolled his eyes. What kind of school called its team "The Gladiators"? Schulz High, apparently. He sighed and turned away from the cheerleaders, who were busily — and distractingly — organizing on their first practice day of the year. He had never understood why they couldn't simply practice in the gym or on the football field, like normal cheerleaders at normal schools did. But for some reason, for the last two years, their rehearsals had been moved to the baseball field.

But Charlie had bigger concerns. He was up to bat, and he always dreaded batting. His pitching had definitely improved over the years, but batting was something he had never managed to get the hang of — especially not with Patty as the pitcher. She may have been his girlfriend, but on the ball field, she showed mercy to no one, not even good ol' Chuck.

Schroeder, who was the catcher, signaled Patty for a slider. She threw the ball, and Charlie Brown, despite his best efforts, was unable to hit it.

"Strike one!"

"You don't have to tell me," muttered Charlie.

Schroeder tossed the ball back to Patty, who this time threw a fastball.

Swish.

"Strike two!"

"Good grief."

Patty prepared to pitch again. Making eye contact with her, Charlie did his best to predict what she'd throw. He guessed it'd be a curveball, and adjusted his position accordingly. Charlie took a deep breath.

He was right. As the curveball came at him, time seemed to slow down, and he began to swing. He was going to hit the ball for once!

"YOU CAN DO IT, CHARLIE BROWN!"

Swish.

"Strike three!"

"Aaugh!" Charlie threw his bat down in frustration. "All right! Who was it? Huh?!"

"I was just cheering you on, Charlie Brown!" laughed Violet Gray. "That's my job! I am a cheer-leader!"

"Well, next time, don't cheer so loudly!" he snarled. "I would have hit the ball if you hadn't distracted me!"

"Hey, you're the batter. It's your job to keep your eye on the ball."

"Why, I've got a mind to—"

"Okay, Chuck, calm down," Patty interjected, grabbing him by the shoulders. "So you struck out. It happens to the best of us!"

Breathing heavily, Charlie looked intently at Patty. Then he looked at Violet, who was still laughing hysterically along with the other cheerleaders.

"It's not worth it," whispered Patty.

"Ugh," he groaned. "You're right, of course."

"That's my Chuck," she said with a smile. "Always the bigger person."

"Hmmph."

"Come on." Patty gently nudged Charlie away from the plate, and he walked away, shaking his head.

Charlie thought how bizarre it was that Violet had been the one who had helped him maximize his newfound popularity back in middle school, but had gone back to tormenting him as soon as high school began.

Every once in a while he thought back to that year. He remembered everything about it, even the look in Lucy's eyes when he went to her psychiatry booth after the first day of 8th grade.

"Charlie Brown," she had said, "I'm going to tell you something, not as your therapist, but as your friend."

"Oh?"

He expected a zinger, but the next words out of her mouth surprised him:

"If Violet and Patty want to help you capitalize on your newfound popularity, accept the help — but only if you're going to do it for you. Your problem this whole time has been that you've wanted to improve yourself in order to impress Heather."

"Yeah, but—"

"Shut up and listen. Just because Heather's gone doesn't mean you have to give up. But don't improve yourself for her or for any other girl. Do it for your own sake. That's the only way you're really going to glow up. If you do it for you."

Charlie Brown looked at her curiously. "Lucy… Why did you never say this to me before? I've been trying to improve myself for years!"

"Because you wouldn't have listened as long as Heather was around. Well, now that she's gone, listen to me and take advantage of Violet's offer."

He was quiet for a long time, wondering if Lucy was serious. Finally he decided she was being genuine. "You're absolutely right, Lucy. Thank you." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a dime, and placed it in front of her (her psychiatric help fee had gone up from five cents as of 6th grade).

Lucy pushed the dime back in his direction. "Keep it. I told you, this was advice from a grateful friend."

"Grateful?" He was confused.

"For the water balloon incident."

"Oh! I thought you were angry about that."

"Charlie Brown, you saved Schroeder's life," scoffed Lucy. "I don't care if you yelled at me."

"Oh. Okay, if you say so. Thanks, Lucy."

He turned to leave, but stopped as Lucy suddenly spoke up once again: "Oh, and Charlie Brown?"

He turned back around. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

Now that had been surprising. Lucy never apologized to anyone, for anything. And yet, Charlie knew exactly what she was talking about. He simply nodded and smiled in reply, and once again began walking away, realizing how seeing Schroeder go through a near-death experience must have changed Lucy. He didn't think her sudden burst of niceness would last very long, but if some good advice — and an apology — came out of it, he was glad.

Boy, had he been wrong. Although a number of Lucy's annoying traits did spring up again over the next four years, the incident really had changed her, and she became more generally nice afterwards. Charlie guessed that that was part of the reason that Schroeder finally confessed his love for Lucy a couple of years later.

Violet, on the other hand, went on being just as mean as usual. While she and Patty (Patty Swanson, that was) did actually help him build on the sudden attention he had gotten for saving Schroeder's life, they lost interest soon enough, and by freshman year, had returned to their usual snobbish ways.

Still, Lucy's advice to improve for his own sake had really stayed with Charlie, and although his popularity by now was nowhere near where it had been in the 8th grade, he had managed to move beyond being the neighborhood blockhead.

Of course, when Violet pulled stunts like the one she had today, he did sometimes feel like that little eight-year-old underdog he had once been. Luckily, he had his Patty to keep him grounded.

"There's nothing here that looks very difficult, sir."

"Marcie…"

"Sorry," she said. "It's Patty, I know."

Charlie Brown was with Patty and her best friend Marcie Carlin at their favorite hangout on 3rd street, having root beer floats and sharing a pizza while Marcie helped Patty organize her schedule for the year.

"Trig is pretty easy," Marcie continued. "Earth and space science, English, Spanish."

"Trigonometry is easy?" Patty gasped. "Gimme a break!"

"Okay, not easy, but… Easier than Calculus, at least."

"Wow, Marcie," Patty replied sarcastically. "That's a big comfort."

"Well, what I mean is, it'll be easier for me to help you with it because I already took it last year."

"Yeah, Patty," added Charlie. "I took Trig last year, too, so I can probably help you as well."

Patty nodded once, then ran a hand through her hair as she thought about it. "Well… I'm not saying I'm going to enjoy it, because I'm not. But in any case…" She smiled. "I'm glad I have you two."

Her words made her boyfriend and her best friend smile as well.

"So, Marce, what else have I got to deal with this year?"