III

Once I was back at my house of choice, the summer went by faster. The few friends that I had were around for most of the remainder of the vacation, and LA was definitely more kid-friendly. What really sped the summer up was knowing that school was coming back into session sooner rather than later; I was truly dreading the idea.

After I had been shipped back to my mother, the whole situation that got me sent home had been a bit muddied. Despite my explanations, she was tending to agree with my dad for once in her life; I had done something stupid, and I was only trying to be a pest. This, of course, infuriated me to no end, but there wasn't much I could do. My stubbornness didn't just come out of thin air; genes are a powerful thing.

So, after countless fights with my mom, and even my almost-step-dad a couple of times, I was switching schools. My mother decided she wanted me closer to home, so she could keep a closer watch on me. My freshman year had gone perfectly smoothly, as had every year before that, but I guess she felt sticking me in a brand new environment would be the perfect thing for my supposed defiance and anger. The whole idea didn't really bother me from an education perspective, but the whole social aspect was really eating away at my mind.

Ever since my parents decided to split up, my desire to be social had dwindled. The divorce had kind of ruined my self-esteem, which was of course all thanks to my father's lack of communication and ill-conceived ideas of how to talk to his daughter, but that's a different story. Being around people I didn't know had slowly been making me more and more nervous, and I knew that going to a place full of more than a thousand people I had never even seen before wasn't going to help that. I tried to explain this to my mother without admitting that I had any weakness whatsoever, but that was a frivolous attempt. Never wanting to admit any personal flaw or weakness to my parents really had its disadvantages.

For the last few days before school started, my whole existence felt like a blur. I spent almost every moment wishing for the summer to restart; I would even go back to living with my dad if it meant that I didn't have to go to school. I could barely eat, which was definitely out of character, and my last remaining nights of freedom included little to no proper sleep.

On the first day, I woke up in a panic long before my alarm. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep or even just lie in bed until it was time to actually get up; I was too nervous to be alone with my thoughts. Using my extra time well, I tried to make myself look as presentable as I could, without looking like I tried too hard. Every possible bad scenario ran through my head, making me feel like there was absolutely zero chance of a positive outcome.

My mom drove me to school in an attempt to make peace. The atmosphere around the house hadn't exactly been all that nice, and I think she was willing to do just about anything to get me back to normal. Well, she wasn't willing to change her mind about her decision on my education, but she was trying to make up for that. In the car, I wanted to delve into my true fears about what was going to be happening, but I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to admit that there was something wrong with me. Being nervous the way I was couldn't have been normal, human beings should not be allowed to feel that way.

She dropped me off a little less than half a block away from the school, per my request. I did not want to be the brand new sophomore who had their mom drop them off at the door. It took me a few minutes to get to the actual school building, but it felt like the shortest walk of my life. In my attempt to hold myself together, I found the nearest washroom and let myself have a few minutes to relax before I attempted to find the homeroom class I was supposed to be attending. Looking myself in the mirror, the only thing that was plaguing my mind was the fact that I was probably just unwanted by everyone; if my own father didn't want me around, what was my peer group going to think? I overanalyzed every possible detail of my appearance, trying to find something I could say I felt confident about. Would people notice my slightly swollen eyes from all of my crying lately? What if they did, would they care? All of the variables made me feel sick.

Eventually, I willed myself to leave the mirror to find my homeroom class. I tried to talk myself down from the criticism I was placing on my own shoulders, but I couldn't shake the feeling of not being good enough. While I searched for my name on the long list of last names that began with the early letters of the alphabet, I tried to find something to occupy my hands. They eventually instinctually found my hair; making me feel a little less awkward. The list told me what room number I had to navigate to, which was another headache in itself. If anyone else that wasn't a complete stranger was here with me, they would have told me to simply ask someone who looked like they knew what was happening. That wasn't an option. I would just have to find it for myself; it's not like I wasn't used to being alone.

After only a few minutes of wandering through the bustling hallways, I found the right room, and I quickly peaked inside. There were other kids in there, socializing and having a good time, like any kids would on the first day of school. It made me wish I was at my old school, catching up with my friends and feeling like there was a place I could truly fit in. Taking a deep breath, I took a few steps inside, and sat down at the nearest desk I could. Nobody was next to me, and it was almost like nobody even noticed I was there, although I felt like everyone's eyes were burning into the back of my skull. I assured myself they weren't, and it was just my nervous brain imagining things, but it felt realistic enough to make me want to leave.

A few minutes passed of me sitting in silence while everyone else interacted around me, and then the teacher finally spoke and gave a typical first day spiel. I tried to focus on what she was saying, but I couldn't even do that without feeling overly aware of myself. There was a chance I was paying attention too closely, and other kids would immediately label me as a nerd or a teacher's pet, or maybe I wasn't paying enough attention, and the teacher was going to call me out on it. She asked if anyone was new to the school, and it killed me to put my hand up. I was welcomed, but all the while I could feel the eyes on me, and it made me want to crawl out of my skin. During the whole first day experience, I couldn't help but wonder why the one time my mother agreed with my father, the outcome had to be as terrible as this.

My mother picked me up in the same spot where she had dropped me off, and the walk back felt significantly longer. This had to be because there were many other kids walking home, or walking to cars like me, surrounding me. It made me feel uneasy; what if someone recognized me and pointed me out to their friends as the new kid? That thought reminded me that nobody would take the time out of their current conversations to do this; I was definitely not important enough for something like that.

"How was it?" my mother asked as I opened the door and sat down in the passenger's seat. I brushed my hair back and grabbed a few strands to twiddle between my fingers.

"It was fine, it's just school," I said, like it was that simple. I wanted to tell her how truly horrific it had been for me, and I had only been there for a little over half an hour. I wanted to tell her that I couldn't go for a full day tomorrow; I would surely die of embarrassment or just nervousness.

"That's good, I was worried about you." My heart jumped a little as she said that. It gave me the slightest sliver of confidence that there actually was someone in the world that was worried for me, but at the same time, I felt a little miffed.

"If you were really worried, you wouldn't have sent me in the first place. You would have trusted me enough to believe what dad said was all garbage, and you would believe that he doesn't care about me. You know he doesn't, but you just don't want to tell me. You should just believe what I've told you, but you won't do that, because you think I'm some monster that's stolen your real daughter from you, so you had to punish me by making me do something that is going to ruin my life," I shot back, not even aware of what I was saying. I had so much bottled up anger, and its tendencies to spill at unwanted times kind of messed up the attitude I tried to pull off most of the time.

"Morgan, your dad does care about you. You know that, so don't make yourself the victim," she replied as she started the car and pulled out of the parking spot. I didn't want to pity her response to me with another response, so I just kept quiet and stared out the window. Tomorrow was going to be truly awful, but at least it would be a break from the other truly awful aspect; my delusional mother.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Makes my day, week, month, year, etc. :) The story line of Morgan going to a new school hits extremely close to home for me, and I enjoy being able to express the thoughts I've had over the past few months. I've liked having Morgan sharing a few traits with me:)