You already know my first day of high school got off to a bad start. Here’s what happened next: just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, my teacher said, “Thagsana, you can’t sit down without introducing yourself to the class!” Then, noticing the sudden enlargement of my eyes, she added: “You can hold my hand if you’d like!”
I was beginning to think that Ms. Antidepressant was trying to ruin my life.
“No thanks,” I said. I got off the stool and proceeded to the front of the class. As I made my trip, stressing over what I—queen of all that is boring—was going to say, I was struck with a brilliant idea: since acting like myself wasn’t going to impress anyone, I’d simply put on an act. I was torn between happy-go-lucky and I’ll-eat-your-face; after much consideration, I settled on the former, because who could hate on a cheerful soul, right? With that mindset, I was off: “Hi everyone! My name’s Thagsana! This class is going to be so much FUN! I can’t wait to get to know each one of you! I‘m sure we’ll all be great buds some DAY! Hip, hip hooRAY! Hey, I rhymed!” As I stood there with a cheerleader-like grin on my face, I was met by absolute silence. Clearly, my classmates weren’t fans of cheerful souls. Humiliated, I returned to my leather stool, placed an English textbook in front of my face, and laid my head down on the table.
When the bell rang for second period, I looked up to see notes on the history of Old English scattered all over the board. Next to them, the teacher had written: “Test next class!” and underlined it three times.
If I copied the notes, I'd be late for my next class. I dug into my pocket once more and unfolded the course schedule. Next to "Period Two," it read "PPL10F-04 in Gym 3." After wandering the maze of the boys’ locker room just an hour ago, I had a pretty good idea of where to look.
I hurried out of the room and made my way down the stairs. I stopped when I heard something: a fluttering noise. Had birds from heaven come to save me from this horrible place? While I considered the odds, I realized that the fluttering noise was gone. But when I started towards the door, the noise returned. To ensure that I wasn’t hallucinating, I moved to the right, stopped, then moved to the left, and stopped. I continued the process for about a minute. To an onlooker, it would appear as if I was in the middle of a Michael Jackson dance routine. In this case, the song was: "Flutter, no flutter, flutter, no flutter, and flutter again." Convinced I’d lost my mind, I continued down the hall and ignored the fluttering. Along the way, I heard a few snickers here and there, but I figured it was a result of being caught "getting my groove on." I had a new nickname to add to the list: "Mini-Michael-Jackson."
Finally, I found the door to Gym 3. Learning from my embarrassing entrance in English class, I decided to simply walk in. I regretted it instantly. Just as I stepped inside, I was pelted in the face with a giant red dodge ball. Like a Bozo the Clown punching bag, I swayed back and forth until I finally hit the ground. Everything went black.
I woke up on a bed in the nurse’s office. A white patch was taped to my left eye; I added "Piratess" to my nickname list. A brawny woman with a whistle hanging from her neck sat next to me. I assumed she was my gym teacher. “I’m really sorry about that, hun! Charlotte didn’t see ya there!” she shouted, spitting in the process.
“Yeah, that’s okay,” I choked out. “What time is it?”
“It’s 3:45. Ya snoozed through the entire day, kid! Your mum’s been waitin’ for ya outside.”
With that, I catapulted out of the bed, nearly hitting Ms. Musclepants in the face. Running at the speed of light, I sprinted towards the black car in the middle of the lot, busted the side door open, and hopped in like my life depended on it. But Ms. Musclepants had followed me to the car, and she appeared at my window, flailing a sheet of paper in her hand. I hoped it was a check for the damage Charlotte had done to my face. “I forgot to give ya this! It fell off your back when ya fainted.” She dropped the sheet into my lap, and I flipped it over. The phrase “Kick Me” was written on the paper in permanent black marker. Well, that explained the fluttering sound.