High School Nightmare
“You’ll be fine sweetheart,†were the very last words my mother said to me before her car drove away from the Olentangy High School parking lot. It was the first day of school and I had been dreading this day for the previous month and a half. It was gloomy day and the lights inside the building were dim. The School was massive and the faint lights made it seem dark and daunting. There were no students around however I did see some teachers going in. I walk up to the entrance and as my hand reached for the handle I took a deep breath. The hunting thoughts of what goes on in public schools go threw my mind. Bullying, peer pressure, drugs and just plain high school violence scared me. But they did not scary me as much as what other people think about me did. Inside the building there were different hallways and as I looked down them they were empty. I found a spot on the far right wall and sat down. The ground was hard and I was tired. I had not slept in two days. I grabbed my book bag, pulled out my book and started to read. One of my favorite things to do was read. The night before, I had gotten in a fight with my parents. I was lying on my bed and I reached under and got my poetry book out and started to write. The title would be High School, My Nightmare.
The first bell. I didn’t get the whole bell thing. So I was late to my first class, Journalism. Once I finally found the class I looked for a desk in the back and got out a pencil. I felt like I was going to puke. The teacher started to talk and I zoned off. There was a whole class of students. There must have been twenty or even thirty students. I was so used to me and my mom that this was unbelievable. The teacher introduced her self and asks us to stand up and say our name and grade. She started on the other side of the class and that would mean I would be last. I could feel my hands start to shake. I had never spoken in front of so many people. My throat was dry. When it was my turn I stuttered and freaked out. Great you messed up on the first day. Another bell and every one was on the move again. How did they know were and when to go. So many classes, countless amounts of bells and several names to remember.
After half a day of getting lost and trying to open my locker, lunch came. I walked in to the lunch room and got anxious. I had bought my lunch and I was trying to find a seat. That is unbelievably hard when you don’t know anyone. I found a table were no one was sitting and sat down. A group of eight to ten girls came and sat at the very end. They were laughing and talking to each other. They all had makeup on and were so beautiful. I longed to be them and to be able to be so relaxed. It took me five minutes to eat and I got up and grabbed my bag. I walked next to the group of girl and my backpack slipped and barely taped one of the girls back. In less then a second the girl turned around, looking in disgust at me. “What’s your problem, I was eating. Look at you. How dear you. Are you going to say anything?†I couldn’t think of anything to say but I’m sorry. She looked at me like I had done something unbelievable. “You’re sorry?†I could feel a tear fall down my cheek. She turned around and sighed. I ran to the bathroom and got into a stall and started to cry.
The rest of the day was terrifying. More teachers, more students, and more bells. When the day was finally done my brother took me home. He looked at me and asked, “So how was your day?†“Fine†is all I said and for the rest of the ride home we sat in silence. Once I got home I had an amazing feeling of the wait being lifted of my shoulders. Its over with. I had survived the first day of high school. When my Step Dad asked me how it was I lied and said it was fine. “Wasn’t as bad as you though it was going to be, was it?†he asked “No†that was true it had ended up to be worse. I went up the stairs and down the hallway into my room. I sat at my chair and started to think about the day. The feeling of sadness and disgust with my self made me jump into my bed and start to cry.
Another day like the first but this time I sit by my self by a vending machine. I don’t dear go back to the same table. I look out at all the students talking and sitting in groups. I spot a girl who is staring at me. I look away quickly so she doesn’t notice me. She turns to her friends and points at me. My eyes start to form a tear. Are they talking about me? She gets up and walks up to me. Should I move away or stay were I am? I stay trying to act cool as she casually walks up to me. “Do you want to sit with us?†she asks. I nod my head and get up and walk over to her table. It’s a pretty big table and she tells me everyone’s name but I can’t even remember my teacher’s name. Plus there probably just being nice. I sit quietly and say nothing. No one wants to hear what I have to say anyway. At the end of that day I was happy that I had a table and potential friends.
Of curse that did not last long. After a while they didn’t want a freshman sitting by them and they started to forget about me and stop talking to me. Then one of them looked at me funny and mouthed to get away. So I grabbed my backpack and lunch and ran off. From that day on I sat on the top of the stairs by the wigwam. As people came up the stairs they would eye me. Have you hear of the “stairs girl†that was my name for months. A group of girls walked up the stairs every day calling me a freak. They always had a different name to call me and got in my face and asked me if I was going to cry. And every time after they left I would. That was probably the saddest part of my life. After that I just didn’t care anymore. I wanted to run away and never come back. I failed a whole quarter because I just didn’t care what happened to me.
There were times that I though of running a way or just staying home and not caring. But after about 2 months of torture and misery things finely started getting better. I had found some friends and they had friends that they introduced to me. Now days I am great not perfect but much better. I have a hand full of great friends and an amazing boyfriend. They have helped me to become a better person and have stuck up for me when people call me freak. If I could change anything about my past experiences at Olentangy it would be that I wish I was not so much of a clam but I guess if that was so I would not be who I am now.
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