See Me After Class

firsts & lasts

the pain i felt as my mom forced me to stand on the front step of house was one that every child feels on their first day of school. but, today i wasn't going to put up a fight because it was a milestone for both of my parents; their only daughter's last first day of school.

most people would have dreaded today. but i am not most people. i did not see today as the end of my summer, but as the beginning of the next chapter in my life. after nine agonizing months of busy work and avoiding idiotic people, i would finally be free.

the second i was handed that diploma, i was getting into a car with my parents and road tripping all the way across the country to redlands, california. when the fall came, i would be a freshman at my dream school, working to get my english major. for now, i was working on my first novel. i had so many ideas of where i wanted it to go and how i wanted it to feel, but it was just a plot outline and a graphic organizer.

school had always been something that i excelled at, and english was my best subject. creative writing was my forte, and essays were a breeze. i don't think i ever started an english paper more than four hours prior to its due date. teachers always loved my writing and gave me those craved one-hundreds.

i'm not trying to brag, though. the point of all of this isn't to talk about how successful i was, or how successful i'm going to be. i can't quite think of a smooth way to transition to the point of the story, so, here it is:

you know all of those great loves you always read about? the scandalous and the pure; the exciting and the boring; the happily ever after and the happily never after. the ones that go through trials before they even start and the ones that struggle in the midst of all the magic.

this is not one of those stories. nonetheless, ours was a great love. it is a great love. there was not a single thing right about it, but we didn't care. it's not like i was underrage. i was eighteen within the first month of school, and we didn't even become anything until much much later. oh, but we felt something and we felt something right from the start.

it all started that third monday of my thirteenth school year. it all started when he left a note in his neat handwriting that read SEE ME AFTER CLASS.

but, of course, we aren't there quite yet. no, we're still on my front porch as i'm being forced to pose for a picture.

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"wesley, please just smile," my mother pleaded with me.

i groaned then contorted my face into a painfully fake expression of joy. my dad watched the whole scene play out before him, occasionally laughing at our dysfunctionality. the camera just kept making shutter noises as it took far too many pictures. it felt like eternity before i was finally allowed to leave.

as i climbed into my old truck, i thought of how i couldn't be less excited for today. being crammed into small rooms with people that had the intelligence of doorknobs, pretending like none of us knew each other, and playing icebreakers was not my idea of a good time. maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if i had had friends to sit with at lunch, but all of my friends graduated last year. the only two people i had left were dating, leaving me as an unpleasant third wheel. soon enough, it'll be my turn to leave, but for now, i was stuck here.

the loud noise of my diesel truck echoed throughout the crowded parking lot as i parked in my spot. i had showed up at the front office the second they opened to get this spot; the one closest to the entrance. or, as i saw it, the exit. all eyes were on me as i stepped out of my ancient vehicle. they probably thought i was some unfortunate poor soul with no money to speak of, but in all honesty, i just really liked my truck. it kind of reminded me of bella's from twilight.

my dr. martens clunked against the sidewalk with each step i took. i knew that everyone was staring at my outfit, because who wears jeans and boots on the first day of school in the heat of august? crowds of people moved out of my way as i walked into the building. it was probably the expression on my face that scared everyone away. people tended to avoid me.

most of the students knew that i was friendly underneath my scowl, they just never felt like getting to know me, especially after everything, and i was fine with that. teachers were the ones i cared about, and they always liked me.

now, don't get the impression that i was one of those girls who hated everyone and everything, and that i thrived off of negativity, because i wasn't. i just had a low tolerance for stupid people, but that didn't mean i was rude to them. as i said, everyone knew that i was a nice person and would have pleasant conversations with me in class.

the table that held my schedule came into view. i quickly gave the guidance counselor my school i.d. then picked up my paper. looking over the list of classes, i decided that it wasn't a bad one.

first -- calculus bc -- thomas, annie m. -- 280

second -- flex -- spicer, nick r. -- 147

third -- ap gov -- willis, betty s. -- 150

fourth -- etymology -- smith, darryl p, -- 207

fifth -- ap french -- desrosiers, marie r. -- 113

sixth -- ap physics -- phillips, susan g. -- 267

seventh -- ap lit -- styles, harry e. -- 202

eighth -- early release/study hall -- n/a -- auditorium

maybe i could've been a little more optimistic about that day since it was my last first day of high school ever. it's okay though, the nostalgia won't hit me for a few years, so i won't be regretting it for a while. walking in and out of each room that day felt like a chore. it took so long for lunch to come around, but i was grateful when it did. the library was always where i went for my lunch periods, because it was less obvious that i didn't have anyone to sit with. it just looked like i had had college applications to work on.

i don't think i could have ever predicted how important this day would be to me. the thought of someone so incredible coming into my life wasn't one that had crossed my mind. who could have predicted that all of this would've happened? not me, that's who.

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a/n

and so it begins

xx. ashton