Stranger

Nora

           

The following morning, my alarm clock went off at 7 a.m.  I groaned and turned over, realizing today was the day I had to start school again.  On top of that, it was a brand new school made for nerds.  School had never been my gig, so I wasn't sure how this was going to go.  I reluctantly threw off the sheets and hopped in the shower.

I dressed in my usual – jean shorts and a shirt – and headed to the kitchen. As promised, my dad was also up, ready to take the subway to school with me.  He tried to psych me up, but I wasn't having it.  No one said I had to be excited about this.  I picked up my backpack, filled with brand new notebooks, folders, and freshly sharpened pencils.  I trailed behind my dad as he walked into the building.  We went straight to the main office.  He made me introduce myself and do the talking.

"Um, hi," I began, looking at the secretary.  "I'm Nora Thomas and I'm starting school here today."

"Welcome, Nora," she smiled.  "I have your schedule right here."  She found my schedule on her desk and handed it over, along with a map.

"Most of your classes are over here in the middle school wing," she pointed it out on the map.  "You'll have P.E. in the gym, obviously, and the lunch room is right next door.

I glanced over my schedule, finding the usual – Mathematics, Earth Science, English, Social Studies, P.E., study hall, and lunch.

"Your locker number is 1362, which is in the middle school hallway," she told me.  "First period starts in about ten minutes."

"Thank you," I told her, and we began to walk out of the main office.  I felt eyes on me, or maybe they were staring at my dad.  He was kind of famous, after all.

"Do you want me to help you find your locker and your first class?" He offered.

"No thanks," I told him.

He nodded, probably figuring I wouldn't want any more of his help. 

"Okay," he said.  "Do you know what train to take to get home?"

"Yes," I told him, looking down at my skateboarding shoes.

"Great," he said.  "Well, have a good day, sweetheart."

Sweetheart?  Gag.  I turned quickly and hurried off towards the middle school hallway to find my locker.  I found it easily enough and managed to enter the combination correctly on my third try.  My locker was bare, obviously.  I would have to bring in some decorations from home tomorrow.  I slammed my door shut and then took a look at my schedule.  First period was math.  What a great way to start the day.

I took an empty seat, and I was one of the first kids to come in.  I sat silently as the other kids streamed in, each glancing at me, scoping me out.  I didn't like it.  If anyone thought they were going to intimidate me or pick on me, I would show them I wasn't to be taken lightly.  I might be small, but I wasn't to be messed with.

Soon, the bell rang and the teacher began.  They were working on solving equations with variables on both sides.  We'd just covered this at my other school.  The teacher went fast, writing things on the white board.  I think I understood everything she was getting at.  Towards the end of class, she wrote tonight's homework assignment up on the board.  Fifty problems!  That seemed excessive.  The bell rang and I moved with the herd towards second period.

The rest of the day was a blur.  Some classes, especially English, I felt pretty confident in.  Other classes I was lost.  In Social Studies, the kids were all doing research assignments.  They all seemed to know how to use the databases and knew what websites to go to.  We never did research at Altman.  I just looked at what the girl next to me was doing and tried to do the same.

By the end of the day, my brain was fried.  I had gotten homework in every class.  It was going to take me hours.  Was this a normal day?  If  I was going to have spend all evening doing homework, I'm not sure if I'd be able to handle it here.  I gratefully left the building at the end of the day and caught the subway home.  Dad was there, waiting expectantly to hear all about my day.  If he hadn't figured it out yet, I wasn't much of a talker.

"How'd it go?" He asked as I set my backpack down.  It was heavy with textbooks.

"Fine I guess," I said, going straight to the pantry for a snack.

"Did everything make sense?"

"No, they were speaking in Mandarin Chinese," I said sarcastically.

"I mean, were you able to keep up?"

"Yeah, mostly," I said.  "Social Studies seems like it will be hard."

"They do a lot of project based learning in Social Studies," he commented.  "Did you get much homework?"

"A ton," I told him.  At Altman, I rarely bothered with homework.  If they thought I was going to spend 8 hours a day at school and then do 3 hours of homework on top of that, they were insane.  I'd do some of it, just enough to show I was paying attention.  I always scored well on tests.  I didn't see the point of having to jump through the hoops of doing homework.

"Let me know if you need any help," he told me before I disappeared to my room.

I belly flopped onto my bed and immediately pulled out my little journal and began writing.

                Eyes look at me

                Judging me, Scrutinizing me

                You have no idea who I am

                You have no idea my life

                You go home to a perfect house

                Nuclear family and a golden retriever

                Just because my past is broken

                That I come from the ghetto

                Do you think I'm weak?

                That I'm stupid?

                There's a million things you don't know about me