Our Time

     High school sucks. People will tell you that it’s the best years of your life, but I’m telling you now that’s the biggest exaggeration I’ve ever had the misfortune of believing. I mean it, really, high school is the worst way to waste your time, at least that’s been my experience.     You may say I’m being dramatic. My optimistic best friend probably would have said something along the lines of ‘Oh Sal, it’s only the first day. I’m sure things will get better.’ He may have been right too, but why should I listen to his words of advice when he never had to deal with a first day of high school? He’ll never have to deal with any of high school actually, and I’m stuck going through it alone, with enough drama probably for the both of us.     You know, maybe if I were to tell you about my day so far I could really drive my point home, make it stick. For starters, freshman students can’t drive. Really, they should just let us stay in junior high until we can drive, don’t you think? Because there’s nothing quite so embarrassing as your dad screaming to you through the car window as a few seniors giggle by the entrance.     I can deal with my embarrassing dad though, I’m sort of used to it. What comes next is the real problem. You remember that best friend I mentioned a bit ago? Well, he had an older brother, and that older brother has a girlfriend, Megan. She told me once that I was the lowest level of disgusting that she had the misfortune of associating with. Oh, and I can’t forget the part where she told me that if she were my mother, she’d leave too. I was twelve. Needless to say, she’s not my favorite person in the world. So I must say I was shocked when she told her friends to stop laughing at me this morning. I was starting to feel hopeful that she’d matured enough to maybe even tolerate me when she caught up to me in the hallway. She said a few “delightful” words to me. Let me see if I can recall them.     “Sal! It’s been forever! How’ve you been? Oh wait, I don’t care. Do you want to know why I don’t care? It’s because you’re disgusting and now that Charlie’s dead I expect that you avoid me and scamper around as if we don’t know each other. Heh, I bet you were the one who told him to jump.”     It was something along those lines at least. I didn’t, for the record, tell him to jump I mean.     On a few smaller notes, my first-period teacher, Ms. Downs, refuses to call me by any other name than Sally-June. ‘It’s the one my mother gave me after all.’ She said it as if my mom cared about any part of my life at all. It’s sort of nice though, teachers don’t read student files in high school I guess. I haven’t gotten one pitying look for being the girl who’s mom didn’t want her. On another note, I’m joined by both Megan and Jack (my best friend’s older brother) in my second-period class.     They’re pretty nauseating actually, Megan’s always running her fingers through his hair and talking about making out at the homecoming game after-party. Like, who believed high school couples were actually like that? Because I sure didn’t.     Anyway, that’s where I’m at now, sitting behind my self-proclaimed enemy writing in a thoughts journal as my therapist told me to do. I swear this class has been going on for hours now, and I still couldn’t tell you what we’re supposed to be learning. It’s all about making sure your parents sign this and making sure you buy these supplies. Maybe if I memorize the bell schedule, having an end goal will make classes more tolerable, but I say it’s doubtful.     I can't imagine my therapist is going to read this anyway, so I guess this is enough to convince her I'm doing her stupid assignment. - Until next time -