2 Chapter 2: First day

Chapter 2: First day

It’s a bit earlier when we arrived at school, which was really bad for me.

I glanced around for any sign of my friends Elaine Trancy or Christine Peralta, but I couldn’t see any sign yet. I feel so lonely, but I also couldn’t take my eyes away from the school sign that reads: “Wrenchplains High School.”

I took a deep breath because I could not believe that I survived elementary school, and now it’s another world. One deep breath, and I’m ready to begin a new life.

Corey and Greg got out first. Greg’s holding a badminton racket, while the other pair was sticking out from his bag pack. Corey’s also holding his guitar. I wonder if they just go to school to show their stuff to everyone.

Somehow, I was glad Trevor’s not telling me to go out yet when he switched off the engine. “I’m sure your friends are late or just around. Don’t worry, you won’t be alone,” he said, as if reading my mind.

“Good luck, Hailey!” The twins called back.

I smile genuinely at Trevor for his concern, but of course, it was as transient as it could be. “C’mon, I don’t want to be late. You better go out now,” Trevor reminded. So much for brotherly care, I thought.

“Text me if you would want a ride going home.” He called back and pulled out from the driveway to park the car nearby along with the other gigantic trucks and elegant mini coppers (I could not believe the number of rich kids in high school).

I watched him as he responsibly secured the car from carnappers. He flipped the pages of his books and scanned it by page while walking without bothering to look up to where he is heading to. Such a stereotypical genius my brother is.

The girls whom he passively passed by along the way greeted him with a few giggles. That is the only time he looked up and smiled casually at them, to the girls’ delight.

I observe around and saw my brothers with their friends. Greg’s with his soccer team and Corey’s with the school band that plays all kinds of instruments. The big boys gave each other some high fives whenever someone cracks a corny joke, or one of them whistles at some beautiful girl who passed by them along the hallway.

I’m like some first grader who lost her mom in the first day of classes, and I can feel my tears forming in my eyes to realize how alone I really was despite the sea of faces rushing by me. I am familiar with some people who came from the same middle school as I did, but I have this kind of animosity toward them.

The classic Hollywood cultural definition of a loser at school is when you suck at sports or you wear clothes like your grandmother’s. But I can’t be, right? I mean I’m the popular trio’s sister, and if any of the girls would bully me then they would lose a ticket to date one of my brothers.

I succumbed to my loneliness as I walked through the hallways, tried to avoid everybody’s way by slouching and looking down.

I saw couples dating by the benches, cheerleaders flirting with the soccer players, people reading their books by the lockers, skateboarders showing off their skills, and normal people like me who were just trying to look for their classrooms.

And what I mean by “normal” is nothing really special. I really hate stereotypes, but stereotypes really exist. Even now during my first day of high school, I am already concluding that I am officially in the playground of stereotypes like what I see at the movies.

Movies are actually derived from real life, so it couldn’t be denied that the high school scene is really a battleground of personalities. I located my locker at the end of the hallway which is number seven (My mom enrolled me the earliest so I’ve got to pick my locker number!).

I hastily placed all my books inside. Just as when I closed my locker, familiar voices changed everything.

“Hailey!” I heard the angels sing from heaven. Elaine Perez and Christine Peralta are finally standing in front of me with their lipgloss smiles and wide eyes.

“Group hug!” I suddenly exclaim, and the three of us embrace each other. We could barely breathe because of the overwhelming perfume and car fumes. You can’t blame us. The whole summer, I was in Mindanao with my grandparents while learning piano with Greg. Elaine was in Manila with her mom for her mom's annulment case, while Christine was left in Wrenchplains .

I scrutinize Christine and then compliments, “I love your hair, Chris.”

I notice the big change. And I admit that the two of them changed a lot. How could one summer just turn them into dazzling damsels while I’m left as a homely pauper? Christine got curly black hair and glasses in elementary school and now, she got her hair straightened and started wearing contacts. She also have deep brown eyes. She’s tall and athletic. And one thing really disgusting, she got a crush on Gregory, just because he got into the soccer team two years ago.

“And you removed your braces now, huh?” I told Elaine.

“Yeah, I really don’t want to be called as metal-mouth anymore,” she said while laughing. Elaine has brown hair, lighter than mine, and puppy-like brown eyes, which she uses to flatter boys around by purposely blinking it many times to get what she wants. She’s as tall as me and has the fascination of battling her eyes at cute tall guys.

Both of them were wearing clothes they bought from their savings from last summer with Elaine working as a part-time English teacher in Italy and Christine tending to hamsters at a pet shop. They all worked all summer while I was wasting my time and energy in halfheartedly learning to play the music of Beethoven, which I was enthusiastic at first but got bored after a while.

“Are you in Mr. Libertad’s history class?” Elaine asked me.

I checked my schedule which I wrote inside my notebook. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Great! We are miraculously classmates for the first period! We’ll see you in lunch, Christine.” Elaine waved at our contact lenses-wearing friend before grabbing my arm for us to look for our classroom.

At the same time, the bell rang to signify for the flag ceremony.

More people came rushing by with careless banging of the lockers and bumping into each other.

This is my first flag ceremony in high school, I thought as I walked with Elaine.

Flag ceremonies every start of the classes in the morning are common all the morning. It’s when we sing the Philippine National Anthem, Lupang Hinirang, and recite the school’s vision and mission.

Most people usually get late for it. It’s actually embarrassing because everyone would glance behind them and wonder how negligent could you be with the time.

Flag ceremonies are where students gather at the school grounds by lining up with their respective sections. The section you belong to was the class where your Homeroom teacher was assigned to.

“C’mon, let’s go together.” Elaine smiled. “We’re in the same section, right?”

I’m glad that we’re both in the same Homeroom section with Elaine. It’s too scary not to have any friend at the Homeroom section you’re assigned to for the whole year.

Now, I feel bad for Christine who was at a different section. I wish that the educational system would actually grant students’ wishes to have all of their friends in the same Homeroom section.