"This is total bullshit!" I sighed, frustrated and upset. "Liv! Language!" My mom was quick to chastise. We sat in the counselor's office at Washington Memorial High School, and before stepping out of the office to answer a phone call, we had just been informed that due to a "credit transfer issue" I would be held back a semester. This meant that I would be starting senior year from scratch when school started in a few weeks, rather than having those extra classes I'd taken get me out a semester early.
I was furious, and I felt like I was going to cry. I hadn't wanted to move. I hadn't wanted to totally uproot my life and move to the south, and I sure as hell didn't want my work over the summer to count for nothing. But...there I was. After my parent's divorce was complete she whisked us from our home in Seattle to a suburb of Atlanta, Georgia. The home I had grown up in, the home that I loved had been packed into boxes and loaded onto a truck, and as the doors locked shut my fate was sealed.
Her work was opening a new regional office in downtown Atlanta, and she volunteered to go, sight unseen. Rented a townhouse, sight unseen. Completely tumbled our lives, sight unseen.
Zoning back in to the loud squeak of the counselor sitting back down in an aging desk chair, I said the first thing that came to mind, grasping for some kind of threat in my fluster. "I'm 18, I should just drop out."
"Olivia, I process drop out paperwork all the time, and if that's really what you waβ" The counselor began to say before being cut off.
"She'll be doing no such thing!" My mom retorted.
I sighed. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. "I did classes all summer, and now its wasted!" I choked out as the tears began to fall.
"Ms. Ross, I know you're very frustrated, but my hands are tied. That being said, your paperwork is complete, welcome to Washington Memorial. Now, I hate to rush you out but I have another appointment." The counselor said flatly.
The next three days were sort of a haze, me crying, my mom telling me not to cry and "look on the bright side." As if there was one. My friends from Seattle promised to keep in touch, but I knew that with the passing weeks they would drop off, out of sight, out of mind.
At least my boyfriend Zach had the guts to actually dump me before I left, claiming "I just don't want to hold you back."
And so, Monday morning at 8:15, I slumped down in a chair in my new home room class, only to find out at roll call that I was in the wrong room. In a rush I ran to the other side of the building and now, 12 minutes late, sat in the only desk remaining in the room. The old crone at the front of the room sneered, "Ms. Ross I presume?" and after turning a dark shade of red I nodded. "Wrong room, yes, sure, whatever. You better not be late again." I sighed and put my head in my hands, embarrassed and vulnerable. I felt totally out of my element.
My anxious blur was interrupted by a finger tap on my shoulder and the corner of a post-it note brushing my arm. The note read "Don't worry, she's always a bitch! π" And when I quickly turned around I saw that it was from a short haired brunette who smiled wide.
I wrote back "I'm Olivia, I just moved here." And slipped it behind me when the teacher turned her back again, careful not to let the teacher see.
"Somehow I guessed from your generally disheveled look. I'm Erin lol" She slid back. I had to cover my mouth not to laugh.
"I picked the first clean things in the top of the boxes. I actually put my shorts on backwards. #fail." And slipped it back. We switched to lined paper and continued our note passing until the crone was cut off by the bell, releasing us from her evil grasp.
When we all stood up and grabbed our bags I turned around and grinned wide at my new friend, who upon standing was, well, very goth, and very petite. If she stood on a book she might be all of 5'0", and she had to weigh less than 100 pounds. She sported black mid-thigh shorts with wallet chains that I don't even think attached to anything, a Misfits shirt, and winged eyeliner in the darkest black available.
"Okay, we've got a few minutes, let me see the ensemble." She laughed, gesturing to my outfit. Somehow in my haste I had ended up with:
A) Magenta tank top with a coffee shop's logo on it
B) Jean shorts cut at a relatively conservative length, sporting a monkey patch on the hip that my mom had sewed on freshman year (why do I still have these?)
C) A loose black cardigan that was far too wrinkled for me to normally wear
D) Converse hi-tops, and finally-
E) Mismatched socks.
"Oh god." I laughed, slightly mortified. "I'd maybe bag the cardigan, but otherwise you look fine." She laughed. "Let me see your schedule 'Ms. Ross'" Giggling as she mimicked the teachers tone. I lucked out and we had 3 of 5 periods together, including lunch. "Looks like I'll be your shepherd today." Something about her was totally disarming, even with her attempted goth look.
"I'll drop you off at Chemistry and meet you in the trailers for English." And off we went. I found a chair in the back of Chemistry and fought to keep my eyes open. I had covered all of this during my now-defunct summer courses. A few people shot me looks, and one or two were even polite enough to say hi, but no one extended the welcome like Erin did.