By: Melanippe

The principal stepped up to the podium and said something that was drowned out by the piercing noise coming from the speakers. Principal Peters winced and turned to Mr. Allen, who was frantically trying to adjust the volume. Peters tried again. "Hello Lester High School! Are we ready for a new school year?"

Several people cheered, others booed, and several gave painful moans. I myself remained silent. My best friend, Rachel, sat beside me, her normal white-girl hyperness on full force. She was one of the few that cheered, and loudly. I think she was more excited about the fact that this year we were seniors, and according to her and Darcia we were going to rule the school. I doubted that very much, and anyone who looked at me would too. Jet black hair, dark brown eyes covered by owlish glasses and a size sixteen (on a very good day) frame was me in a nutshell. Of course my friends always point out my charming personality (insert laugh here). Being overwieght, hispanic and extremely shy at times doesn't, in my opinion, work to my benefit. Perhaps I need to work on my people skills. Having more friends is always a plus. There are a lot of kids from my neighborhood that go to school here. Then again it would be better if I spoke more than broken Spanish, then maybe I wouldn't get weird looks from people...I just think it is wrong to assume someone can speak a language just because they happen to be Mexican-American. Stereotyping bastards.

I focused back on Mr. Peters who was rambling on and on about how great this year was going to be. I don't understand how they can think things will improve so much. By the end of October they usually wise up and realize that most of the school doesn't really care one way or another about the dress code, going to class, or test scores. Until then, we endure their lectures on how well we have or have not been doing, how we can improve. Fortunately I never really have to worry about that. Being the reliable and hard-working person they consider me to be, the administration office left me alone to continue in my "rise to excellence." My grades aren't the best, but I have a 3.08 GPA, no referrals, no court dates, and definitely no truancy claims. I am the good girl, Miss Never-Does-Anything-Wrong. The one that everyone thinks is ok, that is not entirely a brain, not all that popular, not totally a reject, okay with extracurriculars, and able to get along with just about everybody. In definition: Normal. I wish that was true. It would be so much simpler if I was. I have had the term "Goody Two Shoes" and "Brainiac" labels tacked on me. Sure, my actions, or lack thereof do make it seem like I am nothing more than a school loving, rule following zombie, but it's not completely true.

"...and here are the LHS Cheerleaders!" Mr. Peters cried.

Turning my attention once again away from my rambling brain, everyone watched the girls streaming into the gymnasium. The familiar stereotype is that these girls were sluts and bimbos, but in this case that is far from the truth. Several of the cheerleaders I knew personally, and I know for a fact that they are not stupid, or slutty. I am not speaking for all of the cheerleaders of course. I watched as one in particular entered, Helen Hartly, the teenage male's walking embodiment of sex on legs. Their little demonstration began as the cheerleaders attempted to keep together, but there was always that one who was behind, or ahead. When the final bar faded away I shifted in my seat, relieved.

Mr. Skyrhill came up to the microphone, shook hands with Mr. Peters and spoke stiffly into the microphone, "Hello LHS, I hope you all had a nice summer."

The gymnasium broke out in a fever of applause and several obscene comments could be heard among the crowd.

Mr. Skyrhill shifted his weight, and I could see a pink color tint his face. He waited until everyone quieted, and continued. "Now I want to speak about the school rules for those incoming freshman, and as a reminder to the rest of you returning upper classmen..."

My eyes were beginning to get heavy. Three years of this crap was enough to put anyone to sleep. The same tired lecture over and over again. No using cell phones during class, no hoochy-mama clothes or pants around your knees showing guys non-existent butts, blah blah blah. Such bologna is not good this early in the morning.

Mr. Peters returned to the microphone, thanked Mr. Skyrhill and smiled out at us. "I hope you all help us to make this year the best possible! Now, your counselors are stationed at tables in the gym foyer, and you can get your schedules from them. They are arranged in alphabetical order, so get in line according to your last name. Thank you."

Simultaneously, half the gymnasium rose out of their seats and began the fearful and difficult journey to the front of the gym. Instead of dangering the trek, I instead decided to wait until most of the gym was empty. After several minutes, Rachel and I stood and headed for the front. I forced a smile on my face as Mrs. White came into view. That woman had been my counselor since sixth grade. Both she and Mr. Peters followed us from middle school. We thought we were rid of them, but they popped right back into our lives...like daisies!

"Hello Noemi," Mrs. White said, a sugary smile on her face.

"Hello Mrs. White. How was your summer vacation?" I asked politely.

"Oh, well my husband and I went on a trip to visit Gracie and her husband in Florida."

I felt my memory flash me an image of the photos that Mrs. White had showed me over the years of her children. Gracie was the one who married the computer guy...I think. I really know way to much about this woman. But what could I do when she called me to her office and tried to talk to me about my future. I zoned out most of the time, but she really was a hard person to ignore, no matter how hard anyone tried.

"That's nice." I watched as she shuffled through her pile of papers.

"So, how was your vacation dear?" She asked absently.

I tried not to bristle at the unwanted endearment and answered truthfully. "I sat at home, watched TV, slept for the majority of the summer. All fun."

Mrs. White smiled and handed me my schedule. "How nice dear. Be sure to work hard this year. It's your last year in high school, but you still need to work hard."

Nodding absently, I took my schedule, turned away before rolling my eyes. I waited for Rachel to get her schedule, then we walked outside. We followed the sidewalk and the crowd of people as they moved to find their friends and say hello. The bell for the start of first rang and Rachel looked down at her schedule. "Great, Chemistry," she muttered.

"What teacher?" I asked.

"Mr. Goldwyn," she replied, a grimace on her face.

Ouch. I remember him from IPC last year. The man was uptight to the extreme. And of course he considered me his best student. I had always liked science. Unfortunately, his voice was so droning, that I usually fell asleep in his class. Glancing down at my schedule, my eyes widened in dismay. "Damn it," I cried. "I have him again this year. Chemistry, fifth period. God..."

Rachel laughed. We shared a hug and she walked into the main building, while I headed toward the fine arts buildings. I didn't need to look down at my schedule to know what my first period class was: Orchestra. I entered the Orchestra Hall and was greeted by Jorge and Chang, two really funny guys. Mrs. Nelson was in her office, speaking on the phone. I hurried into the Bass Closet and searched the small lockers for an available violin that was in good condition. Then I took a seat beside my stand partner, Sarah. She smiled at me. "What up Noe?"

I smiled back. "Nothing. I can't wait for school to end."

Sarah laughed. "School just started and you can't wait for it to end?"

Jorge sat across from us, in the cello section. He was lucky enough to be first chair cello player, as he was the only one good enough and dedicated enough in his section...so far. I eyed the freshmen. Eh...nothing to special. Jorge had been listening to our talk apparently, because he inserted "Man Noe, the day barely began and you are already thinking about graduation."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Shut up, cello."

He smiled. "Make me, violin!"

"Stop molesting the children Noe!" Sarah said, her and Chang laughing at her joke. Jorge sat back in his seat with a funny look on his face.

"You people are weird," he said.

"And?" I said, laughing more. Poor Jorge. He has only dealt with us for one year and we are already messing with his mind. Sweet!

Mrs. Nelson walked out of her office with a large folder in her hands. Aw hell.

"Alright everyone, I have some music to pass out," she announced.

All sections groaned, and reluctantly took the music from her. "Oh goodie," I muttered under my breathe. Sarah heard me and poked me with her bow. I poked her back. After almost a minute of that, Mrs. Nelson sighed.

"Grow up, please."

Sarah and I sat straighter in our seats and waited until she was looking away to resume our little poke war. Just as she turned back around we resumed our at rest positions.

"Okay everyone, I just want you all to take a look at this piece. We are going to play through it. I want to see what level of playing we are at right now. I will stop class ten minutes before the bell so you can fill out the information forms." Mrs. Nelson hit her baton on her personal stand and held her hands up. All instruments rose, bows on strings. She gave four beats, then I lost myself in the music.

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A/N: Just decided to go over this story and change things up. I am soooo not used to stories in the first person! Anyway, the main character's named Noemi, pronounced No- em- e. Noe for short (No- e). A couple of names have changed as well as some of the paragraphs I thought were terrible. I need a beta! Haha! Anyway, hopefully this newly revised chapter is better than it had been before. Feedback welcome, and appreciated. Chao!