Title: Zits, Musical Fetishes, and Grades The High-School Drama of An Un-cliqued Asian in a Preppy beyond Prep School

Authors Note: This is very much based upon my first year in high school. That would be last year. All of this stuff happened (well, most of it, really. Most of the guy stuff anyways). I'm not one much for all that Labor Day Vacation stuff, though other Holidays will be represented. I don't like the whole break in the school plot thing.

Names have been substituted to save the ass of this poor Author. Good Lord...I hope none of them ever find me and skin me alive

August 27 First Day of School Friday

...I'm starting to think that I'm going to need a nice, shorter title for this diary.

This...would be my freshman year in high school. My sister insists that I should not go around town yelling "I'm a FRESHMAN IN HIGHSCHOOL!" no matter how excited I am to be leaving the dean of middle school...Herr Orthopedic Shoes. Or is it some other form of German when it's a girl? I haven't the slightest idea. Frau? Jungfrau? What in fresh hell am I talking about?

Whatever. Anyways, apparently me shouting "I'M A FRESHMAN IN HIGHSCHOOL!" from the top of my lungs (not really around town, I can't really go anywhere. No chauffeur, unless you count my sister, who is actually up in college 12 hours or 12 states away...I'm not really sure) because 1. I sound like an idiot, 2. Freshman really sounds very much like shouting "I'M A SIXTH GRADER!" 3. My breath might stink 4. Someone might figure out I'm related to her.

I see her point. Except for the last one. Why wouldn't she want to be related to me?

...Never mind. I get it.

So. Freshman year. Same school as last year, cos it's a private school called Hairy Rat's Ass, HRA for short. No, not really, but it should be. Not because there are a lot of hairy rat's (don't know about hair asses, and once more, I don't want to know). I think the real abbreviation is something about an Academy, as the teachers always refer to it as such, but actually, everyone else calls it either Hairy Rat's Ass or HRA. Thus, I don't give a rat's ass about it. I give a HAIRY one.

Anyways. It's an academy, which means grades 6-12. I believe they were going to try to make it grades K-12, but then our old headmaster left and the new headmaster decided to spend the money elsewhere. IE, a new gym, a new math hall, and firing several very old, very important, probably very annoying good at their jobs teachers.

His name is Mr. Bunny From New York (as he wears bowties, and is thus a bunny rabbit..erh.uhm.right) and since he is from New York, and not the South, he never calls snow days. He does, however, shut down the school for two weeks because of a hurricane, and doesn't make up dates because it was a "national disaster" (much like the grammar of that sentence).

Right. So. First day of school.

I have...one really mental Spanish teacher, who seems to think of me solely as the daughter of her kids. She's not Spanish, she's Portuguese. According to school rumors, she was once a porn star there. Oh, the many joys of a small, southern prep school.

I also have...an extremely good-looking English teacher. This is good. He'll know me by the end of the year. Hopefully, in the Hebraic sense of the word. smirk He's married. He also has a nose. Like THE nose. Maybe if we had kids, my small nonexistent button would cancel out his beak and then we would have kids with normal noses.

The history teacher is right charming old bat. Meaning he carries around a big wooden stick and threatens to hurt you. Much like Teddy Roosevelt. Yes, he will know me by the end of the year, though not Hebraically speaking. That would be WRONG.

Band teacher is my advisor. Help me. She's a double degree from Oberlin. She has a fiancée. She plays the clarinet. She is an Independent Woman. And she also turns the advisory sessions into group therapy. WHYYYYY?? Oh yea. Because I had a crush on a guy before when we were registering for advisors.

The Geometry teacher will die. Must die. His name is Floyd. He talk slowly.

My chorus teacher really shouldn't believe I have perfect pitch. I don't. If I was a pitcher, I'd be cracked.

My biology teacher. My parents are both pediatricians and my sister is studying to be a bio engineer. I hear stuff. Of course, just watch, it will ALL be useless. But the bio teacher is...the stuff of high school guy crushes.

And...then there are the guys. There's several, actually. New ones. High school and all.

There's one in my English class...his name is some type of mythological creature. Was it...Centaur? Pegasus? Hinky-Punk? Fun Mathematics? He's all "Rebel-Without-A-Cause, Dammit". Definitely smart, but makes too big of a deal about being all tough.

Then there's one that looks like a young Severus Snape. I can't believe he's in my grade, he looks about 20. He has long dark hair, a bit of stubble, Alan Rickman-esque hands, and glasses. Dark eyes, pale skin. Very attractive in an evil way. Though he's very shy. I went up to him today after lunch, when we were in the commons area. The whole conversation went something like this:

Me Yelling over crowd-noise: HI!

Him soft voice: Hi

Me: WHAT?

Him: Hi. (slightly louder)

Me: oh! Hi

Me: So nobody here knows your name. What do you call yourself?

Him: WHAT?

Me: So nobody really knows your name. What is it?

Him: WHAT?

Me: What's your name?

Him: Snape-a-like no, not really, but substitution of NAMES here!

Me: WHAT?

Him: SNAPE-A-LIKE

Me: WHAT?

Him: SNAPE-A-LIKE!

Me: OH! SNAPE-A-LIKE?

Him: Yeah

Me: Oh well, hi Jordan. I'm Fon once again, we're substituting names, here.

I walked back in embarrassment.

Shy...but definitely killer something in there. He'll be my project for the year.

August 28 Saturday

Shopping at Office Max with the parental units. Why do I get such an orgasm from getting new mechanical pencils and gel pens (which I never use)? Dad bought me a dry erase calendar. Why couldn't he have just bought me a normal one? Mum was indignant about the cost...apparently, we have pencils at home. I didn't waste any time telling her about my orgies.

August 29 Sunday

Church. I always feel so blasphemous when I yawn during Communion.

August 30 Monday

At school. Surrounded by friends, feeling popular. Actually, I don't really count any of these people as truly close friends-I'm always a bit wary around Miss Plump Blonde Feminist Wannabe. She thinks I tell her everything. I don't. Then the Grecian Short Girl (She's actually rather nice) has a horror of an annoying little brother. The Spoiled Riding Brat and the Spoiled Brat don't seem that thick anymore. They're both blonde. The Blonde Dumb Sluttish Girl is actually rather nice. Too bad about the thong fetish. Then again, every girl here at Hairy Rat's Ass likes to show her...erm...ass with a thong.

Saw Snape-A-Like in the halls. Smiled, mouthed "hi". He didn't see me. Must do this in a more obvious manner.

August 31 Tuesday

Started to wave at Snape-A-Like. Figured that along with Floyd the Molasses Math Mouth (henceforth to be known as "Triple M" or "M to the third turd power") that Mythological Creature from my English class is a poser swot and must be abolished. Despite the fact that he's cute. He thinks he's smart, and the Plump Blonde Feminist...might just have a crush on him. But not me. I'm going for Snape-A-Like.

September 1 Wednesday

Horror of Horrors.

Lunch Today:

Me Walking over to Snape-A-Like at a lunch table: Hi

S-A-L looks up from Characters in Conflict book: Hey. looks down

Me spying particular excerpt of our English book that he's reading for fun: Oooh Amy Tan. She wrote the Joy Luck Club. That's an excellent book Despite the fact that I hadn't really read it at the time.

S-A-L: What?

Me tapping book: Amy Tan.

S-A-L Looking slightly annoyed and confused: Who?

Me: Oh...She wrote that short story

S-A-L: oh

Me: Uhm yea. Asian author.

S-A-L: What was your name again?

Me: Kristen.

I walked away in horror. Miss Plump Feminist started singing "You think he's gorgeous" as if he wasn't in the next table over. Sometimes I wish she wasn't so into studying me like a specimen.

September 2 Thursday

I must get a homecoming date.