Living in a small town whose name strangely enough reminds me of the name “Pleasantville” is usually a pretty boring existence to lead. Then again, the more unique you are, the more difficult it will make your life, your existence. Tell this to my parents as much as I might, it doesn’t seem to get the message through. We moved here about half of a month ago and already my life is a living hell. The problem with my very only Pleasantville is that everyone has known everyone else for their whole lives, then comes along the stranger, i.e. me, and suddenly its like a virus has tried to invade a special DNA sequence, and attack mechanism are brought up. We moved here over Christmas break, or for those people who don’t celebrate Christmas, “Winter Break” just to be politically correct and all that. So for the first fourteen days we spent our time unpacking, and school wasn’t an issue since it didn’t start back up until the sixth of January, today. I had walked into the main office with every intention of telling them that me registering here was a mistake, and could they please transfer back to my old school in Colorado? However before the words even got out of my mouth, an elderly woman who was wearing a dark purple floral print and seemed to be the size of a small Free Willy and smelled like the back of my grandmother’s closet had bustled up to me.

“You must be the new student, Elizabeth Dillinger?” she said holding out her hand, I merely nodded, and made a decision then and there. From now on I would no longer go by my middle name, which I had been called by my whole life previous to this experience. No, Gia Dillinger was gone, and she would stay back in Colorado, so she could be happy, from now on I was Elizabeth. “I’m Mrs. Hall, your principal.” Now maybe it’s a Texan thing, but back in Colorado, your principal didn’t come and greet you on your first day of school. I merely nodded again, and as she began to prattle off on some school rules or policies or something, a feeling of numbness began to overtake me. And by the time I came back to reality she was handing me two small slips of paper and calling another student over. The papers, she informed me, were my schedule and a map to the school, which I would evidently need since it was three stories tall with four wings. “Now, Mich here will show you to your first period class and then you can ask your teachers for directions to the rest of them.” She said and gave me a hearty “pat” on the back which sent me reeling forward a step so that I nearly dropped my book bag. As soon as we get out of the main office Mich yanks the schedule out of my hands.

“Come quickly now children, wouldn’t want to get too lost now would we?” He asks, and I glace around, wondering if he’s actually talking to someone other than me or if he’s just that off of his rocker. We’re the only people in the hallway so I go for the later choice. And as I watch him walk I see that he has a sort of crazy half bounce in his step, but only on the right foot. Raising my eyebrows I follow him towards what I assume is to be my first period class. “So where did we move from?” he asks suddenly turning around, walking backwards down the hall, and then the stairs.

“Colorado.” I try to keep my sentences concise and short so as not to distract him so that he hopefully wont tumble down the steps to a bloody death by handrails. But he didn’t respond to my answer in any way other than two raised eyebrows and a low whistle as he turned back around and jauntily walked around the corner. When I round the corner I see him there, standing with his arms out in front of the door.

“Welcome to your own personal hell for the next hour and a half, all passengers please exit to your right, and remember kiddies, hands and feet inside of the ride at all times. Next stop, the dungeon of death, otherwise known as the public toilets. Now Miss Dillinger, it was a pleasure to escort you and your friends to the first period of the day, but do your best to remember that first impressions can last a life time, so don’t trip over the threshold.” And with that he pushed me into the room. And so concludes the story of how I did end up tripping over the threshold of my first period class, and falling flat on my face, making a laughing stock of myself, and being sent to the nurses office for a nose bleed. In conclusion, life’s a bitch.

Please Read and Review, I want to know weather or not to continue on with the story line…..