September 5th

Cady

September fifth. My eyes pop open. First day of school. I thought I’d finished my years of being nervous on the first day back in middle school. Surprising what a little thing like moving can do to your nerves.

I’m kind of glad school’s starting, though. For once in my life. The first five days here were a boring mess of unpacking and spending time with Mom. Spending too much time with Mom can get depressing after awhile.

And every night I fell asleep to the sound of music coming from the house next door. More specifically to from the room behind the black curtains. Really dark, creepy music too… it kind of scared me at first. Definitely not my type of music- I don’t understand why anyone would want to listen to that for entertainment. Especially as a lullaby.

But now… I guess I’m kind of getting used to it. There’s something inside me dark and angry, anyway.

I don’t know what to wear. My heart is beating in my chest. I’m feeling dark and angry but I still want to be liked. Maybe not as much as Melody does. Damn, I’m sure she picked out a first day of school outfit before we even moved here.

Finally I settle in my usual: jeans and t-shirt. No sense pretending to be somebody I’m not, right? Throw a notebook and a pen into my backpack… and that’s it. I’m good to go.

When I get downstairs I see Mom drinking coffee at the kitchen table. She gets up to pour me a glass of orange juice. She always wants me to get a healthy start. Melody has already left for school. Leave it to her to want to be early when there’s nothing to be early for.

I chug the orange juice and say goodbye. As I pass the Carsons’ house on the way to school, I kind of slow down, hoping the mysterious dark-music dark-curtain loving tenth-grade boy will come out as I’m walking by. But of course he doesn’t. And I don’t know why I’m so fucking interested anyway. It’s frustrating me. Maybe because curtain boy is the closest thing I have to knowing someone in this town.

When I get to the school building- just a few blocks down, make a left, another couple of blocks- I see a group of kids standing outside it. The jocks and cheerleaders in one group. Melody’s standing in the middle of a group of girls near the jocks. She’s chatting it up and I’m sure they’re starting to love her already.

I’m not exactly sure where to stand so I kind of keep surveying the scene. None of the other groups of kids really stand out. And then there are a few other sorry kids like me standing alone. One of them is a boy with longish hair wearing all black; his ears are covered by expensive looking headphones. He doesn’t have the healthy-looking summer tan that the other kids do. I have a feeling I’ve found curtain boy.

Melody

When I get to Belleville High this morning, it’s early, so there aren’t too many kids out in front of it yet. I study the building. It’s smaller than my old school, so it shouldn’t be too hard to take over.

Then I observe the girls and try to decide which group I want to break into. I pick the friendliest looking ones and make my way over.

It’s not just my looks that make me popular. It’s got to be my personality. It has to be that I always know just the right things to say. Cady looks so much like me (maybe even a tad prettier, in my opinion) but she doesn’t try like I do. That’s why, before the first bell even rings, I’m on a first name basis with six girls- Jamie, Carlie, Kendra, Becca, and Sasha- and Cady’s still standing around all by herself.

These girls I’ve met seem decent. Nice. I know the type of people that will accept new friends pretty easily. I can tell by the way they dress too that I’m not hooking up with the wrong crowd. They’re not like that weird little emo boy with his headphones. They seem like a good group, and besides, I can always work my way up.

The best part is that their little clique is standing closest to the jock and cheerleader group. I keep eyeing Mr. Football Captain. He looks cuter today than he did at the mall. When the bell rings and we shuffle inside, I accidentally brush against him through the door.

A letter I had gotten in the mail told me my homeroom classroom. I find my way there easy enough- 216- second floor, even side of the hallway. I just keep working my way down until I find it.

Football Captain’s in this homeroom too! He sits down in the back with all the cool kids. I find a seat in the middle of the classroom. My homeroom teacher has already written his name on the board: Mr. Rosso. Then he calls roll, and I find out that Football Captain’s name is Gavin O’Donnell.

Mr. Rosso goes through the usual boring first-day-of-school announcements. No cell phones, follow the dress code, don’t be late. Then he gets on the more interesting announcements. Like how anyone wanting to sign up to run for school president should go see Mrs. Phelps in the Main Office as soon as possible.

I go as soon as homeroom is over. This will be my best campaign yet. It’ll have to be.

September 6th

Gavin

I’m kind of glad that school’s started. It gives me another reason to spend more time away from home.

There’s gonna be a huge party this weekend at Stacey’s to kick off the start of school. Which, of course, is totally differentiated from last weekend’s party which mourned the end of summer. This is the last Friday I can really get drunk too before we start Saturday morning games.

I’ve got to get Stacey off my back, though. She’s trying harder than ever to see us get together. I feel bad, but it’s really not going anywhere. Maybe if I brought another girl to her party…

I saw a cute girl this morning in the hallway. She was by her locker and for some reason she was having a little too much trouble opening the lock. She had long blond hair and I kept feeling like I had seen her somewhere before but I couldn’t remember where.

Now it’s after school, and I see her again having the same lock problem. I go up to her and ask if I can help. Her face flushes and she steps aside, handing me a slip of paper with her combination scribbled on it.

Right, left, right, I demonstrate for her slowly. She nods. “Yeah, thanks… I don’t know what’s gotten into me today.”

I squint my eyes at her. “Are you… new here?” I ask finally.

“Yeah. Just moved on Saturday. I’m Cady.”

“Gavin,” I smile. “Just let me know if you have trouble with that lock again.”

“Sure,” she says. “Thanks…”

“See you around,” I say, and leave before the conversation can go stale.

Now I just have to figure out if I really have the guts to ask her to Stacey’s party.

Seth

The new neighbor girl is walking home behind me today. I pretend I didn’t notice her, but I do. I just don’t want to have to maintain a conversation.

She walks past me, stops, and turns around like she has just noticed something. She is acting so smooth I’m not sure whether she has planned the whole turn-around or not. We both just kind of stand there for a moment staring at each other. She looks like she wants to say something but whatever it is, she isn’t saying it. It’s quite painful really.

Finally I take pity on the poor girl and say what she has been trying to say. “You’re my new neighbor, right?”

She exhales slowly. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I saw you and your mom moving in that pink canopy bed thing.” I absolutely despise anyone who would sleep on something so goddamn pretty, as if they’re a princess or something.

“Oh, no, that must have been my sister you saw,” she shakes her head. “She kind of looks like me. But I would never sleep on a princess bed like that.”

Weird. I stop walking for a second. She stops too.

“What’s your name?” She asks me.

“Seth.”

“I’m Cadence.”

I swallow. “Like music,” I say. Once I say it, I wish I could take it back. I sound like a complete retard.

“Yeah. My father was a musician. He named my other sister Melody.”

“Do you smoke?” I ask her, to save some face.

“Cigarettes? Nah.”

“No, weed.”

“Um…” she shrugs. “Well, I never have before, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t.”

I start walking again and she follows. Neither of us say anything for awhile.

Then, “So, what band were you were listening to last night?” she asks.

“You can hear it?” I say. I feel so alone in my little room at night with my music that I forget sometimes that there are people nearby. And something in me doesn’t like the fact that she’s listening too.

“I live in the room right across from yours, so yeah.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it lower tonight.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” she says. But then we get to my house.

I kind of say goodbye. And she kind of does too. It seems like goodbyes don’t mean anything anymore.