This idea comes from a cross between Ned's Declassified School Survival Guide and breana's 357 Thing I Am Not Allowed To Do. But mostly 357 Things much more than Ned's Declassified. Although in the end, those were just some influences. For the most part, the idea came from something totally different and entirely unrelated.

Chin up, look ahead, don't ogle.

I bore that in mind as I walked down the halls of the infamous high school.

High school. No more wimpy middle schooling. This was high school.

I spotted a classmate of mine out of the corner of my eye. He was ogling at the huge hallway, the fully developed seniors and juniors...so obviously a freshman. Some upper classmen smirked at him, their lips forming the words "freshman".

I pulled out a random notebook from my bag, pushing my way through a door that claimed to lead to my first hour class. I took out a pen and scribbled down the note.

1. Never let on that you are a freshman. Act like you know what you're doing, even if you don't.

I tapped my chin thoughtfully, pulling out a random chair next to someone I didn't recognize. Perhaps I should share this knowledge with my fellow newbies...

I commenced to doodle on the notebook page.

An alarming BEEEP made me jump. The person next to me smirked, then looked to the front of the classroom, three rows ahead. Damn, I'd let on that I was a freshman. So much for that.

"Class!" the teacher - I glanced at my schedule, carefully set up on the inside of my bag so I could see it - Mr. Turkey said. I smiled, always getting a kick out of that name, no matter how many times I read it.

The class quieted down.

"Welcome to the first day of school," he said. "I am your World History teacher, Mr. Turkey."

Some kid in the first row I remembered being named Travis snickered. I thought I heard him mumble 'turkey', and chuckled again.

Mr. Turkey glared at Travis. Menacingly, he began to step forward, snapping the pointer closed. Travis leaned back in his chair, a little surprised.

Mr. Turkey walked up, leaned over the desk and looked closely into Travis' face. It was the freakiest thing I'd ever seen a teacher do.

I scribbled something down in my notebook while he muttered something to Travis.

2. Don't be surprised by anything, no matter how freaky.

"Did anyone else hear that?" Mr. Turkey called. The class stared at him. The students around him nodded. "I don't want anyone making fun of my name - one offense, and I let you off with a warning. Two offenses, a lunch detention. Three offenses is an after school detention. Four offenses and I call your parents, plus you have two after school detentions. Is that clear?" The last three words were annunciated clearly and loudly, ringing around the eerily silent room. No one spoke. No one dared break the weird silence.

"I said 'is that clear?" he demanded.

The class responded with a chorus of mumbled yeses.

"Good. Now, Mr..." The teacher glanced at his attendance book.

"Travis, sir," Travis said quietly.

"Mr. Banks," the teacher continued, ignoring Travis. "You are getting off today with a warning. It is not to happen again. Understood?"

Travis hurriedly nodded.

"Good. Now, back to what I was saying, my job this morning is to go over the rules with you..."

I scribbled down a second note.

3. Don't make fun of teachers. Especially sons of bitches like Mr. Turkey.

His voice faded away. I listened at first, then commenced to finish my doodle of a duck on the notebook.

The class dragged as he went over the rules. There were less rules here than the middle school, but they were much stricter. I had a feeling we were in for a very interesting ride.

…………

The second class was nice. That was math with Ms. Gingers. She was nice, plus I got to sit next to my friend Diana. There weren't any upper classmen in this class like in history. I felt buoyant when I walked out of math, pleased that all the teachers wouldn't be like Mr. Turkey.

Third hour was Gym. In middle school, they were always kind enough to put gym in the afternoon. They also cared a lot less about changing.

Not here. God, all those rules about changing clothes! Shorts not too short, shirts not too low, no Velcro or slip on sneakers, only sneakers, girls wear their hair up! I'd never be able to keep up with those standards!

Next hour was my elective, woodshop. Mr. R (he didn't make us pronounce his whole Italian name) seemed to love wood. Which was a little weird, to say the least, but at least it promised a fun class.

Next, thank god, was lunch.

I wandered into the cafeteria, choosing an empty table, pulling out my bagged lunch. I sat idly by, quietly eating my ham sandwich, wondering if any of my friends would find me here. Oh well. We'd work out where to sit eventually.

To pass the time, I watched other friends hug, greet, gossip about the long summer, and catch up on everything. I observed the students. Other freshmen from both my old middle school and the middle school across town wandered about in dazed confusion. Some older siblings helped the new students.

About ten minutes into lunch, an older group of kids were suddenly standing around me. I looked backwards up at them.

"Can I help you?" I asked through a mouthful of mayonnaise and ham. I choked on the food - not a good idea to try to swallow while looking up and talking.

"You're sitting in our seat," one of them said.

"Am I? Geez, I thought assigned seats were gone in middle school. Ah well, I suppose some things just don't change-"

"Shut up, I meant that this is our spot – it's been our spot since last year, the year before that and the year before that."

I ran through the math in my head real quick. Crap. Seniors.

"It's the first day of school. I think you can survive sitting somewhere else for just one lunch period," I said.

One sat down in the seat next to me, glaring closely at my face. "Or you could just move. Then we'd all be happier, and no one would get in any trouble."

I raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of iced tea. "Who's getting in trouble?"

The blond senior leaned in closer, her long-lashed greenish eyes burning into me. "Both of us."

I blinked. I had no clue what that meant, and was about to ask when someone shouted, "Mel!! Melanie Grizco!"

I looked over and saw my friend Natasha. "Hi Nat!" I called back. She grinned and walked over. I patted the seat next to me.

One senior put a hand to my shoulder. "Move or we make you move."

I sighed, a bit miffed. "Look, there's plenty of room over on that side of the table-"

"Another group sits there."

"Well then, me and Nat can move over a few spaces-"

"Our other friends sit there."

I glared. "Fine!" I snapped, gathering my lunch. Nat looked confusedly around. "Come on Nat. We're moving to this end of the table." I grabbed her hand and moved five spaces to the end of the table. Still in their way, but without causing a scene. That was perfect.

The seniors sat down and shot glares at us all the rest of lunch. I didn't show any signs of being intimidated, simply because I felt none. They didn't scare me. although I could definitely see that Nat was a little intimidated herself.

Two more friends joined me and Nat - Blake and Gwen. Our other friend, Monica, clearly had gotten lost somewhere else in the cafeteria. Poor Monica.

The bell rang and I jumped up, my books spilling out of my bag all over the floor. "Dammit! We're late!" I exclaimed, furiously picking up the fallen books. The seniors chuckled at my alarm and massive spillage, walking out.

"Relax," Nat said, pulling on my shirtsleeve. "It's the warning bell. You're not late."

I breathed a sigh of relief, bending over and picking up the mess. I saw my notebook with the three little rules in it...

I opened it up and pulled out a pen.

4. Don't antagonize upper classmen. Don't back down to them like little sheep either.

…………

Next was science with Monica. I told her the senior seat story, and she grimaced, annoyed that she missed it. "It's okay. We'll be dealing with them tomorrow, anyway."

She laughed.

Hour seven was Spanish. I left that class already having a distinct dislike for that teacher, and the bunch of morons that were thrown into the room with me.

Eighth hour was English. I walked into that classroom and immediately stopped dead.

Mr. Henderson was hot.

Ugh, I feel like such a girl.

But seriously. He was hot.

He was also the only teacher I paid utter attention to. I noticed that he was also the only teacher a lot of the other girls listened to, too. He was sooo dreamy, and sooo gorgeous, and he made everything sound sooo important...

Which it really couldn't be - English class, come on.

Last was art class. That breezed by, but I was unfortunate enough to have it with the blond, green-eyed senior at lunch. With my amazing luck, she ended up having the last name Greenwich and sat one seat in front of me. She kept purposefully leaning back and splaying her hair all over my desk, her disgusting shampoo filling my nose. The nasty fruity scent was driving me insane. I had a feeling I wasn't going to be able to concentrate with that smell there - hence failing the class.

Ugh. It looked like high school was going to be a crapload of fun.

\\\\\\\\\\\\

1. Never let on that you are a freshman. Act like you know what you're doing, even if you don't.

2. Don't be surprised by anything, no matter how freaky.

3. Don't make fun of teachers. Especially sons of bitches like Mr. Turkey.

4. Don't antagonize upper classmen. Don't back down to them like little sheep either.