Normally… This is me.

By C Jazz

The sun looked strained behind the blotches we so kindly call trees. It reminded me of myself, worried, and stressed. I always seem to be irritated with everything. Normally, I am not like this. Normally, I am a fun loving, fifteen-year-old, trying to slack his way through high school. Trust me, it doesn't work.

I don't know what my problem is, you know, with school. I guess that I just don't contain information very well. Yeah, that's it. I am a strainer, a sieve. But is it my fault? I mean, really, is it an internal problem or an external problem? I really have no clue. I'll have to remember to ask my therapist.

My parents move a lot. My dad is one of those overbuilt, hardcore, army guys. I usually switch schools about twice a school year. But this year, he promises that we will hang around for a while. Even if we do move again I will stay at the same school. It is one of those prissy boarding schools, the kind where you stay in dorms. My parents think that for some reason I will do better in school if I manage to stay in one place. That way, I will get all the information that I need to do well. They obviously think that I am smart. No way. But, I really don't mind. Maybe now I can be a real teenager, not the new kid that has no friends. Today I move into my dorm. This should be fun . . .

"Ohhhhh, Triston, look at that! Ivy! Oh, honey, I am so glad you are getting such a good education!" my mom, the overreacting, glitter-bug type of mother, squeals as we approach Highland Private High School. My mom is your normal housewife type "A": stays at home; bakes cookies; wishes her children turn out better than her. She's no where close to being an exciting Housewife "B": goes to work; comes home; complains about work; makes dinner; complains about how she has to make dinner; munches down on a half-gallon carton of ice cream after guilt-tripping her husband into doing the dishes. Now, that would be fun. She never got to go to collage. I also believe that she thinks an Ivy League school is a school with ivy on the walls.

"Yeah, Mom, cool!" I figure I might as well humor her. It's the only time she'll get to take her "snook-ums" off to high school. Our feet echo against the hard pavement. What will people think of me? Now that's a question I never thought I would be asking myself. I have always been quite popular, especially with the ladies. I suppose my dashingly handsome looks may help a bit. Standing a high 6 feet with a football build and natural blond hair to go with my strikingly blue eyes… Okay! Okay! So I'm 5 foot 10 with brown hair and hazel eyes. I've never played football in my life (well, not competitively). But, really, that won't matter, will it?

My mom googols all the way up to the door, pausing in awe as a handsome security guard opens the door for us. Man, this place is rich. It is obvious that everyone waited till he last minute to move in like us. It is the final day to move in. It's chaos. We stumble around, me with my trunk (the only way to travel) my mom with my guitar, and backpack.

"Hon, is this Floor C?" my mother called back to me. I was about ten feet behind her.

"I don't know. You see any signs?" I called back. This trunk may be stylish but it sure is a pain in the butt. I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see a gorgeous blond standing behind me.

"You lost?" she asked. She was surprisingly pretty. Almost perfect looking. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"Mom! Come here, I think I found a sign." I yelled up the hall. My mom looked back at me and saw whom I was talking to. She smiled with happiness, running back to meet the mysterious girl.

"Hi," the girl said, "I'm Marie Highland." (Highland…wasn't that the name of the school) "I'd be happy to help you find your dorm and possibly an elevator?" she said, eyeing my trunk.

"I'm Triston Welding, and this is my mom Mia Hartlist." I said. My mom always has me introduce her

using her maiden name.

"Nice to meet you, Marie." My mom said. "I just love your outfit. Where did you get that adorable skirt? And your eye shadow! It's perfect!"

"Thanks, Ms. Hartlist. So, where are you headed?" Marie asked, turning to me. Now wait a second. I wasn't about to look so helpless that I needed two girls to help me find my way. I knew where I was going.

"Actually, as much as I would love to talk with you longer, I think I know where I am going. Really! It's just down here!" I added as she looked at me in disbelief.

"Really?" she said, "Because I always thought this hall was an all girl hall. You know, no boys allowed!"

"Oh… well maybe they changed it." I retorted.

"I don't' think so… but, you never know. Daddy just might not have told me." She said. "I mean, after all, he would know. He's the Dean." She smiled at the astonished look on my face. "But, you know, it may have just slipped his mind. Considering I am just a silly girl." She grinned mischievously. What could I do?

"Floor C. Room 12." I said, obviously beaten. She took us to the nearest elevator, and brought us down two floors. We strolled down the hall, looking for room 12.

"You are lucky. The whole C floor has suites. There is a boy's room, three to a room in suites, and a girl's room. A living area for the students to do their homework connects them. There is the drawback of having an extra roommate, but it is worth the extra space." Marie explained. "The normal dorms don't have the living area in between two dorms. They have one for each floor. I just happen to be living in the same suite you are in and I'll tell you right now that this suite is completely full of long time friends. We have known each other for years. You are the first newcomer. One of the boys moved to New York last year and there was an opening. This just may be a little harder than normal." She finished. Great, just what I need, a harder time fitting in.

The crowd had pretty much disappeared as we entered the C floor. Now, I could think again. I started getting nervous. I was most definitely worried about moving into such a tightly knit group. This really was going to be hard. I guess I will just have to be myself. After all, that is what everyone tells you to do, right?

Three doors at the very end of the hall, before it turned a corner, I saw three doors. One said "12-GIRLS", obviously the girl's room. The middle door said "Suite C-12"; I assumed that was the living area door. Then there was "12-BOYS"… my room.

"Well, honey, I guess you won't want me to be with you when you meet your new friends… so I guess I will say bye here." She looked as though she was going to start to cry. She pulled me into a tight hug and sniffled. "Oh, honey, have a good year! I can't believe I am not going to see you everyday!" she whined.

"Mom, I will see you on Thanksgiving, maybe even earlier. Don't' worry, I'll be fine. It's just school." I said. She backed off a little.

"I'll miss you!" She said. "Your father will too. See you!" She was sobbing by now. Jeez, it's not that big of a deal.

"Love you mom!" I yelled after her. She disappeared down the hall. Now that she was gone, I kind of wished she had stayed. I was really nervous.

"You ready?" Marie asked. She relaxed a little.

"As ready as I'll ever be." I said. Marie knocked and, as though watching a movie in slow motion, I saw her open the door. A burst of laughter snapped me to attention.