The new kid

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I waited for the bus and an icy chill went up my spine. The chill was not from the weather, as it was 70 degrees F outside, but because I was scared. Scared from going on the bus with people much older than me.

A giant mass of yellow screeched to a stop in front of me and I hesitated as I thought about getting on. As if an unseen force was pulling me my feet moved automatically towards the bus stairs. A first step was taken and I grabbed onto the side rail. The second step I was pushed up to by another kid who got on the bus with me. A third step (the hardest of all) and now I was face to face with every other kid on the bus. Some just talked to their friends, but others were alone and whenever they saw someone new get on they’d shove their backpack in the empty spot beside them. Seeing I’d get nowhere else to sit I dove in the seat behind the bus driver. While I sat in the seat next to my friend Troy I talked to him about summer, partly because I hadn’t seen him for a while, partly to keep me from jumping out the window.

For the rest of the ride I stared out the front window and kept my face blank so no one would notice I was terrified of getting to school.

When we finally did get to school I rushed off the bus so I wouldn’t be flattened by the rush of kids getting off the bus. Half stumbling, half walking I made a feeble attempt to get off the bus. After finding out I was on the Wildcats and in Mrs. Danyla’s homeroom, I set in search for my friends who were arranged in a circle as were all the other kids. We talked about our summer and what we did and, for some reason, a new surge of confidence flowed through me. I set in search of room 231 so I could start my day.

Once period one bell rang I headed to a lady called Mrs. Nadeau for English. Mrs. Nadeau was a colorful person the way she would always think of something funny to say or do and I noticed that (was it possible?) I was having fun! I was excited for period two because I was having foreign language and I had never taken Spanish or any other foreign language for that matter. The teacher talked about herself and what we were going to learn that year. The periods had been shortened because it was the first day and in just a few minutes (or so it seemed) the class ended and we had to go to SSR.

As I rushed back to my homeroom for SSR (sustained silent reading) I heard various conversations about people’s likes and dislikes about school, whether it was about the teachers or merely the subject. Ahh’ Finally! SSR a time to relax, or so I thought. During SSR we joined up with another advisor group or “homeroom” and took a stroll around the football field. I talked and met up with more of my friends. Middle school didn’t feel like a battle ground anymore. It felt casual and safe. Re-entering the school an announcement said we could go to our homeroom. Everyone scrambled back to their advisors room and waited for their bus to be called.

The room was alive with the chatter as the other kids talked about their new friends and teachers. After getting my backpack from my locker I sat down at a desk and joined the ever flowing river of voices. “Greene and Leeds buses as well as Turner 127 are loading, Greene, Leeds and Turner,” a voice boomed from the intercom, silencing the rest of us. I stood up from my seat and headed for the door. Then the door to the hallway. Then the hallway to the buses. In front of the steps I hesitated, remembering this morning. Then when I thought about the day I just had it pushed all bad thoughts to the back of my mind and I strode up the bus steps with pride, and every bit of confidence.

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