Blurriness covered my eyes as I awoke to my annoying alarm clock. I looked at it and sighed in an irritated voice. It was another day; another day of pain, another day of bother, another day of loneliness, another, but yet new day and year of school. I was starting the ninth grade and I was disinclined to the idea of leaving the middle school I had grown fond of, compared to the huge high school that contained other students from schools within our district. This meant new kids, new teachers, and new problems to face. I really had no one to suffer through this with me because I had never grown close to any of the kids at my old school. I usually got along with everyone and had no problem with them, I just never fit in. Even though my parents urged me to go to plenty of games, I repeatedly said no. I knew they were worried, but I was not. I had no need to go, and I would never have any idea on whom to root for or sit by, and like any teen, nowhere near my parents.

I got up and went to my window, soon hearing my sister Stacey’s alarm going off and knowing she was in no worry to turn it off anytime soon. Outside was peaceful and quiet. I smelled the fresh dew once I opened my window a crack and heard the morning birds chirping. I smiled looking across the road seeing the cows mooing constantly to be fed and my dog, Banjo, at the edge of the driveway looking at them constantly as if he were afraid for them to run away into the beautiful, early sun. I soon again heard the alarm clock coming back from the background it had currently faded into, so I shut my window, and walked quietly to my sister’s room.

In there I saw her with one leg over a pillow, the other one hidden, and her arm hanging off her bed. I shut her alarm off and noticed she had not even flinched from the obnoxious noise it made to the complete silence. For a moment I thought of leaving her there and have her worry about getting to the bus in time for herself, but then I thought of her crying to mother and myself getting a lecture of a life time, again. With this in mind, I went to her and shook her crazily. She woke with a start and pretty much yelled at me, saying, “What the heck are you doing?” in annoyed tone.

“Wake up,” I told her, feeling no sorrow of ruining her ‘precious’ beauty sleep. I laughed to myself at the thought. She glowered at me and just sat there in her bed. I left to get to the shower first. This was important for we only had little heated water and if whomever got to it first, got to enjoy the wonderful pleasure of warmth. I walked quietly to my room, not to alarm her I was up to anything suspicious, and grabbed my new clothes we had bought for the school year and then I rushed to the bathroom. I knew it, I was there first and it was a good way to start the morning. I took about ten minutes until I knew I should save some for Stacey so I did not have to hear her complain a whole bunch.

Stacey was my little sister of eighth grade. She was the opposite of me. She was more into the ‘popular’ kind of things. Which meant she was popular in school and she seemed to be perfect, perfect with her straight black hair, and light green eyes which made her beautiful and well-known by the guys at school. She had probably had five boyfriends and currently was in a relationship with the jr. high football jock, Arc, who, I’m sure anyone can figure by the name, was no sharp-witted boy by any means. She also was awesome at sports and probably by her wonderful features, people expected her to become head cheerleader or something. But, of corse, like anyone else who was perfect, she ignored those ideas and instead, did more physical sports like volleyball, basketball, softball, swimming, and track, which all supported her sleek, normal skinny body. She was a role model compared to an ugly ogre like myself.

I was the more book girl and barely noticed at school. Unlike my sister, I had thick blonde hair and dark blue eyes. I had an abnormal skinny body and a disgraceful amount of weakness that came with it. I was delicate and I wished for everything to be like my tough sister. I had nothing to compare to my sister, except my acceptable good grades and the unusual love of watching football. I had never been in a relationship nor in love. I had never had that rush of excitement when I came near a person who stood out from the others around me as they explained in the many books I have read.

I also had an older brother, Adin, who was in the United States National Guard, but a few months ago, we were told he was killed in combat and that was a unbearable time for my family, and still is. He was my role model and he always told me I had great potential when I felt down on myself; I told him everything and he did the same. He told me before he left, he was going to propose to Rachel, his girlfriend for three years in high school, on the day of his departure. He did, and of course, she said, yes. I remembered her face as she stood by his tomb, looking down at his cold, hard face before he was buried into the old, family cemetery. She had cried for hours and hours before the ceremony, clinching to his dead hand. She told me that he had told her how he felt about me, which most of it I already knew, and how she felt about him. We both cried on the front steps of my porch and I knew that it was never going to be the same. I also remember when Rachel had first came over, and knowing that I was going to like her from what my brother told me about her. He was right, and she soon became a good friend, almost as close as my brother to me. I was so excited when they had planned to get married, but that went down the cold, rusty drain with the rest of my feelings and thoughts.

Anyway, once I had gotten out, I got dressed in our little bathroom, grabbed a brush, and headed out while seeing a blur passing me by and running in. I laughed and brushed my hair while heading to my room; it was about 6:30 at the time so I grabbed my stuff and went to the kitchen. I dropped all of it near the steps and walked casually to the fridge. Grabbing the milk, I saw a can of unopened pineapple. Just they way Adin did it, I thought. Before he would open his favorite fruit, he would first have it cooled for a while. It took me a moment to think why there was one there now and then I remembered that Stacey had emulated that gene. It was also a way to remember her only brother. I shook off the guilt I had for not being more like my brother as I wished I could have been.

I took the milk, grabbed the Honey Nut Cheerios, and mixed the two in a bowl. I finished that, put the dish into the sink, and looked at the time again. Only 6:45, I had about a half hour before I could even think about waiting for our bus so I went outside to the barn. I know I needed to feed Sugar and Hoppy, my rabbits. They were quite happy when they saw me walking toward them with their favorite treat of mixed crumpled lettuce and carrots with their morning grain. After I played and watched them eat, I headed to the horses. We had three, Holly, Lana, and Polk. They were Arabians and quite beautiful. Polk was a rusty red stallion with a white birthmark almost covering his whole ear. Lana was a pure white one mare and their new filly Holly, took her father’s resemblance without the white mark. They too, were quite happy to see me and the filly began to prance around their stall. I laughed aloud and the parents seemed to share the humor with me. I fed them and went back inside.

When I entered, I saw Stacey out and about eating out of the can of pineapple. She glared at me when I entered and I smiled my mischievous smile that would always drive her nuts. It was 7:00 and in about 15 minutes the yellow school bus would come by and pick us up, drop me off at the high school, then pick up some of the other middle school kids to take them to school across town. I, of course, had a swarm of fluttery butterflies twisting and turning inside my small stomach. My sister soon finished her delightful breakfast and joined in my worry fest.

“Your thinking,” she confronted me at the table where I was currently sitting near the window, “When you stare off into space, especially near a window, you like to think and usually over think.”

I smirked and looked at her, and like any other time, her eyes were shining with a curious tint, so I answered her truthfully, “I’m worried for starting high school.”

She shook her head as if she understood and asked, “How come?”

I smirked again and answered, “Everything. I don’t have any friends and I am not popular like a certain someone.”

At this, she turned a shade of red and stared at me softly like an older sister would do to comfort her younger one. I soon felt ashamed of myself for feeling the way I did. I was selfish, but I knew I had nothing to get me far in life as she did. “I’m not that popular am I? Isn’t popular confirmed with snottiness and rudeness? Am I that bad?” she asked in awareness.

I chuckled, “No, not snotty or rude, just perfect. The way you look, act, live and just,” I paused for a moment, “the way you are... Also you have Arc.”

“Oh,” she sighed noticing the disappointment in my features and voice, “I see.”

“Yeah,” I agreed and then looked out the window and saw the dust coming from the roads out ahead. Suddenly aware, I looked at the time and mumbled a cuss word under my breath then said, “Bus.” in a rushed voice. Stacey jumped, went to where she had put her stuff, ran out the door, and I followed her. We ran down our, too long driveway, and stopped where we were supposed to be picked up. My sister smiled to see we had a few minutes, turned to me, and said, “Carla, just wait, you’ll fined him soon. I promise.”

Before I could reply, a yellow bus with the number 7 on it stopped in front of us. We went around to the right side to the door and strode on. I saw many faces I recognized, then others around the same age who I had no clue. I picked an empty seat near a girl in red locks and a white bow in her hair. She seemed just as nervous as I and we were at first uncomfortable. My sister who had a seat with one of her many friends, caught my eye, and urge me with her eyes to say something. So I did, “Hello, my name is Carla.”

She stared at me for a minute and I notice her eyes were a light blue. She had a faint tint of freckles on her nose and she, like my sister, was fairly fit. She stuttered for a moment then said, “Hi, I’m Nancy. How are you?” she asked in an awkward tone.

“I’m good,” I answered in a casual voice then asked, “What grade are you in?”

“Starting the ninth, what about you?” She asked. I answered her that I was in the same grade and we questioned each other until we made it where we soon got off the bus. Once we did, I did not even look around the campus before me, and instead, we walked right into where they were giving out the new schedules to all the students. It took us a few minutes until I saw a huge, higher grade student was behind Nancy, looking down at the two of us. She soon noticed I was not listening and followed my gaze to the person. He was standing over us and was looking ahead. He was a bigger boy, probably a linebacker or something on the football team, with broad arms and they were very muscular. His face showed toughness, yet, surprisingly reminded me of a big teddy bear. He soon saw us and smiled a huge grin. His teeth were white, yet they were a bit crooked on the bottom. We turned around quickly and followed what we now were aware of, curvy line to the office that held our schedules. I soon had butterflies flutter in me again and a chill rolled down my spine.

I looked at Nancy and saw she, too, had a worry look on her face and now that I knew her, I hoped I had plenty of my classes with her. Since I had no other friends really, she seemed to be the closet thing I got.

After about five minutes of waiting impatiently, we were able to enter the office and grab our little maps and schedules and we lightly walked into the crowded halls. We were able to find a vacant corner near the bathrooms and opened our schedules together. We had eight periods of 45 minutes each, but sadly, Nancy and I had one period that was 5th hour English and Literature and then we shared the same lunch time. We were both bummed at the fact of having pretty much seven periods without each other.

Looking at the time, we bid farewell to our first hour class. I had Spanish which I hoped would be a breeze. I knew the main words like Buenos días, Cómo se llama usted, Que le vaya bien and a few more. My mother taught me the basics because when she was in Mexico for a story for her newspaper, she needed to learn most of the words, and me being her oldest daughter, I got to help. This was one of the reasons I took the class and I hoped it would be fun.

It was about 8:15 and in ten minutes class would start. I strolled through the halls trying to find room 113. I was a little lost at first, unsure of which numbers were where, but then I was relieved that when I did find it, it was near the P.E room, which was my next class. When I entered the room, it had a different atmosphere. It felt more cheerful and free compared to what I had been feeling that morning. I looked around and saw the walls were colored by many, many colors, mostly yellows, oranges, reds, and purples. It was very festive and cheerful. I looked around the classroom only recognizing about one-fourth of the kids. The others I did not know and I could see how almost all of them were as nervous as I. I found an empty seat in the back near a boy I did not know. He had spiky, blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and a fairly fit, skinny body. He looked at me with his dark, curios eyes and then stared away. It seemed he did not know what to say and was quite nervous, so I thought, why not make myself more embarrassed and talk. So I did.

“Hello,” I stuttered as he looked at me, “My name is Carla.”

He had a light complexion which brought out his dark brown eyes which made myself, surprisingly thrilled. He looked me over then answered with a bright smile, “Hi, my name is Kevin. What school are you originally from?”

“West Rockets Middle School. What about you?” I answered while holding my jitteriness back.

He seemed to lighten up and be more relaxed and answered, “Northwest MainTown School. I actually should have been with the Rockets but my dad went to school there instead. ”

“Really?,” I asked, “That’s where my mother is from. What class was he in?”

“Class of ’90.” He answered with a questioned glisten in his eyes.

“Wow, my mom was class of ’91,” I said thinking we had something almost ‘cool’ in common.

“Weird, so...” He said trying to sound casual, “What was your middle school like? Friends, boyfriends, sports?”

“Umm, well, I haven’t had a boyfriend yet,” dang, don’t I sound pathetic, “No good friends really, and I don’t do much sports. I’m kind of a loner.”

“Same here, I never dated a girl, or guy, and don’t plan on dating the last one, I have one best friend, Cooger, a jockey, and the sports I play are baseball, basketball, and football. Oh, and I will be doing track”

“I love football!” I exclaimed a little bit too loud. He started to laugh, which, by the way, could bring any girl to her knees. Sadly, before he could answer, the bell rang and the teacher, which I did not realized before was sitting at her desk, stood up in inched black heels and her skirt flowed lightly with her. Her stride was elegant, yet formal and her face was high cheeked and her hair was a blazing, bright red hair that bounced up and down everywhere.

“Hello Class, my name is Ms. Helm, and as you can see, I am teaching Spanish.” The class went on like this and most of the guys were gawking at her appearance, which I thought was incredibly hilarious. With that, the class soon ended and the day continued. I had Kevin in most of my classes except my 2nd and 4th hour classes. I was quite excited to know that we continued to talk and with each other and I even got to meet his friend, Cooger, and his girl, Shyanne, who seemed to be very nice and fun. Starting high school did not seem so bad, or as I thought at this time.