Okay, I’m in.

     I wore black because it’s cool. I mean, it’s neutral. No one can laugh at someone in black. Can they? No, obviously not. This guy is wearing a purple shirt. Purple is the gay color. He’ll get laughed at before me. I should be safe. For now. These fucking pants are way too tight. Leave it up to my mom to shop at Kohls. It looks retarded. Skin-tight pants with a huge sleeping bag black polo shirt draped over it. Everyone’s looking at it. They’re probably thinking, “Check out the fag with the tight pants.” Those two in the corner are definitely talking about it. They’ve been laughing the whole time and they’ve glanced at me twice. But it wasn’t just one of those casual glances. It was a glance with a purpose. A purpose to laugh. At me. There, they did it again! Fuck. I’m out of here. I couldn’t get my lock open, anyway. I think these things are designed to make you look like an ass in front of your peers. Teachers are always promoting “anti-bully” shit, but they really encourage it. It’s like the only form of entertainment they have…because they clearly have no lives outside of school. But maybe the teachers here are different. They seemed cooler. I guess. I hope this won’t be like the la—-(bell rings). OH! Alright. What do I have first? Living Environment? Okay. The room is 215. It starts with a 2, so I guess it’s on the second floor? Do we have a second floor? I suppose I’ll just follow the freshmen…or the guys who look like freshmen to see where they lead me. I can tell the freshmen apart from the sophomores and upperclassmen because we have different uniforms. Thank God for that, although it’ll be easier to spot us on Freshman Friday. Is that really a thing? Jorge tells me it is, but then again, Jorge loves to fuck with me. I wonder where he is today. I could really use his help right about now. I guess this is the classroom. It says 215; so, unless there’s another 215 I guess I’m here. Unless this is another secret trick the faculty is playing on us. Is this the teacher? She’s cute. MILF status, for sure. I guess I’d better grab the desk in the back. People will see me sitting at the desk in the back and assume that I’m cool, or something? Anything’s better than the front. That’s just setting yourself up for ridicule. Okay, I’m in my seat, and my legs are crossed. NO. WHY WOULD I DO THAT? That’s so gay. Okay, my legs are apart and even though mom says it’s bad for my posture I’m slumping my back a little so it looks like I’m nonchalant. Jorge says that the kids who don’t care are the kids who everyone cares about the most. That’s fucking stupid. But I mean, whatever works, right? Okay, now she’s handing out the syllabus. I should probably read it but if I do it’ll look like I really care about this class. And I do, but they can’t see that. I’ll read it when I get home. If I don’t care, people will care about me. The chunky kid next to me is drawing penises on his desk with a crayon. An orange crayon. Who brings a crayon to their first day of school? He noticed me staring at him and he laughed. I don’t think it’s funny, but I laugh anyway because he’s clearly looking for some sort of approval. And maybe if I give him mine, he’ll give me his. The teacher just dropped her syllabus and some kids chuckled. I laughed along, too, looking around the room, hoping to laugh with someone. Mission not accomplished.
(bell rings; end of the school day)
     Okay, so I figured out the lock situation. You have to turn it like seven times in each direction or something. I don’t know. Jorge did it. He found me, somehow, at the end of the day. We were gonna bus home together, but he’s grabbing pizza with some of his friends. He invited me, but why would I want to go someplace where I wasn’t invited by everyone else? It’s whatever. His friends didn’t even look that cool. Then again, neither am I. Whatever. Is this where the bus stop is? B1. Yup, that’s the one, and I’m pretty sure it’s headed in the right direction because the one across the street dropped me off this morning. I got this. I think. Hey, this guy was in my homeroom. He just high-fived me as he passed by. Okay! That’s something! I mean, people who hate you or people who intend to bully you wouldn’t high-five you, right? That’s not how it worked last year. And I doubt it could change over the course of a year. Okay. A high-five. Awesome.

     I’m safe. For now.

          -Alex Hajjar