"Society is life and order is key. Without either one we fall together into ruin and chaos. Long live Caiman!" The class turns away from our brightly decorated flag to begin another work day with our teacher, Mr. Wetzit. By far Mr. Wetzit is one of the better teachers in Caiman, and has the credentials to back him up. That is saying something considering everyone who lives within Caiman's island is a genius. As we are born we are assigned a teacher to be our life long mentor, almost like a third parent to some. Everyone believes that Mr. Wetzit genuinely cared about us to give us the whole have-to-make-geniuses-out-of-you-all speech in just one day. Today once we sat down we began noticing that Mr. Wetzit seemed in a somber mood like he was teaching us quantum physics or advanced calculus. He stood at his podium taking a deep breath before beginning with one of the most anticipated announcements since year seven when we were declared one of the best classes in Caiman's educational history.

"Children," he sadly begins. "I've been withholding this announcement for a while now but now it's time. The Caiman Education Board has unanimously declared your class is ready to graduate." The twenty kids around me went from deathly silent to shock and amazement. One student, Rodman, was so excited he began drawing chemical elements into the shape of a smiley face on the board, that is until Mr. Wetzit slapped his ruler across his podium. As he clears his throat the others quiet down some muttering apologies others looking down at their desks.

"In one week you will be inducted as our newest Caiman citizens, and as per the Education Board's requests I have to go over all the procedures and rules for how graduation will work. Dr. Thera from the Education Board along with other officials will bestow your lifetime jobs along with your personal education device." A black band sits snug on his wrist and as he raised his arm it activates asking us what we had or wanted to know. He tapped a button on the side to turn it off and looks at it with a smile. "Think about these like having me handcuffed to you everyday and the other High Scholars of Caiman as well. The last bit I'll bore you with is that this is considered a formal event so wear something nice." He eyes Sam who always comes with sweatpants and shirts that are wrinkled or have holes in them. We laughed and reached for our lesson books ready to begin our day. On the inside I was trying to figure out my job for life and when it was time to leave I practically bounded down the street preparing myself for how to tell my parents the fantastic news.

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My parents are literally two of the neatest people you will ever meet. At home finding a mess is like finding a spot on a clean platter. The walls are lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves and contain a great book for just about anything from cooking to construction and chemistry we have it all. One section of the bookshelf is dedicated to my dad's blueprints, he keeps them because it lets himself know-where-he-has-been and wants-to-remember-every-moment kind of person. He works as an architect while my mom works as a chemist developing new medicines for specialists and improving existing materials for the army or construction workers. When both of my busy parents look forward to a double shift or working overtime I enjoy having the house to myself, the only place where I can really be myself and no one else will know. I was very excited when I found the I-will-be-staying-at-work-late note in the kitchen that I dash upstairs.

My bedroom is like the rest of our house all spic and span with nothing out of the ordinary, unless you know where to look. When I reached my doorway I love under my bed reaching for the leather case and music book. Part of our class was to go outside the classroom and find a job we think best suited us and give some information on that job to the class. I found a man who restored older musical instruments, a luthier if you care, but also worked part time as a carpenter. While I was his apprentice he was working with this beautiful old guitar and gave it to me as a gift. It was this humble man who changed my world with one gift and I thank him every time I play because of it, but people who live in Caiman do not value creativity. In fact they despise any sort of creative outlets and destroy any opposing views or groups. Majority of Caiman is controlled by the logical and intelligent people who are more innovative than others. There is only but a rumor that if you perform well enough the Caiman leader himself chooses you to become his Royal Entertainer, but no one has been accepted for that role in years. Makes me wonder sometimes if I should keep going or back out while I can and get a typical career like my parents.

Our Caiman Education Board does their best to place people where they will have the most chance for success, however once they make their decision it becomes permanent. No take backs, no do-overs. In fact they tell the children of a man who refused his assigned job and they threw him out into the water. The story was meant to scare us into making the best of the schooling we received and work towards where we want to be placed. By choosing music I chose to harbor a risky secret that could lead to consequences not only for myself but also for my family. If they only wanted me I could deal with but if they went for my family, it just feels like a line that should not be crossed. At the moment I assume that the Education Board has no idea that I prefer a more creative outlet than what they can offer me.

With my guitar perfectly tuned and my songbook open to a fresh page I let my mind wander and let my fingertips tell a story. As they strung across the strings they connect to chords and measures that seem to float in the air before getting to your ears. There are moments when inspiration can come from just about anything, and when I listen to my notes they remind me of my childhood. Running through the park with my friends and riding piggyback on my dad overlooking the beach, so I make a note of it in my songbook before continuing to play. Its similar to the reasons why my parents take the overtime or the long double shifts, because when they are really working hard and have that idea in mind they keep going until they get to whatever they are after. Hours can be passing by like the wind but when I create music it's just me and my guitar strumming mellifluous notes, except for when my stomach gets in the way. When the stomach starts growling you know you have to stop otherwise you lose track of what the song is, so I carefully start packing the guitar and my songbook and replace them under my bed for my next jam session.

Getting downstairs I go to our only phone with the note for my favorite pizza place, Peter's Pizza Palace. I call in for a smoky bacon and barbeque pizza with bread sticks and a two liter of pop, then the wait begins. Trying to kill some time I grab some of my homework and sit on the plush couch. About two hours later, and almost all of my complex equation homework later, the doorbell rings and I grab the money I left on the counter. When I open the door my favorite delivery guy, Rich Trey, is there with my whole order and one of his best smiles.

"Hey Rich! Everything I asked for is here?"

"Yep! Maybe with a little more pizzazz to liven up your night." He always does something to my food, it's his own personal touch.

We traded our part and as he was beginning to turn around he gave me a feathery kiss on my hand and another scheming smile. With my food in hand I check them to make sure nothing seems too out of the ordinary before opening the pizza. Inside the steam wafts out there was a design with the bacon. A heart with an arrow through it, I knew he would make my day yet again. I wanted to tell him his design was cute and I grappled with the door in a hurry to see if he was still sitting in his blue Acura. He had just begun pulling away when I yelled after him. "You're so sweet Rich! You're too good for me!"

What happened after could only be summed up as a one person party where I was the wall flower, the hungry guest, and the one who picked the nights entertainment. I landed on the couch after choosing If I Stay as the movie and began to chow down. When I watched her playing at Carnagie Hall I just about fangirled over how stunning her performance was. It was one of the best nights of my life but ended when my food coma started kicking in. The next morning I was in bed with no recollection of how I got there and the rest of my food from last night was eaten. Not to even forget my massive headache and craving for food, simply put I am going to school as a mess. 

At this point I just want to have a casual day and have this blow over by graduation. I just hope Mr. Wetzit does not start interrogating me on why I look like a mess and why I keep a bag of chips in my desk. Walking out the door I felt so sluggish that by the time I reached the school I wanted to curl up on the bench outside and sleep, yet I refrained and entered Caiman High.