I had a good couple of days to settle into my new home but after finally accepting the change of scenery, I had to master the art of adjusting into  a new school.

And Bellevue high did not make that easy.

My dad was my source of transportation for literally anything. Everytime I wanted to get from point A to point B, I had to ask my dad. Even when I asked my mom, she would always point me in his direction.

Unless my father and I were not on speaking terms.

Other than that, having to go everywhere with Charlie was a nightmare. If I needed a ride and he wasn't in the mood for driving then he would complain the entire time and I would never hear the goddam end of it.

I was still a few minutes early, so I waited for him in the car while he ate.
Like I had mentioned before I was not ready for my first day at Bellevue High. My anxiety was through the roof.

Although, my way of getting nervous is very unusual compared to others.
Some people get shaky or some may get sweaty and start to stutter, but me?

I generally get aggressive. Even up 'til now. 

I used to stutter a little and get a bit shaky but I would hide it by yelling or taking my anger out on the next person. No matter how unusual my behaviour  was, getting nervous for anything and everything was a common thing for me.
It probably still  is.

The constant feeling of food sitting  on my chest and the headaches I got from the endless thoughts and questioning of where, who , why and my favourite question of all; ' what if'.

While my dad drove, I looked out the window of the passenger seat, trying my best to avoid conversation because those never worked out between us. I wasn't so keen about our move  but I'll admit that I loved the views. 

He turned on the radio to terminate the silence. I regret not talking to him because the news on the radio mentioned something about a twelve year old girl who was kidnapped.

My parent's did keep me protected and took all the necessary measures to ensure my safety, but it was still disturbing. I can't blame my parents for my lack of liberation because growing up in a twisted time also made me paranoid to live the life I wanted.
I partially blame our damned society.

"Eleventh grade, huh?" my dad asked.

"Yeah. One of the hardest high school years, at least that's what I've been told," I responded nonchalantly. 

It was actually going good. The first half of the year wasn't as bad as most students made it out to be.  
Oh wait... I didn't have a life and therefore  I didn't have anything holding me back. Just sitting around in my room with my nose in a book.

"I know , but not for you, you just need to keep doing what you're doing and you'll be fine," he said while maintaining focus on the road.

"Yes, just do the same thing I do every damn year. Please you and mom," I said quite rudely.

"Watch your tone and attitude Kourtney."

I was very unapologetic about my attitude. To make it clear that I didn't want to engage in a conversation, I  looked out the window allowing the breeze to cool me off.
Why should  I have been apologetic anyways? I was the one who was being held captive. I was basically living a life that didn't belong to me.

At least that's what I thought.
"You know these are the best years of your life, you should be enjoying them," he reminded me.
'To hell with that philosophy.' Was what I thought.

"Besides; you are sixteen, what could you possibly want to do at your age?"

With that being said, he touched a nerve and pushed the wrong button. You know? That button that releases the monster.

I asked for liberty but instead they gave me books and told me to smile. Enjoy what exactly? Being tied to  a ball and chain?
Not that I was actually tied to a ball and chain.

The  best? Dammit, bears probably have more fun during hunting season. Surely they do because it can go one of two ways ; they either take the dart or they kill their stalker, like I did:

"What! Did you really just say that!" I yelled. "Enjoy what exactly? That I do nothing but sit in my room and study? That I have to turn down my friends' invites to basically any occasion because you are so obnoxious and paranoid? Never mind the fact that I can never catch a damn break, I'm sitting up at night working my...ahh!"

I stopped myself before things could get ugly. My father let out a sigh he had been holding back while I almost lost my mind.

"Look we are just doing our job as parents and you might not understand all of it now but I can guarantee you that someday you will thank us," he said exasperated.

I didn't say anything. I blatantly ignored him and continued to look out the window. I spent the last few minutes of the drive trying to channel my anger. That's the thing, he saw it as a job.

As far as I know parents  should share a relationship with their child and not responsibilities. I often saw our ' relationship' as a negotiation  more than anything else; I gave them straight 'A's  and they either got me books or canvases to paint on.

As we entered the school's gate my nervous levels started to drastically increase. My dad parked the car and we both walked to the school's office.

I've didn't go  to the school's orientation day, but my parents have, so I was seeing the school for the first time. I felt a little embarrassed to walk into a highschool with my dad  so I decided to maintain a distance and keep a few feet behind him. There are some students who are making their way to class and I try my best to avoid eye contact by keeping my head down. 

It was an unforgettable feeling.
Even though my eyes were glued to my feet I was one hundred percent positive that there were numerous eyes on me.

I could feel every stare. 
I managed to get into Bellevue high  ease due to two things: my grades from my previous school and because my dad was a good friend of the principal.   

Since my dad has been to the school for the open day, he very easily found the school's office. 

As we entered the office we stopped at the waiting room just outside the front office window. A lady, whom I assumed was the secretary,  stood on the other side of the window behind her desk.

"Good morning sir how may I assist you?"  She asked my dad with a polite smile.

  I picked up that she was not originally from the states due to her British accent.

"Morning Miss. I'm Mr Kidman, my daughter is in eleventh  grade and it's her first time attending Bellevue," he explained. 

"Ah yes, Kourtney Kidman." She opened up a drawer in a cabinet behind her and  browsed through it. She pulled out a folder with my name on it, written in black marker.

"This has your lesson timetable in it, along with the school code of conduct, an after school activities booklet, a school journal for keeping track of project due dates and a few other things to help you get through the school year," she explained 

She seemed to be very friendly unlike the stuck-up secretary at my previous school. The secretary rambled on and on about the 'wonderful facilities and programs' that the school had to offer while I tuned her out. I had no intention of doing anything after school because I was so tired of always being pressured into taking part in school activities.

"I'll buzz for the vice principal to show you to your home room," she  said after her long tedious explanation. I felt little overwhelmed because my old school was never as organised as Bellevue

"Miss Jackson, a new student is down at the front office."

I stood there with a blank expression on my face thinking about what my dad and I were talking about in the car. 
I didn't mean to come off as rude or disrespectful but when you push the wrong button you get the worst results, and sometimes people end up with huge regrets after seeing the result of pushing that button. That's something that still happens up until today.

'Mr' already knows that.
My temper is almost as short as I am. Well at least that's what 'Mr' says.

"Kourtney, the vice principal will be down in a few minutes."
The secretary  sat at her desk filling out paperwork.

My dad switched looks  between me and and his watch. I was relived when I noticed that because it meant that he was ready to leave me.  School was slightly  beneficial to me given the fact that I got time away from my folks which meant that got more time to actually miss them.
Maybe not a lot but at least I thought of them.

If I had  spent a whole seven days with my parents, I would've lose my sanity.

"Okay Kourt, I'm going to have to leave now but I'm sure you'll be fine from here," he said before kissing my cheek and wishing me  luck for my first day. 

"You must be Kourtney," chimed a voice from behind me along with the light taps of high heels hitting the ground. 

Behind me stood a young woman with pitch black hair, dressed in formal attire. 
"Let me show you to your home room," she said.

I followed her out the room  without asking any questions or wasting anymore time.
As I stepped out of the office, I finally got to observe the beauty of  the school.

My stubborn self didn't want to admit that I was pleased with the school because I still couldn't get over   fact that my parents made us move.

The presentation of the school was completely different to the kids that attended the high school.

Miss Jackson appeared to have a walk of confidence and from that day I learnt true essence of  wearing high heels. 
It's the same kind of confidence Deniece wore.

We drew near to a very rowdy class and I assumes it was my new home room. As Miss Jackson stepped foot into the class they all settled down.

I bit my lip as I silently prayed that she didn't make me do the thing that every 'new kid' is expected to do:
An introduction.

"Good morning to all," she smiled.
"Good morning Miss Jackson," the class greeted in unison.

"You have a new student, may I ask that you kindly help her around so that she does not get lost or step out of line etcetera. You should all know the drill," she said sternly.

I looked over to the teacher at the desk who seemed to have an expression of intimidation on her face but I assumed it's because she had no control over her own home room.

"Kourtney this is the class that you will come to in the morning so your teacher can mark your present on the register before you start your lessons and at the end of the day," explained Miss Jackson.

"O-ok. Thank you," I merely stuttered while trying to gather all of what had happened in the last five minutes. The vice principal left the class and everyone sat in silence while staring  me down.