What is this? This feeling in my tummy, this sudden whooshing in my ears and the audible thumping in my ribcage.

Nervousness, some would say.

Excitement for others.

I would say a mix of both. 

Not only do I have a bus to catch at the most disgusting hour of the morning, but I have to find my classes in a boxed maze.

I should plan for a panic attack.

Thankfully, I barely slept, my whole body buzzing like bee seeing flowers. I constantly rolled over and checked the time, then stared and let my imagination wild.

What will happen this year?

Will I get the grades I want?

What if it's too hard?

The questions rang through my brain nonstop - like a wave retreating back to sea, quieting, only to come back louder the next time. Ten minutes before my alarm - I never thought I'd use that word - I could handle it no longer.

That's where I am now. The only person in my house awake. Relishing the silence of the morning.

I roll out of bed, make it, and open my curtains to a rising sun. It's a daily ritual to stare out my window every morning. A lonely reminder of another day I would be cooped up in my bedroom.

But now I wouldn't be. I get to step outside and actually feel the sun on my cheeks, take in the trees, and inhale the late summer air, rather than watch it all through a sheet of glass.

I step away from the window, earlier than I usually do.

×××

I sprint down the stairs, heart racing as I see Layla at the front door, scrambling to pack her bag. 

It was a chaotic morning. Firstly, I tried to do my makeup, but Layla had to do it for me, as my attempt made her audibly gasp in horror.

I put on jewellery, including a pair of earrings that I got for Christmas in 8th grade. I fixed my mess of curls as well, scrunching and oiling the lion's mane.

Now I'm struggling to pack my bag.

"C'mon Oaklee! The bus is gonna be here in a few minutes!" Layla calls.

"I know!" I shout back, now putting on a pair of small black boots. My 14th birthday present. 

Eventually we're out the door, hustling down the street. 

I exhale heavily, the muggy morning making it feel like I was breathing smoke. "I didn't realize it was this humid out," I say to Layla. Even in a thin button down t-shirt and jean shorts, sweat relentlessly builds on my body anyway.

"Maine just be like that sometimes." Layla replies. She's in a floral tank top, with a matching white skirt and shoes. "Unpredictable."

"Fair," I nod. I look ahead for a split second.

The bus is there. Kids are walking on.

"Shit!" Layla exclaimed.

The speed of our walking increases, until we start to run. I run behind Layla, my boots painfully digging into my ankles. 

We run as fast as we can, our inhales and exhales useless from the humid air. I suddenly flinch when I felt my skin slice in my boots. I ignored it and kept going.

We made it, but as the last one's to get on our buses. Layla goes to the turn of the street corner, me the closest to the end of the road.

I step on my bus out of breath and reach the aisle, several pairs of eyes piercing through my soul. I walk down the aisle, gaze searching for a seat. The eyes stay on me, dark and menacing.

Now I truly don't understand how celebrities are so calm, with cameras and eyes on them 24/7.

I feel like an intruder as I approach the back of the bus. Like I entered their territory. 

A territory where the ground is unswept, the seats are an ugly grey leather. All old, some torn. My gaze avoids the shocking and revolting drawings of dicks and strange messages covering the cream metal of the ceiling and sides.

I sit down in an empty seat, taking a deep breath. I immediately regret doing so, as the smells of piss, shit and potato chips enter my nose. 

I groan in a bit of pain when my foot shifts, looking down at my leg.

Blood. On my sock.

I sigh, pinching the area between my eyebrows. I move my foot slowly, avoiding the tongue of my boot from making the scratch worse. 

Unfortunately, I have to walk. In which case, I can't do anything.

Great. This is going to be a long day.

×××

Stepping off that bus was a relief. I thank the bus driver and look up at the school. It's massive.

The grey and red brick coats it from all sides in intentional patterns, almost to blend with the already turning forest that surrounded the school. 

My gaze falls on the large maple leaf stone that stands at the entrance.

Maples High.

Students pile into the front doors, pushing and shoving, me following them. I frown as the students behind me talk loudly, yelling curses. 

I hold the door open for the person behind me and step inside quickly.

First thought, too many people. Overlapping conversations, yelling, crowded hallways, groups of friends laughing and chatting about their vacations.

Second thought, that the halls reek of perfume, cologne and vape. From the corner of my eye, a group of girls with long - might I say - perfectly styled hair, spray perfume on their expensive tops, meanwhile guys spray each other in a fit of laughter.

More than once, confused glances are directed at me, checking my hair, clothes and shoes. A silent judgement of who I am and where I had come from, as if my outside appearance would give the answer. 

I don't belong here. And they seem to know it.

I enter the school's main entryway, and I truly got a view of how massive it is. The forum is held up by four large pillars. At the far end of the forum, two sets of grand stairs connected to the second floor. One going left, one right. 

The forum is filled with students.

I pull out my phone and search for the map my sister sent. I scanned the labels carefully. The right is the STEM stairs, left is humanities.

My first class is chemistry. At this deliciously early hour. 

Fantastic.

I head up the STEM stairs, stopping at the top to search the map for my class. A kid bumps me a bit and I almost drop my stuff in the process.

I cringe. I imagine Cady Heron holding her books to her chest, confused and lost. It doesn't seem too far from the truth, now.

The warning bell goes.

I feel sweat building in every kink of my body. Just from a sound. The back of my knees, armpits, between my fingers.

Is this where anxiety comes from?

I rush to the right, following the map. I look up from it to see a winding labyrinth before me. Several classrooms with door numbers that don't increase in order. Repeating doors, in practically identical hallways.

How do you not get lost? 

I check every classroom in that hall, before turning left to see another labyrinth. 

Panic is setting in as I walk up and down. The class is nowhere around here, despite what the map says.

My breathing grows deeper.

Thankfully I see a teacher, tall and brooding. He yells directions, pointing and guiding freshmen to the right classroom. I go up to him.

"Do you know where room 312 is?" I ask nervously.

"Middle of that hallway." He points straight, right where I was already checking.

I go down the hallway, checking more carefully.

312.

I sigh in relief. Then I step into the class. 

Already full.

I gulp down my embarrassment and my sudden urge to jump through a window and embrace my fate, or survive and run home.

Another round of thirty pairs of eyes are on me. The teacher's as well. She is a fairly young woman, jet black hair, long and straight, with even darker eyes like beads.

Her smile, however, is warm as she notices me enter.

"Are there no seats?" She says to the class, her voice soft and comforting. 

Silence. Stares. Judging. 

I imagine their thoughts. No one knows me, has seen me, or even heard of me.

Who would want to sit with a complete stranger?

I take back what I said; I don't want to risk survival by jumping through the window. I don't want to remember for the rest of my life how I couldn't even get a seat on my first day.

After what felt like ten minutes, a girl raises her hand. My gaze jumps to her. Bright blue eyes and messy brown hair. I notice her tye dye shirt with a watermelon in the centre. 

"She can sit with us, we have room," she says.

"Alright." The teacher said, giving me a patient look.

I move through the crowds of seats to sit at their table. The watermelon girl smiles at me, her blue eyes bright and filled with energy.

"I'm Brianna," she says excitedly.

"Oaklee." I smile back.

"That's cool! Like the tree?" She gasps, as if this is the greatest thing since sliced bread.

"Yes, the tree." I chuckle, and the two others at our table do, too. 

"It reminds me of a forest nymph, you know?"

I nod, a little confused. How does one have so much energy this early?

The two other girls introduce themselves as Brooke and Alex. Brooke, tall with dark red highlights and the most perfect winged eyeliner I've ever seen. Alex, not much shorter than I am, with flaming red hair tied back into a tight bun. Every few moments she would adjust her glasses.

The longer class went on, I notice how they appear to be very close.

I even catch myself laughing a few times at their ridiculous arguments. Mainly over which singer is better, which sauce is tastier, and the best sleeping position.

They occasionally asked for my opinion and I would either give one-word answers, or reply that I didn't know to prevent adding fuel to the fire.

I figure out that I enjoy just listening to them. Like watching a reality show after a long day. Suddenly, I realize the tightness in my chest, the sweat on my body, and the buzzing disappear.

As they speak, I can't help but occasionally eye the empty seat across from me.

"Who sits there?" I ask Brianna quietly.

"No clue," she shrugs. "Whoever shows up and takes it, I guess."

I nod, leaning back in my chair. My eyes on the front of the class.

All I can do is hope the rest of the day goes better.

[A/N]

Pretty boring chapter but i feel like it's somewhat funny and relatable. A lot of people have gone through this at some point LMAO

Anyways thanks for reading!

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