POV Nicholas

As I find myself parking the car rather than exiting, I have chosen to spend my time here.

I settled myself comfortably in the car and adjusted my seat. Considering that I still have 37 minutes before the start of school, and it being the first day, there will be a morning assembly to welcome freshmen and new students. I must admit, I do not particularly feel enthusiastic about attending.

The only reason for my knowledge of this information is due to the welcome packets that were provided. These packets contained the school map, events calendar, my schedule, and some cheap school merchandise that bore the message, "Welcome to Westville High."

Apparently, this school is divided into three parts: middle school, high school, and college. Of course, they separate the students, considering the campus itself is as big as a town. Although there are times when they do mix, like when 8th graders are about to move to high school. They show them around and let them move to the high school side in the last month before summer break. The same goes for seniors planning to attend college here.

I wonder if they think doing this will make things easier for them. I mean, if you are going to be bullied in high school, going there a few months early won't change anything. In fact, it will hasten the process.

However, that is how high school is for you. Some people are popular, some are unnoticed, and some are subjected to bullying. These three categories encompass the entirety of the high school experience. In other words, everyone fits into one of these categories. Sometimes, it is obvious, such as with jocks and loners. At other times, it may be difficult to discern because you are not fully integrated into your group. For instance, you may be somewhat well-known but not particularly popular, or you may experience bullying but not to the extent that you are reduced to tears in the washroom. In essence, if you believe that you do not belong to any of these groups and are attempting to establish your own, you are simply deceiving yourself.

Popularity can be attained for various reasons beyond sports and cheerleading. Even nerds can achieve popularity under the right circumstances. I have even observed jocks who are subjected to bullying. High school lacks a defined hierarchy or rhythm that one can follow. The individuals at the top are the ones who establish the rules. In other words, if the teachers are indifferent and the most popular students are unpleasant, a single misstep can result in a miserable existence for you.

As I sat there lost in my thoughts, my eyelids began to droop, and I realized that if I stayed there, I would surely fall asleep. As much as I liked that idea, some part of me looked forward to the idea of a new school where no one knows you from your playground days.

I opened my car door and grabbed my bag before getting out of the car. As I walked toward what I believed to be the high school building, I noticed the words "Westville High School" written at the top.

This is where I will be spending the next two years of my life. The school is even more magnificent than I had imagined. It stands at least four stories tall, with more than half of its exterior made of glass, allowing a clear view of the interior. If someone had told me this was a university, I would have readily agreed.

Just to be certain, I took out my school map and looked at the directions.

"Are you new here?" I heard a slightly deep, cheerful voice ask from behind me. I turned around to see an enthusiastic, brown-haired guy. Just from the look in his bright, green eyes, I could tell he was eagerly waiting for an answer.

"Yeah?" I said back with a questioning look.

He smiled at me awkwardly before pointing at the piece of paper in my hands. "Normal people don't walk around looking at a map here," he said.

"Oh," was all I could say, realizing how I might seem to others. Slightly embarrassed, I looked away.

"It's okay. This is a pretty big school, after all." He let out a light laugh. "If you want, I could take you to the auditorium for the assembly and then show you around." He asked, scratching the back of his head. I could see a hint of nervousness in his bright eyes.

Knowing that I was planning to skip the whole welcome ceremony, I couldn't help but question why I gave this reply: "Yeah, that sounds good."

Before I knew it, we were walking down the hallway past several different colored lockers, each with its own unique style. For Disney, change film ones to Lord of the Rings. "As you can see, the school allows us to decorate our lockers however we want," he explains. "Of course, until you paint a d*ck with Trump's face on it, then all talk of creativity is out the window," he mumbles in a low voice that I could barely hear.

Controlling my facial expression from contracting, I asked myself why anyone would think a school would allow such a thing. Before I could think any further, I heard him starting to speak again.

"By the way, you can call me Emmett." I looked at him, confused before processing his words.

"Nicholas."

"Oh, can I call you Nick or maybe Nicky?" he says, deep in thought.

How does someone just start giving nicknames to a person they just met? But if I don't answer, I may regret it. "Nick is just fine."

"But Nicky is so much better," he whined, and I felt myself flinch.

I don't want to remember anything about the past, and that name is a huge reminder of it. "I just don't like it."

With that, I gave him a pointed look, hoping he took the hint. If I want a peaceful high school life, I believe I should distance myself from this guy. I could already feel the migraine starting.

After that, we silently walk toward the auditorium side by side.

Taking a quick glance at him, I realize he's actually good-looking with his slightly sharp jawline and well-defined face that still has a childlike touch to it. If I were into guys, I would have found him more appealing.

Just as I was about to look away, our eyes made contact. I quickly avert my gaze.

"Um, the auditorium is right at the end of the hall," he says, clearing his throat.

I look ahead only to see a larger, blue double door with one side open and a few students roaming outside, talking with their friends. I could tell it's going to be packed inside; no wonder the halls were so deserted.

"Emmett!" I hear someone shout out before a guy jumps on his back. "I'm going to kill you," he exclaims. "How could you, you little sh*t?"

I could feel chills run down my back. 'Relax, Nick, just relax,' I tell myself.

"Chill, bro," Emmett says with a calm look.

"How can I chill when my skin is like this?" The guy with black hair and orange skin screams out.

I couldn't help but let out a chuckle, trying to hold back the best I could.

"See, it looks good on you, Rick," he says, gesturing to me also laughing.

"I'm pretty sure that guy is laughing at him, like the several dozen people who saw him," a guy said, appearing on the other side of Emmett. He looks like the other guy without the orange skin. "How did you do it?" he questioned.

"I had some help, but I can't say from whom." With that, he starts trying to remove the guy from his back.

"I knew one of those f*ckers had something to do with this." He says, tightening his hold around Emmett. "Who was it?" he hisses, not letting go even with Emmett pulling at his arms and shaking around. But he remained attached to him like a koala.

Other people also began looking our way; some even chuckled at their antics before the orange guy glared at them, causing them to become silent and look away. However, I observed a few people recording the entire incident.
"Hey, Rick, let go of him now," the other guy says, trying to pull him off Emmett, who was now struggling to breathe.

After some time, the guy named Rick finally lets go of Emmett, looking like he has a new target now. "Anyway, who are you?" he asks.

I could sense the inquisitive gazes of two pairs of vivid, vaguely familiar blue eyes on me. Abruptly, a sense of unease washed over me.

I knew I had to respond, yet my attention was irresistibly drawn to their eyes. Despite the fact that this was undoubtedly our first encounter, there was an unsettling familiarity in their gaze that I couldn't quite comprehend.

Do I know them, or...

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Thanks for reading, loves! ❤️

What do you think of Nick's ideas about high school? Are they true or untrue? 🤔 For me, it's a 50/50 split. But, high school experiences are different, so I can't speak for everyone.

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