Happy First Day of School!

In my blinding, hot-pink shirt and denim jeans, I glided through the hallways. The first-day-of-the-school-year-exuberance and my new, sparkling sneakers had worn off. I had made it through my first four classes of tenth grade. I was now heading to one of the most dreaded classes of all—art class. For most kids, art was a place of freedom. There were fewer rules, the teacher was typically more relaxed, and there was virtually no homework. For me, however, art class promised the threat of embarrassing injuries and potential failures. Besides lacking creativity, I also greatly lacked any fine motor skills. Last year, I had sliced my finger so deeply on a penknife that I was rushed to the hospital for stitches. Covering everyone’s art projects in blood splatters was not how I wanted to make my first impression.

I walked into the classroom, glancing around at faces I had seen since kindergarten. Ruby’s gleaming lime green headband, sequined and stunning, bounced the fluorescent lights aimlessly about the room. Noah had grown at least two inches this summer, and the giddy girls gathered around him didn’t fail to notice. Everywhere, familiar kids laughed and joked, feeling a fresh sense of social status due to their newfound label as tenth graders. But then my eyes stopped on a new face. I slowly inventoried his body, making note of his chestnut hair, thick and disheveled, and his even deeper brown eyes. Although I didn’t know his name, a sensation fluttered in the pit of my stomach. I hoped that my cornflakes and chocolate milk wouldn’t spew onto the floor (also not a great way to make a good first impression). Some would call the sensation love at first sight. At fifteen years old, I was pretty sure the feeling was just some undigested food matter sloshing in my stomach. All I knew was that I was curious. I listened closely as roll was called and we were given seats. “Jenna Hansinger, Ashley White, Emma Groves…” And then I heard it for the first time. The teacher read the name of the boy who would be present in my life throughout its entirety, if only in memory.

She assigned him the seat next to me.

My fate was sealed then and there.

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