Chapter 8 (post two)

Pre-note: I still have not written in such a long, long time... and I am still behind in my readings for school (which, as my aunt just pointed out as she glanced over at my typing away on her dining room table, is not surprising). Here's the next section, anyhow! Please comment and let me know that I'm not just sending this out into cyberspace, that someone/anyone is actually reading it! 

Chapter eight (or seven in my records), section two:

School was how I remembered it.

A teacher stood up front, beside a chalkboard and a smart board, explaining concepts and examples. In my English class, which was deemed a “Level Three” class, the concepts were more advanced and less hands-on than my Chemistry class, which was a “Level Two.” I didn’t have much background knowledge from the real world in Chemistry, though, having taken it only as a part of the general Science course I had taken the year before, so I appreciated the set-up. However, it was also similar in the fact when I told a student I befriended in Level Three English that I had Level One Physics after lunch, they almost flinched. The school was very similar to my old one: competitive, over-achieving, mark-crazy brown-noser standards. I almost groaned, “Oh god,” to that English student, but I kept my mouth shut.

Lunch was also very similar, a large rush of students out of the building and onto the lush green campus, except I wasn’t the least bit hungry.

I met Chantel outside of the entrance we’d come into that morning. She had the same perky grin on her face as that morning, although her hair had wilted a bit from its perfect shape.

“Hey! How were your classes after English?”

“Great, actually.  Chemistry was not as bad as I expected, and math was a breeze.”

“Yeah, Gilbert’s a great teacher. Let’s head around the campus and end-up at the cafeteria, ok?”

I followed her through along the winding path, past the residence to the library (a simple, small building with two levels, loaded with books), then to the gym (a larger, one story building with new floors, high ceilings and bright orange basketball hoops) and finally along to the cafeteria. The garden was packed with students sitting in groups and pairs on benches and in the grass. A couple even recognized me and waved as I passed.

“Was that Brenda that just waved at you?” Chantel asked, her voice losing its high pitch.

“Yeah, I think so. She was in my math class. Why?” I glanced back at the blonde who had just waved, but she’d already turned back to the group she was sitting with.

“I would watch out for her. She was best friends with my friend Amy until last year, when she went behind Amy’s back and made-out with her boyfriend. Amy freaked out. She had been room-mates with Brenda, but after that Amy got her kicked out of the room. There weren’t any rooms left that were open, though, and no one wanted to room with her, so she was stuck in one of the basement rooms they only use for over-flow and that have no windows. Now Brenda only hangs out with niners. Oh, and did I mention Amy told me she doesn’t even shave in the winter? Isn’t that gross?” Chantel’s face held a look of disgust, so I nodded in reply.

This school was more and more like my old by the minute.

The cafeteria looked identical to the gym building, except little smaller and at its entrance were red tulips instead of white hydrangeas. Inside, the room was lit mostly by natural light from rows of windows (outside all the buildings looked to be made of the same gray-black material and you couldn’t tell which parts were one-way windows and which were only walls). The one wall was taken up by the long counter where students were lined up with trays, picking out sandwiches and soups, all self-serve. The rest of the room was filled with blue tables and navy chairs.

“Do you want something?” Chantel asked me.

I almost replied that I wasn’t hungry, and then it occurred to me that I would never be, so I responded, “Sure.”

The rows of delicious food turned out to be made of four things: soups, salads, sandwiches and drinks. The food, although made up of less options than back home, was much healthier and a lot less greasy, as well as better tasting. When we picked a table in by one of the windows and sat down with our salads and chocolate milks, I smiled. “This is much nicer than overcooked hamburgers and soggy fries, heh?”

Chantel looked at me with a blank face, her fork half-lifted to her mouth. “Huh?”

“Burgers and fries.”

“What do you mean?”

“From –” Then I stopped myself from saying it. I must have overstepped some unspoken rule, to mention things that I remembered from being alive. Maybe they didn’t remember the way I did, or maybe they’d forgotten, but either way, I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself on my first day of school.

“Never mind, Chantel.” I said and took a bite of my low-fat Caesar salad.

She took a bite of her Greek salad, and when she looked back up at me her smile had returned. “Have you seen what Mr. Zuber is wearing today?”

The rest of the lunch period was spent talking about present teachers and last year’s teachers. After a while Chantel’s friends found her and pulled chairs over to our table. She whizzed through their names so fast that I only caught a couple, and then they were laughing and joking about something else. I was slightly overwhelmed but smiling by the time lunch ended and I was heading off to Level One Physics.