JESSICA
Back in Black by AC/DC
Fuck high school. Fuck the preppy little posers in their designer clothes. Fuck the teachers with their uptight rules. Fuck the noise, the overstuffed hallways, the bells that control our every movement, and especially that square fucking cardboard ass pizza from the cafeteria that they pretend is a nutritious lunch.
I hate high school. They all suck. I can say, without a doubt, that there is no public high school in this country that is not a soul sucking cesspool. And as someone who has now attended five different schools in the last three and a half years, I consider myself an expert at the true misery which is the American high school system. Listen, I know what you’re thinking—five high schools in three and a half years? I must be some sort of nightmare teenager who starts fires orsome shit. What do they call that again? Pyromaniac, I think. Well, no, I’m not a pyro or a criminal or anything really.
My mom is a single mom. She does what she has to. And often that includes moving me and my brother along with her when the next new boyfriend invites us to live with him. Usually they’re shit heads, but it puts a roof over our heads, even if only temporarily. The newest one, Steve, is a car salesman with a bad combover and persistent sweat stains. I’m not a fan. But he’s invited us to move in with him which is why we moved to the very inappropriately named Sunnyvale, since it doesn’t appear very sunny. In fact, it’s cold as fuck right now.
“Ready, buddy?” I ask as I look down at Tommy. My little brother smiles up at me timidly.
He’s what others might call a ‘fragile kid.’ He’s always been frail and pale. His red hair sticks up at awkward angles. A splattering of dark freckles marks his face. I worry about him. I know the other kids bully him. Plus, now he’s at his second high school within his very first year. It’s not ideal.
“Think this one will be better than the last?” he asks. I can see fear glint in his dark eyes and I feel guilt wrack through me. I wish I could save him from the cruelty of others but I can’t be with him all the time.
I liked our last school. It was small, less uptight than some of the others. Plus, I had a girlfriend there who ate me like her last fucking meal. I was pissed we had to pack up and leave.
“I bet it’ll be great.” I plaster on the fakest smile I can muster and pray it’s convincing. “Plus, it’ll be spring soon and I bet there’s some spring sports teams you could join.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah right. I’ll go get my football pads right away.”
I laugh alongside him but I’m only half kidding. At least if he could join a team, any team, he’d have some friends who could watch his back. The only friends he had at our last school were other dweebs who also played Dungeons and Dragons. And they sure as shit didn’t have his back against the bullies.
“Let’s head in. Don’t want to be late on day one,” I say as I hitch my bag up my shoulder.
Everyone here appears to be dressed in cute sweaters and fleeces. All the girls have fur lined boots and cute knit caps. Apparently, that’s what’s in fashion out here in Sunnyvale.
“Welcome to Sunnyvale High School. Home of the Fighting Boars” a large sign says as we walk up the snow streaked sidewalk. I scoff under my breath at the ridiculous cartoon pig with tusks depicted on the sign.
“A pig. How terrifying.” I laugh as we pass. Tommy chuckles too but I can tell he’s nervous.
The school is a two story red brick building with white trimmed windows. The paint is peeling around the glass frames and there’s stains on the bricks. It looks old, like it’s seen too many lives come and go. A frigid breeze blows a lock of red hair across my face and Imove to push it back behind my ear. A shiver runs down my spine and a sense of dread curls in my core, but I push it away.
“Here we go,” Tommy whispers under his breath as we join the throng of students walking up the front steps and entering through the wide front doors.
The hallways are crowded and cramped. The persistent buzz of noise grates against my nerves almost immediately. I feel claustrophobic.
“What number’s my locker again?” Tommy asks beside me as we push and shove through the sea of bodies.
“You’re 107 and I’m 425,” I tell him as I look down at the two pieces of paper clenched in my hands—his schedule and mine. Our locker numbers are at the top along with the combos. We asked if we could change the combos but they said they’re preassigned.
“This is you,” I tell Tommy as we saddle up next to his locker. “Need help? Know where you’re headed?”
“Jess,” he tells me with the clipped tone of his that’s somewhere between exasperated and entertained. “I’m fifteen, not five. I got this.”
I worry my bottom lip as I watch him spin the silver dial and pop open the black locker. The metal clangs as it swings open.
“You sure you don’t want me to—“
“Sis.” He levels me with a glare, his dark eyes serious beneath the lock of ginger hair that’s fallen across his forehead. “I’m good. You’ll be late for your own class. For real.” He nods reassuringly, and I swallow down the nervous lump forming in my throat. “Meet here at three?”
I nod swiftly and give him a small side hug.
“Find me if you need me,” I tell him as I hand over his schedule.
“Have a good first day, sis,” he says cheerily before moving to shove books and binders in his locker.
I walk away, glancing past my shoulder as I do. A small boy walks up to him. He has frizzy brown hair and glasses. They shake hands and start talking. Tommy smiles.
