Sneak Peek - "First Day"

This is part of a currently on hold project about my high school life. It's a fairly early draft, I might add.

About half an hour later, I was standing in front of Hillside Secondary, briefly taking it in before entering the building.

Hillside wasn’t built like most high schools I’ve seen (because now I’m a school connoisseur or something). Most high school buildings tended to be variations of a central theme, which was ugly blocks made of bricks, concrete and windows that had all the personality of an HGTV special about home decoration, shows that frequently involved literally watching paint dry. On the other hand, Hillside was a different beast. To me it looked as if they had been building a brand new ski chalet, but then realized halfway through that one really couldn’t do much skiing in West Vancouver so they decided it would be a high school instead. I’ve been told by one or two people by now that it was actually supposed to be a community centre, and honestly, I believe that. Whatever the original intention was, it was now the place where I would be going to school for the next four years, so I had better familiarize myself with it.

The main doors of the school were surrounded by a large crowd of students, so I made the assumption that some vital information was posted somewhere in that vicinity. I approached the doors but held back just a step away from the crowd, as I didn’t want to push my way through to the pieces of paper I could now see were taped to the doors – there was plenty of time. Eventually a vacancy opened up and I quickly filled it, turning my attention to a piece of paper that was marked “Grade 9”. Assuming it to be a class list, I scanned the paper looking for my class number and teacher, a task that didn’t take long.

Alex Michaels – W104 (Mr. Henderson)

Having absorbed this information I passed through the front doors into the school proper, walking for a moment before I realized something: without any sense of direction as to where anything was in the school, the number W104 was completely meaningless to me.

Oh well, just ask for directions.

Yeah, but that would involve talking to people.

Oh. Uh oh.

I have honestly never understood the feeling of dread most blokes seem to have with asking for directions. It’s always seemed to me as if they’re all somehow convinced that they would suddenly lose their manliness to him, as if their balls would drop off if they ever pulled to the side of the road and asked, “Excuse me miss (or more likely “m’lady” because most guys are raging memesters), but could you direct me to the corner shop?” However, in some ways I sympathize because I am also incapable of asking for directions – not because I think I’m too manly to do so or anything, but for a far more simple reason:

I’m terrified of talking to other people.

I don’t know what it is. I can talk to my friends all right, but strangers, even if they’re the same age as me and seem completely harmless? A completely different game. This becomes about fifteen times worse when the random person I have to talk to is female – I am way too awkward to talk to a girl unless I know her (the paradox there leading to the fact that I can count all the friends I’ve ever had who were girls on one hand. Diversity!)

I took a moment to weigh up my options, and found that two immediately presented themselves to me. I could either get over myself now and go and ask somebody for directions, or I could stand there like a complete tool and hope that someone might come up to me thinking ‘Oh, look at that poor dumbass! Let’s get him to class before he dies!’ The latter train of thought seemed more appealing to me than the first, but ultimately it would not have gotten me very far. I took a deep breath and decided to go down the former route, preparing myself for contact with another human being.

Right. Here we go…

Before I could approach someone with my question and bags of social anxiety, a tall lanky bloke – probably Grade 12 at my first guess – approached me, looking like he had come across many a lost soul already today. Given that a bunch of new students had dropped on the school, it was very likely that he had.

“Hey man,” he said, “Looking for your homeroom?”

Must be written all over my face in neon pen.

“Yes,” I replied, “I’m looking for… W104.”

“Ah, that’s in the west wing,” the Grade 12 said, pointing off to his left, “It’s the woodshop room.”

I momentarily fought the urge to make a reference to the political drama The West Wing, which my parents had been watching a while ago – it’s not like anybody would get it anyway – and I thanked the Grade 12 bloke before following the directions he had given me.

The Woodshop room…

I followed the hall that the bloke had pointed me down and quickly came across a room with a door labeled ‘W104’. Beyond the glass door I could see wooden benches and a load of dangerous looking equipment, and I decided that it wouldn’t be a stretch of the human imagination to suggest I was in the right place.

Crushes in Science Class (and Other Assorted Mysteries) is an upcoming novel by Michael Freckelton. Stay tuned for release details.