Chapter 7: New Beginnings

What is it about High Schools? No matter how old or new they are, they all seem to have that same smell. A smell of floor polish, chalk dust, speed stick, too much perfume, and paper. It’s not an unpleasant smell, just unique to high schools.

I stepped through the glass doors of the school office, my stomach twisting with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The low hum of conversations and the soft shuffle of papers surrounded me. At the reception desk, a middle-aged woman with warm brown eyes and an inviting smile looked up from her computer.

“Good morning! How can I help you today?” she asked, her tone way too perky for a Monday morning.

“Hi, I’m Dawn,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “I just transferred in and need to check in.”

“Ah, yes! Welcome to Robertson, Dawn! Let me just pull up your records,” she replied, typing swiftly. “And how are you finding the school so far?”

How was I finding school? I just got here, lady!

But, of course, I couldn’t say that. So I hedged.

I glanced around the office, which was busy with notices and posters about upcoming events. “I haven’t really had a chance to explore yet, to be honest.”

She nodded knowingly. “It can be a bit overwhelming at first, but you’ll settle in no time. Don’t worry, we have a great bunch of students here.”

I appreciated her encouragement as she handed me a slip on a clipboard. “You’ll need to speak with your guidance counselor for your class schedule. Just go through that door and turn left; her office is the third one on the right.”

“Thank you.” I replied, trying to calm the snakes in my stomach.

Following her directions, I knocked softly on the door of the guidance counselor’s office. A muffled voice called out, “Come in!”

I pushed the door open to find a cozy room filled with motivational posters and a small bookshelf crammed with self-help books. Behind a desk cluttered with papers sat a woman in her thirties. Her hazel eyes sparkled with warmth.

“Hi, I’m Ms. Roberts, the guidance counselor. You must be Dawn! It’s great to meet you! Come in, have a seat,” she said. I couldn’t help it, her welcoming demeanor was actually starting to put me at ease.

“Thank you,” I said as I settled into a chair. I noted a small dragon figurine sitting on her desk. Was she a gamer, or a poser?

“So, let’s get you set up for the week,” Ms. Roberts said, flipping through a folder on her desk. “You’re starting just as we’re getting into the groove of the semester. Here’s your class schedule.” She handed me a brightly colored paper, and as I scanned it, I saw a mix of subjects: Algebra II, Biology, Art, and English Literature.

“I see you have Ms. Foster for English—she’s wonderful. Just a heads-up, her class can get lively, but you’ll do great,” Ms. Roberts reassured me with a bright smile.

“Thanks! I hope so,” I replied, grateful for her encouragement.

After a few more pleasantries, I stood to leave. “I really appreciate your help, Ms. Roberts.”

“Anytime, Dawn. Remember, my door is always open if you need anything,” she said, waving me off with a kind smile.

Feeling a renewed sense of purpose, I hurried down the hall, glancing at the clock. It read 8:53 AM. English Literature had started at 8:30—great, I was already twenty minutes late.

As I walked through the doors of Ms. Foster’s classroom, the buzz of conversation hushed instantly, and all eyes turned toward me. My heart raced as I moved uncertainly to the front of the room.

“Ah, you must be our new student!” Ms. Foster said, her expression warm as she glanced down at her notes. “Welcome, Dawn. Don’t worry about being late. Why don’t you introduce yourself to the class?”

Introduce myself? What was this, show and tell? What was I supposed to say? “Today I brought me in. I’m a total dweeb.”?

I tugged at my sleeves, gathering my courage. “Um, hi everyone. I’m Dawn, and I just moved here. I’m excited to be in your class.”

“Okay, class, let’s give Dawn a warm welcome,” Ms. Foster prompted, and a few half-hearted claps echoed through the room.

I felt heat rush to my cheeks as I took an empty seat. The chatter resumed, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that my introduction was just the beginning of something far more complicated than I had anticipated.

Ms. Foster continued her lesson. “Ok, so we were discussing Act 3, Scene 1. The monologue Banquo gives...”

Shakespeare? I knew Shakespeare. When one is a socially isolated, high intelligence teen, you somehow will always immerse yourself in “the classics”. They bring a sense of order to a life that is full of disorder.

But to have them reading “The Scottish Play”? It was just too sweet. I had already memorized it and started mouthing along to the words as the class read from their texts.

Ms. Foster’s words faded into the background as I tried to get a sense of the room. The students varied in their attentiveness. Some were scribbling notes furiously, others whispering to each other, and one was even playing a game on their phone—not subtly.

For the most part, I just tried to remain invisible. I had learned, through sad experience, that to stand out was a very, very bad thing.

Unfortunately, I had failed. “Dawn? Can you stay behind a moment?” Ms. Foster asked after the bell rang and the rest of the students were filing out.

Once we were the only two in the room, she kindly asked. “Another student said that, as we were reading the text, you were mouthing the words from memory. Is that true?”

Shit. How was I going to explain this? Why would a teen have memorized Macbeth?

“I played Lady Macbeth in my last schools drama club. I guess I just kinda memorized the entire thing while we rehearsed.”

If I had wanted to remain in the background, this was not the way to do it.

Ms. Foster’s eyes lit up. “Fantastic! You see, we have a little tradition in this class. Every year, we put on a small performance of one of the plays we study. And this year, it’s Macbeth. Would you be interested in auditioning for Lady Macbeth again?”

“Umm ... sure, I guess.” I said, trying to appear nonchalant, but kicking myself internally.

“Great! Auditions are next week. I’ll keep an eye out for you. Now, off to your next class, but remember, the play’s the thing wherein we’ll catch the conscience of the king—and hopefully the heart of Robertson High School!”

Ok, I admit, that was kind of cute, and I couldn’t help but smile.

I left the classroom, wondering what the hell I had just gotten myself into, to find a blonde girl waiting for me.

“Hi. I’m Julie. You’re Dawn, right?”

I nodded, surprised by the friendly greeting. She had a bubbly personality that was a stark contrast to anything I had previously experienced in my prior life.

“Guilty as charged, I guess.” I said, brushing some hair from my face. I was still trying to get used to the longer hair style.

Julie’s smile grew wider. “I hope you don’t mind me cornering you like this.” She said with a smile. “It’s just that you looked a little bit lost, no offense. I just wanted to say ‘hello’.”

Her words were like a breath of fresh air after the storm of anxiety that had been brewing inside me. “Thanks, I appreciate it,” I replied tentatively.

Julie looked at me with genuine curiosity. “You’re welcome. So, where are you coming from? What brings you to Robertson?”

“Oh, I’m from Ohio,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. The question felt like a door opening into a part of my life I wasn’t ready to share. “I’m just here temporarily, actually. My Uncle lives here, and he’s going on a multi-month trip, so I’m staying to watch his house.” It was a simple explanation, but it held enough truth to satisfy her curiosity without revealing the mess of my reality.

Julie’s eyes widened slightly. “Wow, that’s cool! I’ve always wanted to visit Ohio. What’s it like there?”

Dawn gave a soft chuckle before replying, “You know, it’s the kind of place where the most exciting thing is watching paint dry. And I’m not exaggerating—last time that happened, the governor almost called in the national guard!”

Julie’s eyes widened with feigned shock. “Wow, really? That sounds like quite the party town,” she teased.

“You have no idea,” I said with a grin. “The wildlife is absolutely ... still. Like, the deer actually pose for photos with you.”

Julie giggled. “Well, if you ever need a tour guide here, I’d be happy to show you around. This school has more drama than Shakespeare ever dreamed of.” She leaned closer, whispering, “But don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Tell anyone you said what?” I replied, playing along, trying to keep my nerves at bay.

Julie leaned in, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know, the school drama. It’s like a soap opera with lockers and hallway gossip instead of fancy sets and commercials,” she whispered.

“Sounds ... interesting,” I said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

Julie picked up on it and laughed. “Yeah, it’s like watching a reality show without the prize money. But don’t worry, I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks,” I said, genuinely grateful. “But you don’t have to do that.”

Julie shrugged. “Hey, everyone needs a wing-person, especially when you’re navigating the treacherous waters of high school. And I’m pretty good at keeping drama at bay. Unless it’s on the stage, of course,” she said, winking.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, feeling a bit more at ease. “But I’ve had enough drama to last a lifetime.”

Julie’s expression grew more serious. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

I nodded, not knowing what to say. It had been a long time since someone had offered to help me so openly.

Julie looked at her watch and gasped. “Oh no! We’re both gonna be late to our next class! What do you have next?”

I had to check the printout Ms. Roberts had given me. “Umm ... Algebra II it looks like.”

“Ah! Martinez! Come on!” She grabbed my hand and started to pull me behind her.

We hurried out of the hallway together, dodging the rushing students like a pair of salmon fighting their way upstream. We turned the corner and found ourselves face to face with a stern-looking male teacher. He was tall with a buzz-cut and had the kind of arms that suggested he could bench press a small car.

“Young ladies, don’t you have a class to get to?” he asked, his voice firm but not unkind.

“Yes, sorry!” I squeaked, suddenly feeling like a kid caught playing hooky.

Julie, ever the social butterfly, gave him a dazzling smile. “I was just making sure Dawn knew her way around. She’s new,” she said, looping her arm through mine. “And you know how easy it is to get lost in this maze of a school.”

The teacher’s expression softened a bit. “Ah, I see. Welcome to Robertson, then. I’m Mr. Ramirez, the history teacher. Don’t let these hallways get the best of you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ramirez,” I said, feeling the weight of his gaze on us as we continued on our way.

As we walked, I couldn’t help but notice that the school’s atmosphere was changing. The hallways grew more crowded, the sounds of lockers slamming and sneakers squeaking against the floor grew louder, and the scent of cafeteria food began to waft through the air.

“So, what’s the deal with the drama club?” I asked Julie as we approached my next class.

Her eyes lit up. “It’s amazing! We’re a tight-knit group. We work hard and play hard, you know? And we’re actually pretty good. We’ve won a few awards at the regional competitions.”

“That’s cool,” I said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I felt. The last thing I wanted was to get involved in any kind of drama, especially the kind that came with a spotlight.

Julie stopped outside my next classroom, her expression turning serious. “Look, if you decide to audition for Lady Macbeth, you’ve got some competition. There’s this other girl, Madison. She thinks she’s got the part in the bag. She’s got the look, the voice, and she’s pretty good at the whole ... manipulation thing.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Manipulation?”

Julie nodded. “Yeah, she’s got the teacher’s wrapped around her little finger. But she’s not the only one who’s got talent, you know. Just don’t let her get to you.”