I'm running. I've been doing a lot of physical activity lately. Back home, I was always too caught up in my schoolwork to pay attention to running and sports and stuff like that. Now though...well...I don't know. I think my dad's side of the family is finally starting to kick in. He'd be so proud of me. My grandmother says I shouldn't be running around so much though. She says it's bad for my asthma. But she worries a lot too. That's one thing I've learned about the woman in the three months I've been here. Well that...and that she wears a lot of makeup. She's my father's mother, that's another reason she worries about me too. When she looks at me, she sees him...and I guess it's like she's becoming a mother for the second time. I know they didn't' talk much over the last few years. I don't know if she deeply regrets it or whatever though. She doesn't' really talk about my parents with me. She only talks about my starting school next week, and how much she wishes I would give in and go to Vermillion like the other ‘upstanding gentlemen my age'. But I won't go there. It would remind me too much of Harding, and I don't want to get homesick right now. I went through that the first week I was here, and now...thank God, I've gotten past it a little bit.

I'm going to Hanson Memorial High School. There's one other high school here in Franklin, but Hanson is the one within walking distance of my grandmother's Colonial. She told me she doesn't understand why I would need to walk back and forth to school when she has a perfectly capable driver to bring me there and back. I don't' want that though. I told her, I just want to be normal. This school isn't like Harding, where everybody pulls up to school in limousine's and BMW's. It's just your normal run of the mill middle class high school. I don't want people to form an opinion about me before they get to know me...and further more, I don't want them knowing who my grandmother is...but I'm sure my last name will give it away right off the bat. Gertrude Parker Timberlake owns this town...and everybody knows it too. I don't want to be known as ‘the oil boy' or whatever other name they're sure to make up for me. I just want to be me...Justin Timberlake. I want my friends to like me for who I am and what I can do...not for the money I have. My friends back home were that way with me. They liked me for me...

Man, I really miss them.

I've never been in this section of town before. It's nothing like my grandmother's neighborhood though, I can tell. There are no big three story houses here, or picture perfect landscapes to gaze at. These houses are small, and most of them are grungy and run down. I stop running, and Fritz whimpers a little because I've stopped him. "Wait," I huff, glancing up at the street sign. Hmm...Carling Street. The name rings a bell, but I can't remember why. Maybe my grandmother told me about it? Heck, I don't know, she's been telling me so many things about so many people and places I can't keep track anymore. With a shrug I move forward, figuring I might as well get to know every part of town while I still have time. Once school starts, I know I'm going to be swamped with homework and papers. I saw my placement card yesterday, and I've been accepted as an advanced placement student. My grandmother was proud of me I guess...but then, I'm sure she expected it from me. She knows I'm smart...she's seen my school review and everything.

As I venture further along, I'm sure I can hear kids playing. Then Fritz bolts forward, and tries his best to drag me down the sidewalk with him. He's so little though, he has no dominance over me. I give him a little slack though, and walk faster. I know he loves playing with kids. Back home, he used to love it when I would take him to Jack's house. Jack has three younger brothers...a field day for a dog who loves to play. I know Fritz has been missing them. He hasn't been eating like he used to. My grandmother says I should take him to the vet and get him looked at...that he's probably not used to the weather down here. I know that's not the case though. He just has to get used to this change...

Just like I do.

We reach the end of the block, and I see what's got Fritz so excited. There are two little kids running around a sprinkler, in front of a very small...very run down piece of property. The kids don't seem to care though. They're happy with their sprinkler.

"A doggie!" The smaller child stops in the middle of the squirting water and points at Fritz and I. "Sammy look! A doggie! A doggie!"

I smile, and move closer to the small patch of grass. "Hey," I say. I let Fritz off of his leash, and he eagerly bounds toward the kids. Damn, I haven't' seen him this excited in a long time. It gets me to smile. I can't remember the last time I smiled.

The screen door opens a moment later, and a girl who looks about my age comes outside. She's average height...maybe 5'5" or so. Her brown hair is tossed up in messy pony tail, and there is dirt on her shirt and pants. The sponge in her hand is telling me she's been cleaning, and the look on her face is telling me she's tired. But the dirt and fatigue can't conceal her natural beauty. She's got a deep set tan, which I'm sure is natural. I wonder, maybe she's Latin? Yeah, she could be. Or Italian. She's got soft brown eyes, and cute pouty lips. I feel like I should introduce myself, but I don't know what to say. I'm sure we have nothing in common, and I don't want to look like a fool in her eyes.

"You kids know not to talk to strangers!" she hollers. Then she looks at me. She doesn't seem too happy that I've stopped to watch the kids play. But...this isn't the best neighborhood. If I was in her place I wouldn't trust me either. "That's your dog?" she asks.

I nod, and step closer to her. The water sprays me a little, but I don't mind. It's hot as hell, and I'll probably walk back through the sprinkler on my way out of here. "Yeah," I tell her, sticking out my hand. "I'm uh...I'm Justin."

She shakes my hand. "Why are you talking to my brother and sister?" She sits down on the fronts steps and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. "Are you some kind of freak?"

I chuckle a bit. "No. My dog...he likes kids."

She glances over at Fritz, and I do the same. He's running through the sprinkler with the two kids. They're squealing...having fun. I'm glad I came by, even though my grandmother is going to be upset with me when I bring Fritz home all wet. She just had him groomed yesterday too. I can hear her now. ‘Young man, have you no decency? You're lucky I'm allowing you to keep that--that animal.'

"That looks like an expensive dog," she tells me, pulling a cigarette out of the pack and lighting it up. She takes a drag, and then slowly blows the smoke out of her mouth. "What kind is it?"

"He's a Bichon Frise," I say. "The breed originated in the northern part of France, and actually it didn't get over to this part of he world till about 1955. They‘re a lot more common now of course."

She laughs out loud. "Damn," she says, taking another drag. "Are you some kind of walking encyclopedia?" She gives me a queer look. "If I press your nose, will you recite the Constitution?"

I feel my face turn red. It's happening already. I'm a walking talking dork. I need to remember that this isn't home. She's not part of the Harding crowd. People don't' act like that here...sophisticated. They're cool, hip, trendy; well at least they think they are. But that's definitely not me. "No," I manage to say, not meeting her gaze.

"Sorry..."

I look at her. The look in her eyes is telling me that she feels bad for insulting me. But she doesn't realize that it doesn't' matter what she says to me. Her words can't bring me down any lower than I am already. "Don't worry about it," I reassure her. "It's was just a joke, right?"

"Yeah," she nods. "So...you go to private school or something?" She finishes her cigarette and crushes the butt against the step below her foot. "I've haven't seen you around here."

"Well, uh...no," I say, not quite meeting her gaze. "I mean, I used to go to private school but then I moved out here a few weeks ago. I live over on Quaker with my grandmother."

"Quaker..." she looks at me, and her eyes get wide. "Well shit, no wonder you have a Bitchin Frizzy or whatever the hell it is."

I begin to correct her. "Bichon Fris--"

"It was a joke, Justin," she sighs and gets up from the step. "Are you always so serious?"

Serious? I don't get it. I've never thought myself to be serious, and none of my friends think I am. I read a lot...so I know a lot. Bichon's are my favorite breed. Why is it so weird that I know about them? "I'm not serious," I inform her. "Just knowledgeable and educated."

She rolls her eyes. "Sure." She turns her focus to the two kids in the front yard. "Sammie! Carley! Inside!"

I get up, and whistle for Fritz, who comes bounding over to my side immediately. He shakes himself off, getting his mess on me in the process. I'm so busy trying to fix his fur, I don‘t have the chance to react when I hear a little giggle behind me. Then I feel it. Something hits me on the back side, and a moment later I feel a cool surge of water running down my back and legs. I turn away from Fritz to find the small boy that was playing in the sprinkler, standing at the bottom of the stairs. His smile is a mile wide, and I see a bag of water balloons in his tiny right fist.

"Sammy!" I hear what's-her-name yell. "What have I told you about throwing water balloons at people?"

Sammy doesn't say anything. He just giggles again and runs up the stairs and into the house. I can hear him yell something to the other child somewhere in the house, and then I hear more giggles and laughter. I smile again. I run my hands through my thick mass of curls, trying to get the access water out, but it doesn't‘ help much. "It's okay," I reassure her after a moment. "It's hot anyway."

"He does it all the time," she grumbles. "The other day he did it to the post man, only the post man wasn't‘ so understanding. I‘m really sorry Justin, do you want a towel or something?"

I chuckle a little. "Don‘t be sorry. I was gonna walk through the sprinkler before I left here anyway. Your brother saved me a trip through. And if they hadn't been playing out here, I wouldn't have made my first friend." I smile at her, and loop Fritz's leash around his neck. He starts to whine again. He always wants to run. It's the only downside that this dog has, but I guess I should be thankful for that. If he tore up things and dug holes in the garden, Grandmother would surely give him away.

"Friend?"

"Well...yeah." I'm kind of confused. It's almost as if they idea of me being her friend is insane or out of the question. "I mean, I thought we hit it off well enough, don't you?"

She frowns. "You have a lot to learn about this town, Justin."

She turns to go back into the house, and frankly, I'm a little put off by her. She seemed nice at first, but now the only thing she seems like is a little snob. I cringe inside, and decide to go back home so I don't have to deal with her attitude anymore. But something stops me before I can start back down the sidewalk. My mind is screaming at me....she never told you her name. What does it matter? Oh hell...

I turn around. But she's already gone.

So much for fitting in.

********

"Please don't sit like that Justin." My grandmother looks up from her plate, and eyes me disapprovingly. "You'll crease your suit before you get to school."

I've been wearing outfits like this to school my entire life. Harding is one of those pre K through 12 schools, with the required uniform. Blazer, tie, and dress pants. It's no wonder I'm never uncomfortable in clothes like this. I wonder if the kids in Hanson hate the apparel? I guess I'll find out today. I sit up quickly, so my grandmother won't be angry with me anymore. "Sorry, grandmother."

She nods. "I spoke with the principal yesterday, while you were giving that silly dog a bath. Honestly, Justin..." she sighs.

I knew she was going to be upset with me when I brought Fritz home yesterday. At first, she was going to make me chain him to the dog house outside, but then I begged her to let me give him a bath or something...anything. Damn, I was crying. I'm such a loser.

But she gave in.

"The man is a complete imbecile," she continues. "He couldn't run a school if his life depended on it. And now, you...my only grandson, will be subjected to the stupidity of the public school system. I told him that I only want the best for you. I even suggested that you be allowed to be privately tutored..."

"Grandmother," I interrupt. "I want to go to school, and be normal...like everybody else. We talked about this." I pick up my fork, and stare down at my breakfast. Belgian Waffles with powdered sugar. That was my father's favorite. I put my fork down.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asks me after a moment. "You know, breakfast is a very important meal. It gets the heart started, and the mind inspired."

I shrug. "I'm not very hungry," I say. Actually I am hungry. But...this...I can't stomach this particular breakfast selection right now. "Maybe when I get to school I'll eat."

"School?" My grandmother's eyes widen, and for a moment, it looks like they might pop out of her head. "No grandson of mine will be eating in that joke of a cafeteria. Do you know what kind of germs and pesticides are in that sort of food? Do you know how many health codes they‘ve violated?"

I shake my head.

"You will eat what's on your plate," she informs me. "I've had Selma pack your lunch today as well. And I better not find out you didn't eat what she's prepared for you. I want the bag back."

My grandmother is crazy if she thinks I would pick cafeteria gruel over Selma's roast beef grinder. She makes it exactly the way my mother used to. Rare Italian cut...light mustard with a hint of mayo...tomato...two leaves of lettuce, and provolone. That with an apple and a can of cranberry juice leaves me with the best lunch this side of Franklin. "Yes, grandmother." I reluctantly pick up my fork again, and dig into the waffles on my plate. I feel my eyes close...and then...

"Justin!"

I gasp and look up from my plate. My grandmother sounds like she's just had a heart attack. "What!"

"Don't slouch."

I groan

********

I didn't have to walk through the doors of Hanson Memorial to realize that it's a world away from Harding. It's twice the size for one. Harding was so tiny...and it was nearly impossible to get a spot on the waiting list unless your family was prominent, or you were super smart. My grandmother steps in front of me and opens the door with a disgusted grunt. She has this look on her face, like we're about to enter the most disgusting place in the world.

"I want you to act like a gentleman, Justin. I know you're perfectly capable. Set a good example for your peers. Lord knows, they could all use an influence such as yourself in a place like this."

"Yes grandmother." I follow her down the hallway, not being able to help but peer in the various classroom doorways. The teachers are all positioned in the front of the room, and the kids look like they'd rather be somewhere else. It seems like a normal school. But...

Oh my god.

I stop in my tracks in front of one of the classrooms, and take a closer look. The kids, they're all dressed differently. Nobody is wearing a suit, or a tie...or dress pants. It's all blue jeans and t-shirts and polo's. There is no dress code here. I feel my blood run cold, and I start to become short of breath. I wheeze a tiny bit, before yanking my inhaler out of my pocket and taking a hit.

"What exactly are you gawking at?"

My grandmother's voice pulls me out of my astonishment, and I look at her. "I..."

"Gawking is rude, Justin," she tells me. "I know you know better than that. Your father had common sense...and I'm sure he passed that quality onto you."

She's right. "Yes, grandmother."

"Come," she orders, turning on her heel.

I follow her. Soon we reach what I assume is the principal's office. I see the lady at the receptionist desk look away from her computer, and her eyes widen when she sees us. My grandmother straightens her top, gives me a warning look and then thrusts the door open.

The queen has arrived.

"Hazel," Grandmother nods at the woman.

"Good morning, Mrs. Timberlake." Hazel flashes her a tight smile and clears her throat a little bit. Then she looks at me. Her eyes linger on me for a moment, seemingly searching for a resemblance between myself and my grandmother. "You must be Justin," she says to me.

"Yes," Grandmother answers for me. "Where is your imbecile of a supervisor, Hazel? Call him now...and stop wasting my valuable time."

I feel bad for Hazel. She's just trying to be nice, and all my grandmother can do is treat her like a piece of garbage. I hate that. She thinks she's so above everybody because of her money and her history. I wish I had the guts to say something to her...but I don't. She's all the family I have now...and I know I need to suck it up and get along with her, no matter what the conditions are like.

Hazel dials somebody on her phone, and a moment later a man walks out of a doorway toward the back of the office. He's very tall...and very businesslike. For a moment, I see my father. He used to wear suits just like that to work all the time. I blink...is it him?

"Good morning, Gertrude," he smiles and approaches us.

"Lawrence," Grandmother nods, and shakes his hand quickly. "This is my grandson, Justin."

I shake his hand. It's big and warm...full of kindness. For the first time today I feel confident in this place. I smile. "Hello, sir."

"I took the liberty of calling Harding. They told me a lot about you son...about all of your achievements. It seems you were quite the student.

I smile again. "I..."

"He is quite the student," Grandmother interrupts. "That shouldn't come as a surprise to you Lawrence. After all...he is a Timberlake."

I want to hide someplace. Why does my grandmother always have to make a scene? God...I hope this principal guy doesn't hold the fact that my grandmother treats him this way against me. I don't need to be on bad terms with anybody right now. I'm trying to start my life over. I look at the principal again, expecting him to be giving me some kind of dirty look...but he's not. He's still smiling at me. I breath out a sigh of relief.

"Well...I guess I know what I can expect of you academically," he beams. "But what about physically? Do you play any sports? You know...we have an award winning football team here at Hanson, the Wildcats. Maybe you'd be interested in trying out...."

When I entered the ninth grade, my father persuaded me to join the lacrosse team. I was pretty reluctant to do it, because I was so focused on my academics and I didn't' want to be distracted. But like...when it came to sports, my father would always get so excited. He wanted me to do something...so he could go to work and tell everybody that his ‘boy was on the lacrosse team'. So I did it for him...and strangely enough, I ended up liking it. I got pretty good at it too. We went to the championships my second year...but we lost. It was fun though, I got a lot of my friends to take it up. At that school...everybody seemed to follow my lead. Just as I'm about to tell him that Harding didn't offer football but that I did play lacrosse for a few years, my grandmother starts to speak...again.

"He will do no such thing," she snaps. "Justin has set high academic goals for himself this year, and honestly...I'm just appalled that you would even think of such a thing. Honestly Lawrence..."

"You know Gertrude," he cuts her off. "It might be a good way for your boy to fit in around here...if he got on the team." He winks at me. I don't smile. Grandmother would only get angrier.

"That's another thing," she continues. "My grandson doesn't need any of these trashy teenagers hanging around him either. He needs to focus...he needs to work hard." She eyes me disapprovingly. "Or he'll end up in some state funded college like the rest of the ingrates that go here."

Lawrence doesn't lost his composure. It's apparent to me that he's not afraid of my grandmother like the rest of the people in this town. It's like...he understands why she's so bitter or something. I don't really understand, but I'm not about to inquire about it. It's not my business.

"I'll do my best Gertrude," Lawrence promises. He looks back at me. "Well...I guess you have a class to be getting to then, Justin?"

I nod. I'm glad he's broken the tension between himself and my grandmother. All I want to do is go to class, and try to get caught up with everything that's going on. I know I'm going to have to work hard...I can't fall behind. I have to start filling out my college applications in a few months, and I want my GPA to be at least 5.5 or higher. I think I can do it...if I put the effort in. I know I have it in me though, and I know I have to live up to my grandmother's expectations. She's the one providing a roof over my head....I owe it to her to be at the top of my game. "Yes, sir," I say.

My grandmother gives me the once over, and straightens my tie a little bit. "Have a good day," she says quickly. Then she turns on her heel again, and walks briskly out of the office. Now I'm on my own. I'm a little scared...I don't know anybody here...all I have to rely on is myself.

"It's nearly time for the bell," Lawrence speaks up. "You're going to have to see your first period teacher tomorrow...sorry about that."

"Oh, don't be. It‘s not your fault," I say. "My grandmother...she likes to make sure everything is in order."

He laughs heartily. "I think you and I are going to get along just fine. Come on...I'll show you to your second class."

I follow him out of the office, and shortly after, the bell rings. In Harding, when the bell would tone, everybody would sort of file out of the classrooms slowly...still full of chatter from the last intriguing lesson. This place though...the moment the bell starts to ring, the doors fly open and it's like...a herd of angry cattle charging through the place. Kids are jumping and shouting...running and chasing each other. Girls are squealing about...nothing really. It's so weird. I see a few of them eyeing me too...and then...they sort of point and laugh.

"Nice tie!," somebody shouts.

I feel so stupid right now

***********

We didn't have desks at Harding. We didn't use paper either. All of our work was done on laptops, and we would sit on couches...on floor cushions. It was really really laid back and comfortable. I think it's why I excelled in my academics. I was comfortable...I was well liked. Everybody was my friend there...I was the most popular guy in school. It's weird for me to think that way now, because at the time it didn't really matter. I was too happy with my life and with who I was to care about my status. Here though...it's so much different here. There are so many desks, there is barely room for anything else. And there are so many kids. At Harding there were only ten people to a class. Here...there must be twenty or so. How can anybody learn this way?

"Johnny! Johnny look at the titties on this one!"

I glance behind me and see a boy holding out a copy of Penthouse for all to see. I frown. Apparently they don't care if they learn anything or not, so long as they have their porn. Ingrates...

I almost turn back around, but pause when I see her. Damn, it's that girl. At least...I'm pretty sure it's the same girl I saw yesterday...the one with the dirt on her face. But she doesn't have dirt on her face today. She doesn't look anything like the less than fortunate soul that lives in that tiny house. She looks well groomed...rich even. She has a cheerleading outfit on. The top says WILDCATS in big blue letters. I can already tell, that uniform means a lot in this school. I'm sure she's well liked and popular. Much more than I can say for me. She meets my gaze a moment later, and I see her eyes widen a little. I wave and then she quickly looks away from me like she‘s never seen me before. I can't really be hurt about it though. After all, she basically told me that we couldn't be friends.

The teacher enters the room a few minutes later, and everybody takes their seats. And wouldn't you know it...my cheerleadin' gal is sitting right next to me. I don't' think she realized where she sat, because she looks at me again, and kind of shakes her head.

"Welcome back," the teacher says loudly. Then he scrawls his name across the blackboard. Mr. Pickerello. Mister? Weird...I've never addressed a teacher by their last name before. At Harding, we were instructed to call our teachers by their first names. It was more laid back that way. We could just talk...relate to our teachers. Here though...its definitely not like that. Man, I'm starting to miss Harding more than I thought I would. "Before I inform you about the class requirements, I would like to introduce a student new to our school." He nods at me. "Justin, why don't you come here and introduce yourself."

I hear a few snickers, and I really don't want to get up in front of everybody. But...I'm not going to chicken out. I used to make speeches in school all the time...in front of people far more important than a bunch of football obsessed porno freaks. I get out of my seat and make my way to the front of the room. I look out at the class. Half of them are asleep, and the rest well...they're getting a kick out of my outfit.

"Hey suit boy!," a perky blond cheerleader calls out. "Are you going to a wedding?"

Her comment is followed by a roar of laugher from the rest of the class. I eye the girl I met yesterday...she's laughing along with them. I roll my eyes. "My name is Justin," I tell her.

"Pshh." She rolls her eyes. "Whatever." She waves her hand at me. "Get on with whatever it is."

I look at the teacher. He doesn't really seem to care one way or the other. I know right away...this class is just going to be one boring lecture after the other. But...at least I know it's going to be easy. I'm a master at taking notes from lecture. My first A is well on the way. "I used to live in Bramlin," I say. "And I attended The Harding School."

"Did you go to any weddings then?"

More laughter follows. I realize that none of them are interested in who I am and what I've done in my lifetime. The only thing they're interested in right now, is making fun of me for their own enjoyment. "Thanks," I say quickly. Then I take my seat.

Mr. Pickerello gets up in front of the class again, and starts to go over the class itinerary. It's pretty basic, and I'm surprised because this is an AP class. He says there will be two term papers a marking period, and a homework assignment nightly. Big shocker there. Damn, I'm already bored. My attention wanders from the teacher. This has never happened before. But at Harding...my teachers didn't get up and preach to the class like this. They would sprawl out on the sofa or pull up a floor cushion and ‘discuss' the lesson with us. It was never silent like this...everybody was always participating in the lesson...using their minds. This is just dull...plain and simple.

I glance around the room a bit, trying to take everything in. The other kids are hardly paying attention to what Pickerello is saying. Some are leaning back in their chairs, some are snapping their gum. The girls are filing their nails and writing notes to each other. I can't help but look at my cheerleader again. Damn, I wish I knew her name. I bet it's a pretty one...just like her. I guess she feels me staring at her, because a moment later she looks over at me again. I try to smile at her, but she gives me this disgusted look...like I have a hell of a nerve.

I guess I'll never be good enough for her. Her name is now...the ice queen. She and my grandmother would probably get along famously.

"Mr. Timberlake."

I snap to attention and look at Mr. Pickerello again. "Yes, sir?"

"It seems your head is in the clouds this morning."

I hear the snickering again, and I start to blush. "No, sir," I say to him.

"Well," he smiles. "Would you mind telling me when the declaration of Independence was signed?"

What does this guy think...that I'm some kind of idiot? That has to be the easiest history question I've ever been asked. "It was signed on July 4, 1776."

He nods, but shoots me a disapproving look. "It won't be so easy the next time. Learn to pay attention Mr. Timberlake."

I frown. "Yes. Sorry sir."

"Actually..."

I perk up a little at the sound of her voice. She's looking at me now, and smiling a little. She has a really fantastic smile.

"It was signed on the second or third of July," she corrects me. "They had to send it up and down the coast to be reviewed and signed by other important peoples in legislature. It was officially installed on the fourth...that's why that date is so famous."

Pickerello smiles. "Very good Miss Connor. I must say, I've been looking forward to having you in my AP class this semester," he nods.

I knew that...I just didn't think anybody else would care. Damn it, now I feel foolish. I should have said something. I look at her again. She's smiling at whispering to one of her girlfriends...probably about me and how much of doofus I am. Way to fit in Justin...way to go.

************

This day has been absolute hell. After second period, I guess the word got spread around about me and my suit...because now everybody notices me. They all point and laugh. They call me ‘doofus', ‘urkel', and ‘suit boy'. I can't even count how many times I've been asked ‘when's the wedding?'. I really don't know what the big deal is. It's just a suit...it's just school. Why are they all over my case? Are they that bored...are they that immature?

After History was over, I was amazed to find that it was time for lunch. I looked at my schedule and expected to see a study hall wedged in-between my history class and lunch break, but there was none. How could they not have study hall in this school? Don't they know that I need time to sit and reminisce on what I've learned? Apparently not. Apparently they think that the students in this school don't need to study...or won't study if allowed the time. Ingrates...they're all ingrates at this sorry excuse for a high school.

Since the lunch period is forty five minutes, I decided to use part of the time to my advantage. I figured I would pay my English teacher a visit, since I'd missed her class this morning. I went in there expecting to find some middle aged woman covered in chalk dust, cursing the heavens that school was back in session. I was proved wrong however, when a young intellectual looking woman dropped her watercress sandwich and smiled at me. I introduced myself, and she seemed excited to be shaking my hand. Then she told me she'd heard a lot about me, and that she was friends with my old English teacher, Greg. It was really nice to find out that somebody in this school knows me other than suit boy. She went over the itinerary for the class with me, and it seemed a little challenging. She really knows her stuff and she doesn't' tolerate laziness. She reminds me of every Harding professor I've ever had, and that's great because now I won't have to miss them so much.

But I think that's going to be the only highlight of attending this school..

I haven't been able to warm up to any of the other kids. I tried say hi to this guy who's locker is right near mine but he just ignored me. I guess I should just be thankful that he didn't' make fun of my suit and forget it, but I can't. In my old school I had friends, and I was well liked; but here it' s like I'm this little nobody. I guess part of it has to do with being the new kid, but really...I think my suit ruined most of my chances of being accepted here. I want to blame Grandmother because she made me wear it, but I didn't protest when she made me put it on. I just didn't think. I was used to it, and it's not her fault.

I'm nauseated.

I turn into the bathroom quickly and head straight to the sink. I run the water and splash some on my face. I start to feel a little better, but then I hear more people enter the bathroom. I look up, and immediately recognize a tall muscular looking jock from my history class. He's with his two friends, and when they set eyes on me, they smile in unison. "Hey, Urkel," the jock laughs. "What're you doing in here now huh? It's lunch time...this is our spot."

His two friends start to laugh, and one of them shuts the door and locks it. I swallow hard. Are they going to beat me up? Damn, it's only my first day...it's not my fault that I wore a suit. I'm used to it. Please...don't hurt me. I feel the muscles in my chest begin to tighten. Then I cough, and start to wheeze a little. I pull out my inhaler quickly, and take a hit. I can hear them all laughing at me.

"Aw look!" one of the other boys laughs. "Little Urkie has an inhaler too!"

I shove it back inside my pocket, and shoot them all a pathetic look. "Can I go?," I whimper.

Then the jock slams me up against the wall. I try to push him away, but he's strong...a lot stronger than I am.

"I saw you lookin' at her, Urkel," he whispers. "You think you can look at my girl like that and get away with it?" He shakes me roughly by the scuff of my shirt, and I'm so scared that I drop my lunch bag on the floor.

"Oopsie," he grins. Then he steps on the bag forcefully, crushing my sandwich with his foot. Damn it...that sandwich was the one positive thing I had going for me today. It figures it would get ruined along with everything else.

"W-who is she?" I ask him.

He slaps my face a little bit. "Don't play dumb." Shoves me to the floor. "You know who she is. You wouldn't stop looking at her all period. And if you do it again...your lunch isn't the only think I'll step on, Urkel."

I wait for him to punch me...or kick me, but he never does. He just gives me another warning look and says; "Now get outta here, before I kick your ass."

I hear his friends start to laugh, and I quickly get up from the floor. I race over to the door, and try to open it...but it's still locked. They're laughing harder now. I turn the lock, and finally get the door open. Then I run out, like a little pussy. I'm safe now...but it doesn't' matter. I'm still a loser, and I'm sure it's not the last time I'm going to have an encounter with that guy.

Damn my lunch...my bag is still in the bathroom, but there is no way I'm going back in there. Grandmother is going to be so mad. Oh well...I guess I shouldn't be worrying about it. It's just a bag...she'll get over it.

I guess I'll just go buy lunch.

***********

The cafeteria food at Harding was never this bad. Sure, there were some bad days...like meatloaf Mondays. But our English professor, Greg, would always let us order pizza. He was so cool. We wouldn't even go down to the café on Mondays. We would eat pizza and have our discussion in his classroom. But the teachers in this school aren't like that. They could care less what the food is like here.

And from the smell of it...I'm sure it's pretty bad.

"Bean casserole?" The lunch lady asks me.

"Um...no thanks," I say. "Do you have any like, whole wheat sandwiches or anything like that?"

She looks at me like I have three heads. "What do you think this is kid...the Ritz Carlton Hotel?"

I hear a burst of laughter come from behind me, and I glance over my shoulder. That girl is there...then it dawns on me. That must be the girl the jock was talking about. She has to be. She was the only girl I was looking at in history. Damn, she must be dating that guy. I shudder and quickly look away from her. "I'll just take the chicken sandwich," I say, even though it probably tastes like rubber. The lady plops my request onto my tray in disgust and I make my way further down the lunch line. Hmm...they have jello...fruit cups, and cookies. I take the cookies. They are hard as a rock. At Harding, they would bake the cookies fresh in the morning, and by the time lunch hit they would be moist and chewy.

"Hey..."

She's talking to me...but I don't look at her. I'm afraid if I do, that jock guy will show up and beat the daylights out of me. I move further down the line...I take two chocolate milks, and then I pay the cashier. Good...I'm away from her. I make my way over to the condiments table and take three napkins, a fork and a knife. They are plastic utensils. I frown. We had silver at Harding. This place is like a prison.

"Hey."

She's back again. She puts her tray down next to mine and starts to fill up on ketchup and napkins. I still don't say anything to her though. I'm trying to ignore her...

"You weren't this quiet yesterday," she informs me. "How's the first day going?"

I sigh and pick up my tray. "Like you don't know, miss almighty."

She sends me a dirty look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You better watch it," I say. "Some of your friends might see you talking to me if you aren't careful."

I walk out of the kitchen and make my way to one of the tables, all the while hearing: "NICE SUIT!" and ‘HEY IT'S URKEL!'. I hate it here. I hate it. I eventually find a place to sit toward the back of the cafeteria...where there is nobody around. It's so weird, eating alone. In Harding, I always sat at the ‘popular' table. I was always surrounded by my peers, and I would always end up telling some story that would send them into hysterics. I was the life of the party then.

Now I'm just a loser.

I unwrap my chicken sandwich and scrunch up my nose at the sight of it. The bun is wrinkled...it's obviously been nuked one too many times. Grandmother would definitely not approve. I wonder if I should even eat it...but then...I don't want to be hungry for the rest of the day. With a reluctant sigh, I pick up the sandwich and take a bite. Just as I thought...rubber.

"Everybody knows you're not supposed to eat the chicken." That girl plops down in the seat adjacent from me, and I pause mid-chew. "Like...it's not really chicken. It's just like...breaded rubber. That's why the girls and I just eat fries, and hit up Mickey D's after school." She pulls her hair out of the pony tail and runs her hands through it. It falls at her shoulders and shines when the light hits it. It falls into position like magic. It's perfection.

I think she's beautiful. Yesterday...yesterday she was just pretty. But today, she looks like a totally different person. She looks like someone Michelangelo would paint. Her eyes are so deep, so intense. I think if given the chance, I could stare into them for hours and see things nobody else has ever seen before. Like miracles, and great works of art, and brilliant beautiful things. But I'll never have that chance, because I can't get that close to her. Not because she won't let me, but because I won't let myself.

"I don't eat fries," I tell her, ripping my eyes from her beautiful chocolate orbs. I hate fried foods. That stuff is bad for you...full of cholesterol and calories. I did a report on it last semester, about the effects fast food has on your body. I found out some pretty gross stuff, and after I gave my presentation, my own teacher stopped going to McDonalds.

"What do you mean?" she asks me, as she pops one into her mouth. "Everybody eats french fries, Justin."

"Not me," I say. I take another bite into the sandwich, just to spite her.

"Well you should just bring your lunch," she tells me. "You'll be better off. Tomorrow is fish stick day...gross gross."

"I had a bagged lunch," I tell her. "But, I kinda lost it."

She laughs at me. "How in the world did you lose your lunch?"

I don't meet her gaze. "When somebody took it away."

"Wait...what? Somebody stole it?"

I nod.

"Damn," she says. "Who the hell would do that? That's so...childish."

I look at her again. I don't know why I'm telling her all of this. Why would she care? She's dating the bastard. "Your boyfriend did it," I snap. I probably shouldn't have. She'll probably go and tell him and then he'll beat my ass.

She laughs a little. "Boyfriend? What boyfriend? I don't have a boyfriend."

Now I'm confused. "But he said..."

"Ricky right?" she interrupts. "From history class?"

"I guess that's his name," I nod. "How did you know?"

She rolls her eyes. "Because he's been after me since ninth grade, and he tries to act all tough in front of any guy that has a thing for me."

I bite my lip and blush a little. "Who said I have a thing for you?"

She smiles a little. "I'll see you later okay? The girls are going to be mad if I let their fries get colder." She gets up and starts away from me, but then looks back. "By the way...what's with the suit?"

I want to die. "It's the proper attire for school. I've always worn it."

She laughs. "The ‘proper attire'?" she mocks. "Man, you are such a dork."

I watch her walk away. I feel worse than I have all day. I want her to like me enough to be my friend, and...she seems to a little bit I guess. But she still thinks I'm a loser too. She'll probably go outside now, and talk about me to all her little cheerleader girlfriends. My reputation will be even deeper in the gutter by then end of the day.. and tomorrow will be even worse.