Chapter 5
New Beginnings
CHARLOTTE
Monday mornings were the worst. With my parents already off to work, I took my sweet time getting ready. I was a bundle of nerves about starting school. Even the thought of going back to my old school would have had me on edge, but this was a whole new level of anxiety. I was stepping into the unknown, surrounded by strangers.
My stomach churned with worry, making the thought of breakfast unbearable.
Years back, my dad had explained that I suffered from social anxiety disorder. This was the culprit behind my crippling shyness and panic attacks when I was thrust into unfamiliar situations or around new people.
He’d suggested I see a psychiatrist, but the mere thought sent me spiraling into a panic attack. After that, he’d prescribed medication to help manage my anxiety.
I wasn’t entirely convinced the medication was doing much, but at least I hadn’t had any fainting spells since starting it. So, I guessed that was a win.
I approached my closet to pick out an outfit for the day, but the sight of the new clothes my mom had chosen for me sent me into another wave of panic. Gone were my usual baggy, oversized clothes in which I could hide.
Instead, I was faced with clothes designed to draw attention.
I felt a pang of frustration. It was as if my mom didn’t know me at all.
But deep down, I knew she was just trying to help me fit in. With a sigh, I grabbed a pair of dark skinny jeans and a fitted, light-green shirt adorned
with Chinese characters. I had no idea what they meant, but the shirt was the least flashy of the bunch. I decided to wear my hair down today, hoping I could use it to hide my face since I couldn’t hide my body.
Once I was dressed, I headed downstairs to grab a bottle of water, hoping it would help settle my stomach.
Jupiter
First day of school, how ya doin man?
Mars
Honestly, I’m torn between throwing up, passing out, or hiding in my room forever
Jupiter
That sucks. Maybe this school will be better, and you’ll make some friends
Mars
You sound like my parents. Hard to make friends when you can’t even talk to them
Jupiter
Sorry man, at least you always have me
Mars
You’re starting to sound more like a lover than a friend
Jupiter
Dang! You know what I meant
Mars
Yeah, I know. I just like teasing you. But seriously, thanks
Jupiter
If anyone messes with you, I’ll come beat them up
Mars
Like I’d ever tell you where I live…you might come and steal my innocence
Jupiter
Ugh, why do I even bother…I’m heading to class. I’ll try to text at lunch
Mars
Can’t wait. Bye secret lover
Jupiter
Dude…
Mars Hahahahaha
Jup was so easy to tease, but sometimes I couldn’t help but wonder if we would make a good couple—you know, if he knew I was a girl. I wasn’t a fan of his player ways, but he’d told me he was looking for something deeper now. We were incredibly compatible. We knew pretty much everything about each other, although some of the stuff I knew was way beyond simple dating-stage information. Boys overshared sometimes.
But it was pointless to wonder; long-distance relationships never worked.
Plus, maybe he’d be mad if he found out I was a girl after all this time.
Plus, maybe he wouldn’t like the way I looked or the way I acted in real life. It was easy to be supportive online, but would he really want to be around someone who got called a freak at school on a regular basis?
Plus, maybe there wouldn’t be any chemistry. Maybe I’d find him boring if I came face-to-face with him.
After the tournament, at least I’d know that much.
Enough daydreaming. It was time to face the dreaded new school.
Great, now I was feeling nauseous again. Jup had done a great job of distracting me for a few minutes.
With that thought, I headed outside to the rental car. Thankfully, it was just a basic car, nothing flashy. The last thing I needed was more attention.
After a ten-minute drive, I pulled into the school parking lot. I quickly got out and made my way toward the front doors to find the office, praying no one would approach me. I did catch a few people looking at me, but thankfully no one tried to strike up a conversation. Miracles did happen.
The office was easy to find, just past the entrance to the building. I hurried inside and approached the front desk.
“Good morning, sweetie. How can I help you?” the clerk asked kindly.
Oh no, I have to respond. I can’t be rude. But what do I say? I don’t want to sound weird, but I have to say something. I could feel my face heating up. I quickly looked down and handed her a piece of paper with my transfer information on it.
“Oh! You’re Charlotte Jones. Welcome to our school; we hope you’ll enjoy it here. Your parents informed us about your condition, so all of your
teachers have been instructed not to require you to speak in class. You will, however, still have to do any board work. Is that okay?” she asked.
I looked up at her through my lashes and gave a slight nod. I was relieved to hear I wouldn’t have to speak in class. That should make things a bit easier.
“All right, sweetie, here is your class schedule and locker information.
The students here are very helpful, but I understand it might be hard for you to ask them for anything. Remember, you can always come back here if you need anything.”
Unable to speak, I gave her a timid smile before leaving the office. I hated that I couldn’t talk to people. It was like in real life my mic was always muted. But I didn’t want people to think I was rude. Why couldn’t I just be normal? Being shy just amplified my anxiety.
After leaving the office, I checked my schedule and headed to my locker. My first class was AP English, so I stowed the rest of my books and followed the map to my English class. I handed the teacher a paper from the office to sign, and he directed me to a desk in the back left corner of the room.
I could tell I was going to like this teacher. The back corner was perfect.
No one could look at me, and I could focus on the class. Plus, I genuinely enjoyed English class. I loved reading literary classics. Modern writers were good, but nothing could compare to the classics.
“Good morning, class. We have a new student today; her name is Charlotte Jones, and she just moved to town. I expect everyone to make her feel welcome,” he announced to the class.
Great, just what I needed. Everyone instantly turned to stare at me.
Please let a hole open up and swallow me.
“All right, if everyone could pull out their copy of Wuthering Heights, we’ll continue our discussion on Brontë’s depiction of class from a female perspective. As you know, this is a common topic on many past AP exams, so it’s important that we all fully understand the tone she sets regarding society.”
I had read Wuthering Heights a few times, and we had already finished this unit at my old school, so this was going to be an easy one for me.
I sat back and listened to the discussion, noting that our homework assignment was to write a one-thousand-word paper analyzing the tone around Heathcliff’s feelings toward Cathy. That was a pretty broad topic,
considering his feelings were so intense and fluctuated throughout the book.
But I was confident I could meet the word count.
At the end of the discussion, he gave us a few minutes of free time to brainstorm ideas for our essays.
“Hi, I’m Tracy,” a pretty blonde girl with blue eyes sitting next to me said. She had the look of a spunky, popular cheerleader.
Oh, she’s talking to me. I need to respond. But what do I say? She’s going to think I’m a freak and hate me. I can’t handle being teased at this school too. Maybe I should just ignore her. Maybe if I look away, she’ll leave me alone. But that’s not realistic. What do I do?
I could feel my cheeks heating up and the anxiety building. I can’t handle this. Everything started to spin.
“Oh, you must be shy. That’s okay, you don’t have to talk. We can still be friends if that’s okay with you. My brother always tells me I talk enough for two people anyway,” she said with a giggle.
I turned to look at her, stunned. She wanted to be my friend, even if I didn’t talk to her?
Knowing that she wasn’t waiting for a reply, I felt less panicky, and the spinning slowed down. Not sure how to react, I gave her a shy smile and looked back down.
“Charlotte is a cool name. I like it. Can I see your schedule? Maybe we have other classes together, especially if you take any other AP classes,” she said.
She really did talk enough for two people, but that worked for me.
Maybe I could have a friend in real life. I timidly handed her my schedule, without fully looking up at her.
“Oh wow! We have all the same classes. You must be super smart. I’m really excited to have a friend in my classes. We can walk together!” she gushed.
Someone as bubbly as she was probably had lots of friends. I wondered why she would want to associate with me. Where were her other friends, anyway? Not that I could ever ask her that. Maybe she liked to take on pity cases or projects and saw me as that?
The bell rang, signaling the end of English.
“Come on, let’s head to our lockers to get our books for AP Calculus.
We’re currently learning about the applications for derivatives. I’m not sure
where your old school was at, but if you have any questions, I can help,” she told me, linking her arm with mine and pulling me out of the classroom.
As we made our way to our lockers, I noticed quite a few more people staring at me, or at the bubbly girl pulling me—I wasn’t sure which.
“Hey, Trace, baby, what’s up?” a tall, muscular guy asked as he approached us, blocking our way.
“Sean, you know it’s not happening, and I’m pretty sure my brother told you to stay away from me, so get out of our way,” Tracy replied.
“You’re no fun. What about your new friend here? Is she interested?” he asked, turning toward me. His gaze made my skin crawl.
“No, she’s not. Go away,” Tracy replied.
“Don’t be like that, baby,” Sean said.
“Sean, you had your chance, and you blew it. Stay away or I’m going to get TJ,” she told him sternly.
“Fine, I’m going,” Sean said, walking away.
“Sorry about him. We used to date until he cheated on me. My brother, TJ, threatened him and told him to stay away from me, but he hasn’t really gotten the hint. He’s a complete jerk,” Tracy told me.
I felt a pang of sympathy for Tracy. I couldn’t imagine how it felt to be cheated on.
“Don’t worry, I’m over it,” she said, as if I had spoken some words of support out loud. I raised my eyebrows in surprise.
“You may not talk, but you are very expressive. I could read your face,”
Tracy said with a laugh.
I smiled back. Maybe communication isn’t all about words.
