Man of My Dreams by Faith Andrews

Author:Faith Andrews [Andrews, Faith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00FA2H7LI
Publisher: Faith Andrews
Published: 2013-09-16T23:00:00+00:00

I’d gone over this day in my head so many times. There is no way it will possibly live up to my larger-than-life expectations. These four years are supposed to be the culmination of every teenager’s existence. The people who roam these halls with me every day will have a kind of ingrained power over me. Sure, I’m my own person, but the things they think about me, the things they say about me, those are the things that I will end up being judged on. Will I be popular? Will I have as many friends as I did in junior high? No matter how hard I try not to be terrified about it, I can’t help but obsess over my first day of high school.

I’d obsessed over everything leading up to today. My outfit, for example. I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying too hard, but I feel the need to be accepted, while maintaining a sense of self. On our trip to the mall for school clothes my mother scolded me when I asked her if she thought a particular shirt was ‘cool enough.’

“Cool enough for who? Don’t ever worry about what other people think of you, Mia. I’ve always loved your independent spirit. You don’t need a clique of girls or some cute boy to make you feel accepted or to stunt your self-esteem. Just be you and everyone will love you. Trust me on this one.”

Without sounding stuck-up, I knew she was right, even if she was biased. I’d never had a problem making or keeping friends. Grace is a prime example of that. I can’t get rid of her even if I tried. And I can’t even fathom not having her in my life. But this is the first time in my nine year academic career that I won’t have her as a sidekick; I’ll be introduced to new faces I hadn’t known in grammar and middle school. Wesmont mixes kids from our town and the next town over, kids I didn’t know—kids who might find a reason not to like me no matter how sweet and congenial I come across.

I hold the printed program card that was mailed to me last week close to my chest. I’d memorized it, but I find comfort in gripping on to it for dear life. And I’m not the only one. The tight fisted pink slip of paper is what tells us freshmen apart from the upper classmen. We look like lost sheep being herded into our homeroom classes.

I walk into Mr. Singer’s classroom and observe the rest of the sheep. Some look terrified, some cocky, some completely indifferent. I’d like to feel that way—indifferent to this whole first day of the rest of my life, but I’m too excited not to care.

I recognize a few familiar faces from junior high, Lisa Cohen and John Pinetti. When their wandering eyes catch mine they motion for me to sit in the empty desk behind them. I walk over, happy not to have to go through all of these emotions alone.

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