Jordan and Maggie took care of the details regarding getting my records transferred to Thornwood High School, which was my new school. Going to a new school as a new kid is never easy. In my case, going to two new schools in such a short time was even more difficult. I didn’t know anyone—well, I knew Mike, but he was a jackass. I didn’t know exactly where my classes were, and I didn’t know which teachers would be mean and difficult, so on my first day I was very nervous. I was worried about the way I looked and how people would perceive me. I was worried about my new haircut because I knew girls talked about other girls with short hair. I was paranoid that someone would say something mean about my pimples, which actually were looking a lot better since Grandmother Katie had shown me how to use Proactive Solution. But still I had some concerns about self-image.
Thornwood High was within walking distance of the house. I thought for sure Mike would at least walk with me, but he had football practice at 6:00 a.m. on my first day. As I approached the school, I saw kids hanging out in the school parking lot. Kids were pulling up in Mustangs and BMWs, which was unheard of at my other schools. I looked over at a group of girls who were standing next to a silver Mercedes. I listened as they sang the lyrics to a Missy Elliott Song.
“Why don’t you just take a picture, it lasts longer,” said one girl who noticed me studying them. It was clear that I’d annoyed her. I walked away quickly before I ended up getting into an altercation on my first day. I walked through a set of large brown doors and searched for a sign that would point me in the direction of my guidance counselor’s office. I had to stop and meet my guidance counselor, some dude named Mr. Sanders, to pick up my class schedule. I didn’t see any signs so I asked a guy who was passing by.
“Excuse me, can you tell me where the guidance counselor’s office is?”
“Go all the way down the hall and make a left,” he said and continued on his way. I followed his directions and a short time later entered the guidance counselor’s office.
“Excuse me,” I said to the receptionist. “I’m here to see Mr. Sanders.”
“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m a new student. He’s expecting me.”
“Name,” she said without looking at me.
“Keysha Wiley, I mean, it’s Keysha Kendall now.”
“Oh, yes. We’ve heard about you.” I quickly caught an attitude.
“What have you heard?” I asked. She didn’t answer, only looked at me as if I’d offended her.
“Are you Keysha?” A very tall Caucasian man with a round belly and thick glasses appeared from one of the offices.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Well, come on in,” he said with a pleasant voice. I entered his office and sat down. He shut the door and took a seat behind his desk, which was very junky. There were papers piled up everywhere.
“You’ll have to excuse my desk. My student assistant is out with the flu,” he said as he searched through the mountain of papers and folders on his desk.
“Here we go,” he said once he found my file. He leaned back in his chair and studied it for a moment before speaking.
“The scores that have come in from your other schools aren’t very impressive, that is with the exception of your literature grade. You did well in that subject.” I wanted to explain the reason I did so poorly was because my mother never prepared me for school and how I was expected to become pregnant and bring a welfare check into the house, but I didn’t think he would care to hear my drama.
“We’re going to monitor your progress and see how well you perform academically. This is a tough school, Keysha, and the teachers here expect nothing but the best.” He glanced up at me. I didn’t know what to say. School for me was just a place I could go to get away from my mother. I hadn’t paid attention to my grades since middle school. After I saw that my mother couldn’t care less, I stopped putting forth an effort. Mr. Sanders exhaled loudly.
“Here is your schedule.” He handed me a sheet of paper and began to explain it to me.
“Your math scores are very low so we’ve placed you in a remedial class.” I cringed when I heard that. “Now this doesn’t mean you have to stay there. If you can prove yourself, we’ll move up to a basic math class, and if you do well there, you can move on to a class that’s at the correct level. Math is the first class that you have. Second period you’re in a basic science class because your other school didn’t offer a science program. Third period you have gym, fourth period you have study hall, then lunch, social studies and finally literature. Is that okay?”
“Do I have a choice?” I asked.
“No, you don’t,” he answered me honestly. “But I’ll tell you the same thing I tell all of my other students. School is what you make of it. If you don’t put forth an effort, you’re going to get poor results. You’re responsible for the decisions you make regarding your education.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Come on, I’ll show you where your locker is and then walk you to your first class so that you don’t get a tardy slip.”
* * *
When I walked into my math class, everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at me. Mr. Sanders spoke with the teacher briefly, and then I was instructed to sit next to this chick who was wearing all black. I mean, she was the strangest-looking white girl that I’d ever seen. Her hair was raven black, her eye shadow was black, her lipstick was black and her fingernail polish was black. She had multiple piercings in both ears, her bottom lip was pierced and all of her earrings were black. The girl looked like the daughter of Morticia from The Addams Family, but she was nowhere near as sexy or as cool as the character Morticia. I cautiously sat next to her because I didn’t know if she was diseased or something. Shortly after Mr. Sanders left, the teacher gave me a math book and opened it up to the section we were going over. She told me to follow along, so I took out my math notebook and a pencil. The class was studying basic addition and subtraction.
“Hey, girl,” whispered the chick wearing all black. I nervously glanced over at her. She stuck out her tongue and flicked it back and forth against her lips, making an odd noise. Her tongue was pierced, as well. This chick is crazy as hell, I thought to myself. I looked at her clothing more closely. She had on a black top, with black jeans and black combat boots. At that moment, I told myself that my problems weren’t so bad.
“This class totally sucks,” she whispered but I didn’t respond. “I know you can hear me,” she said but I continued to ignore her.
“Ahhh, you’re a new chick,” she said. “I’m going to have to break you in, girl.” I was horrified at the thought of exactly what she meant by that.
The bell rang and I pulled out my course schedule to see what room my science class was in.
“Let me see your schedule,” asked the girl. I hesitated.
“Come on, let me see the damn thing. I’m not going to eat it.” I was still hesitant.
“Look, you’re new, right?”
“Yes,” I said.
“That means you don’t have a frigging clue as to where you’re going. Let me see your schedule and I’ll tell you which way to go.” I handed it over to her. She began to bob her head up and down.
“Oh, cool. We have the next four classes together.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked.
“Nope. Looks like that jackass Mr. Sanders thought you were going to be a problem child so he stuck you in all of the classes with problem kids.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“Because only the problem kids get low test scores and end up in a classroom full of rejects. Like you and me.” I looked at her like she was crazy.
“I’m Liz.” She stuck out her hand for me to shake it. It was the first time I’d noticed that all of her fingers had black rings on them.
“I’m Keysha,” I said as I shook her hand.
“Come on, stick with me. I’ll make sure you get to your classes.” We walked out of the room and into an overcrowded hallway filled with students. As we made our way through the crowd I heard other students boldly degrading Liz.
“Aaaaaa—It’s God-Lizard,” said some basketball jock.
“Aaaaa—It’s Hillbilly Bob from Hillbilly Heaven,” Liz quickly fired back.
“It’s the Lizard Wizard,” said another student.
“Ooh, it’s Loser Lou,” Liz said as she gave him the middle finger.
It was strange watching how Liz maneuvered through that crowded hallway and through all of the teasing and wisecracks. I felt bad for her and began to think that she was misunderstood, just like me.
* * *
We entered the science room and I followed her to the back table and sat next to her on one of the stools. We were the first students in the class.
“Look, I need a lab partner, so what do you say? You and I can be partners.” I was hesitant at first because I wasn’t sure that I even wanted to be around her.
“Look, you’re new. No one is going to pick you and since I don’t have a partner, the brilliant science teacher is going to pair us up anyway. So let’s just cut the middleman and be partners.”
“What’s up, Lazy Liz?” said some guy who had just walked in.
“Bite me! Groovy Grover,” Liz shot back.
“Groovy Grover?” I laughed out loud.
“Yeah, that’s Garret Groover. He’s a complete idiot. Don’t pay him any attention.”
“Girl, I’m not trying to get any of your fleas,” said Grover. Liz gave him the middle finger and stuck her tongue out at him.
“Look, just sit someplace else. If you don’t want to be my partner then I don’t care. Just go and sit someplace else and leave me alone,” said Liz.
“No,” I said. “I’ll be your partner.” I felt sorry for her.
“Cool, we can both flunk the class together.” She laughed and so did I.