1.

That's what I go to school for
Even though it is a real bore
You can call me crazy
She is so amazing,
-"What I Go To School For" by the Jonas Brothers

It's absolutely nerve-wracking. You know the way it feels when you're new in school and everybody stares at you. You can feel your heart beat incredible leaps in your chest and you wonder if you're going to die because there's absolutely no way that your head should be spinning that fast. You think your brain is going to explode with an emotional overload and it's all you can do from running away and retreating to a corner where you can pretend you're five again and making friends and impressions is easy—all you have to do is throw sand to become the class clown or share an Oreo cookie and make a new best friend.

Well it's almost impossible to make good first impressions in high school. The place is full of sharks that are ready to devour you any second and your heart feels like it will explode and your head isn't getting enough oxygen. You can't breathe and it feels like somebody's squeezing your throat and you're sucking in air from a straw. You want to scream but in order to do that you have to breathe.

You know that kid that you see the beginning of every year who tucks his hands into his pockets and slumps down and tries his hardest to be absolutely invisible? The kid that seems to find the ground absolutely fascinating and will look nowhere else?

Well I'm that kid.

I'm that kid that doesn't know how to fit in and talk to the kids sitting around me. I'm that weird kid that people stare at and then look away from. I'm that kid that nobody wants to risk associating with because I might taint reputations.

I guess that being home schooled for the last few years may have added something to my awkwardness. My mom says that home-schooled kids always turn out being the best but unless the best means a severe lack of social skills, it's an absolute lie.

I feel completely out of place standing here at my locker, staring at the kids talking among themselves and catching up; it's absolutely unbelievable. This is a fate I hope nobody will ever have to suffer. I watch the girls trade lip gloss containers and the guys give each other high fives. I watch the couples basically glue themselves together even though it's obvious they spent the entire summer together and then pull themselves apart like their pieces of taffy being ripped when they see someone else they want to talk to. I watch some girls try too hard to get attention by flaunting in front of the boys and it makes my heart hurt.

I wish girls could see that they are beautiful without lowering their standards.

No, I've never had a girlfriend.

I look away and turn to my locker instead. I grip the lock and stare at the combination that I pull out of my pocket. Come on Nick, it was your idea to start high school. I want to go to a REAL school—gees what were you thinking?

I unlock it and busy myself with putting books inside. I try to focus on the titles that say Catcher In The Rye, English I, Algebra II—instead of looking at the people in the hallway because I know they'll make me want to cry. When I'm finished I close the locker door and turn around.

I'm not surprised if people say I jumped at least five feet in the air.

Standing at the locker next to me is a girl. She was—well is—staring straight at me and she probably was while I was putting my books in. Well staring at the side of my locker. She has hazel, doe-like eyes and brown hair gathered in two braids. I look her up and down and then flush furiously.

I usually try to avoid making girls uncomfortable but I had to stare—well, I'll tell you why.

Crisscrossed over her arms are words. I think maybe a hundred of them—big and small and cursive and print—all over right on her skin. As far as I can see they're pretty much all covered except for some random patches. Words that look like they're written with those cheap click black pens or ballpoint pens you can get from Staples trail up to her short sleeves—words like love, hope and then there's sentences like "I want to be infinite." She's wearing a t-shirt that has "RETRO" stamped across it in huge letters and a pair of dark grey jeans and a pair of canvas shoes that I'm pretty sure are homemade.

She notices me staring and looks at me with her big doe eyes that make my heart hitch. She opens her mouth but it's not "Hey, I'm _____" that comes out but it's one simple four word sentence that pretty much sums up what my friendship is going to be with her.

"Do you love me?"

I stare at her, absolutely astounded. It seems like a million answers come to my mind. "Huh?" seems like the best one and my mouth flops open. I wouldn't be surprised if somebody told me I looked like a goldfish.

Other answers that rush to my head are, "What?", "Are you psycho?", "Um…".

I look at her with her writing on her arms and her hopeful doe eyes and I don't know what causes it but I manage to get control over my throat and answer with the first thing that comes to my mind.

"Yes."

She smiles then, a lopsided spiel across her face and I start to think that maybe high school won't be so bad.