First Day, Freshman Year

First Day, Freshman Year

Catherine Acevedo

The First Day of Freshman Year

It is an early seven forty-five in the morning, the rickety bell ringing throughout every classroom and hallway in the school. I am standing there right before the art hallway with my tall and ambitious friend Eileen. That day we both arrived early yet were met with the fate of the daring hallways that would essentially begin our high school careers. Earlier that morning I decided that I would throw on my freshly ironed cotton polo. The emblem of our new mascot, the falcon, perfectly stitched onto the upper left-hand side of my shirt. Along with my buttoned shirt, my khaki-fitted pants were steamed.

I styled my hair half up and down for the first impression of my peers and teachers. Alongside my uniform, I accessorized with my classic gold necklace that laid just above the second button on my collar. It has a cross and a small gold/white heart that was gifted to me when I was a child. I hold this piece of jewelry close to me. The cross had originally been my grandmother’s that was eventually passed down to my mother than to me. On my hands, I kept it simple with two rings, one on each hand. I have my graduation ring on my right hand, the stone is the color of my birthstone which was sheer, looking almost diamond-like but most likely just a piece of refined glass or Cubic zirconia. The ring is engraved with my initials, “CCA”, while the other ring has five hearts back to back. Even though I know it is not common, I did decide to mix and match shades, both rings were silvers. A fashion faux pa but to me, it made sense, in my head they did not clash having them be so far apart from themselves.

Not even half a foot away, Eileen was wearing her shirt which is pressed to precision, the red complemented the scrunchie in her hair. Today her style of choice was a slicked-back ponytail with no flyways to be seen. She had a darker wash of khaki on, pairing it with checkered vans freshly off the rack. Our backpacks followed the same rhythm while our feet traced the shiny sleek tile beneath us. I pull out my water and can taste the minty toothpaste running throughout the back of my throat.

The windows on every door with the black curtain are folded. The rooms smell like sharpened pencils, air fresheners, and summer dissolving. We were holding our sharply folded schedules in our hands, so nervous, they were swaying at a frantic pace. The more nervous I am, the more my feet touch the ground at a faster pace. The clacks of our shoes hitting the food sound like an echo with the stampede of older kids. Some friendly, some already struck with senioritis carrying themselves with barely any pride.

At this moment I know Eileen and I are thinking the same thing. We both feel like fish out of water even though it couldn’t be any more cliché. My entire childhood I had thought about how life would be when I would be in high school, I could not feel any younger than my surroundings. The upperclassmen definitely are towering over us.  The air feels cloudy by hundreds of kids talking and directions. 

All of us are in the same apparel but some already have falcon appeal which consists of hoodies with our signature falcon. At that moment, I feel as if they are giants and that I could never reach that age.  I watched my siblings attend the same school where my feet were planted yet the feeling of being alone could not be more present. Looking up to the others around us, to only think some were only a year or two older than us. I began looking around at the thick black plaques that possessed the door frames. I finally realized that our class was indeed not in this hallway. Quickly running down the first staircase we find, we begin following the crowd continuously looking at the number on the plaques outside each room.

Finally, we look at the number to discover it is our room and we see our teacher, Ms. Hughes. She is a tall blonde woman. Her personality brightens the room while Eileen and I stand in line. Here is now where our memories would begin and continue to flourish.