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Chapter 1: Welcome to William Wirt Junior High

Just breathe.

Just breathe.

Just breathe.

"O.K., you guys. This is Jesse Wheeler. He's one of the transfer students from Thomas Johnson. I trust you'll all be cordial our new friend here, and show him what a nice place William Wirt can be." She turns around a little and looks at me, where I'm standing behind her. "Would you like to say a little bit about yourself, Jesse?"

They're all staring and I don't know what to say. Two dozen cold faces spread across the room, just waiting for me to offer something of myself. I've never liked talking in front of the class, I mean, not even at my old school. And this? Well, this is so much worse than that.

Because they're not like me, now are they?

I squeeze my lips shut and shake my head. I figure the less I say, the less they'll have to say back. She looks at me a moment more, then shrugs, pointing to a seat in the front row.

I'm staring at my feet as I move to sit, but it's hard not to notice as the girl with shiny black loafers sitting behind me scoots her chair back a little. Like she was scared of me or something. There are more sounds of movement as I settle into the uncomfortable wooden seat. All moving away.

They must think I'm going to bite them or smell funny or something. I wonder, briefly, how the other people from Thomas Johnson are doing. Is it the same for them? Walking off the bus, we got nothing but stares from the others entering the building. I split off from my neighborhood friends to come find this, my homeroom, and somehow I figure that they're probably sitting alone now, too.

It's very lonely, my place here. I stare at my schedule, a blue slip of paper shaking in my hands. I don't know these teachers, and I have no idea where any of these rooms are. Everything here is bright and new, but that doesn't really make it better. Suddenly, I'm missing home and my old school an awful lot.

I can't say I really understand why I'm even here. It's really not fair, the county deciding halfway through the school year that now, right now, is when the colors in the schools ought to be mixed up. We'd been hearing a lot about it in the fall and when the school board finally decided to go ahead and start this all, there were protests and sit ins and stuff. Even one on Super Bowl Sunday that I heard about. Parents didn't like us changing schools any more than we did, I guess.

My Mom, however, seemed to like the idea of me coming here. She says it'll be good for me, coming to the white school. She thinks that I'll do better this way, but these kids don't seem any smarter than me.

Then again, I haven't heard anyone speak a word since I walked into the room, so I really don't know.

It's cold outside, it's January, and I'm not looking forward to waiting for the bus this afternoon. It takes twenty minutes longer to get home from here than it did before. Not to mention the fact that my stop is a few blocks farther away from home than my old one. It'll be dark by the time I even end up back in the neighborhood.

Man, this is the pits. I'm trying to get through this by hoping that all I have to do is make it through the day and maybe I can talk to Mom and Dad about it tonight. I'm sure there's a way I could go back. What will one kid matter? Let someone else do this. I don't want to.

Glancing at my schedule I see that I've got History next, which is good, I guess, because at least I like reading about old stuff like that. The only problem is that I don't know where Room 114 is and I sure as heck don't know the teacher, Mr. Stevens. This wouldn't be so bad if somebody would just say something. They're all talking so low behind me, throwing sidelong glances in the corner of my eyes.

I try to distract myself by thinking about my World History class from last quarter.

No teacher could beat Mr. Ericson for worst at his job. He smelled like mothballs and fell asleep during class, along with most everybody else. Me and my friend Trevor would play tic tac toe on most days and learn the material on our own. I wonder how his first day back at Thomas Johnson is going…

This isn't working! I just know I'm going to get lost if I don't ask someone where Room 114 is. Being late on the first day of class isn't exactly my idea of a great first impression.

Someone in here has got to know. Only, they all looked at me like some kind of experiment gone wrong and, well, I guess I sorta am. My eyes drift up from the schedule, and I begin to look around for someone who looks nice or, at the very least, will look at me.

They're all talking and playing behind me. I don't want to interrupt. They'd probably just ignore me, anyway.

I sit for a minute before I notice a boy sitting next to me, just reading. He's the only one who hasn't scooted his desk away from mine and, well that seems nice enough. I tap on his shoulder and he looks up quickly. "Yeah?"

"Well, I was, uh-" I shake the paper with my classes on it a little bit and try to speak again, feeling more awkward than I really should. "Do you know where-" I point to the line with my next class on it, figuring that it'd be easier to show than tell.

He snatches the paper from me, and wrinkles his brow a bit. "Oh, wow." My heart catches and I expect him to point out something really wrong with my classes or something equally as horrible on my first day. But, now he's smiling and things are looking up. "Looks like we have Earth Science together this afternoon." He sticks a hand out. "I'm Nick, by the way."

I shake it, feeling better about this already. He starts to speak again making gestures while he gives me the directions. "The room is… well, you're going to want to go upstairs, because we're in the basement. Then it's down the hall where the gym is, on the right side. You won't have trouble finding it, I don't think."

"Good." I say, taking the time to actually look at what he's reading. The title is really familiar to me because it's one of my favorites. "Return of the King? I really like that book."

Nick grins again and says, "I didn't think too many people read Tolkien. He's a great author-" His mouth is open to finish that sentence, but the bell rings instead and all of a sudden, homeroom is over. "I'll see you in class?" We get up at the same time, but he moves faster and ends up ahead of me. Nick is out the door when I take another look at my schedule and follow everyone else into the crowded hallway

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