Reinventing the Heartbeat

Gage ;;

It’s one thing to start at a new school in the middle of the year. It’s another to start at a new school in the middle of the year half way across the country from your old school with a haunting past such as my own.

Most kids wouldn’t be excited for something like this.

I was no different. In fact, I was dreading the start of school.

No one knew me. I didn’t know anybody. I wasn’t sure what to expect. How to act. What to wear. Whether to wait until lunch or the end of first period to call my dad and have him pick me up because I ‘didn’t feel good.’ If I was positive of anything, it was that I wouldn’t be able to make it through the whole day.

I suppose, there was a plus to being the new kid. And, as I just said, that is, no one knows who you are. They could never guess by looking at me that I was probably one of the nicest, most sincere guys you would ever meet. Because people judge you. They think that by simply looking at your appearance, they can just assume what you’re like or who you really are.

So my plan was to just let them judge me. They could make their own assumptions. Whatever. I know who I am. And it wasn’t like I had anyone to impress… It would be far too early for me to even think about something like that.

With this last thought crossing my mind, I stuffed my ATM board and extra binder into the locker I’d just gotten the combination of and would be using for the rest of the year, ignoring the interested eyes to the best of my ability. It was actually fairly easy for me, which was surprising. But I’m sure the voice of Shane Told blasting through the little speakers in my ears was partially responsible for that. Listening to my favorite bands could help me through anything - and you best believe they had. When people say ‘Music is my life’, I can guarantee more than half of them don’t mean it as literally as myself.

The halls of the large, open school grew more and more crowded and busy as the minutes to the start of first period ticked away. I found an abandoned wooden bench, fit circularly around a small, dying magnolia tree, to sit at and do some more thinking while listening to my tunes until the bell rang.

I was in no rush to get to class. My feet slugged across the concrete pathways of the large campus, going at one of the slowest rates I think I’d ever walked at. Kids whizzed right by me, not wanting to be late.

Finally finding my first class on the copious campus, I stood outside for a few seconds, debating whether I should just go in or turn around, ditch, and start the next day.

Sighing, I pushed open the door to my History class, almost immediately having a paper airplane fly into my face. The room was full of buzzing conversations and other obnoxious sounds when I entered, but it soon turned into a dozen intrigued voices. Who is this new kid in my class? Why haven’t I seen him before?

Uhm…because I’m new. That is why you’ve never seen me…

I swear. People should really think before they speak.

Ignoring the odd stares I was receiving from the nearly full class, I strolled to the large desk in a back corner of the room. I glanced around the place I’d be spending most of my mornings in from now on, trying not to meet any of the curious eyes. The carpet my feet came in contact with was old and worn, with random patches of darker stains scattered throughout. Posters, windows, a whiteboard, and cabinets covered the walls of the oversized classroom.

As I stood in front of the teacher’s desk, I stared blankly at the plump, middle aged woman sat behind it, typing away on her laptop, completely oblivious to my presence. A pair of thick rimmed glasses sat snugly atop her round nose, framing a pair of tiny, bead-like eyes - quite possibly the only thing small about this woman. After a few more seconds of waiting, I cleared my throat politely. Her head immediately popped up - followed by her double chin - and a warm smile stretched across her lips.

“Ah, you must be Mr. Bracey,” she said in her gentle voice, her smile remaining as I nodded sheepishly. “Welcome, welcome.” She clapped her hands together cheerfully, frightening me a bit with her too-upbeat-for-eight-o’clock-in-the-morning attitude. “I’m Mrs. Valenti and this is, obviously, my history class. Please, take any available seat you can find.”

Wow. If this lady remains this happy for the rest of the year, I think I might just have to shoot myself.

Attempting a friendly smile, I nodded my head once, turned on my heel, and searched for an empty desk. I spotted one right next to the door; a quick escape if ever necessary.

‘That’ll work,’ I thought to myself, making my way in that general direction.

I dropped my backpack onto the desk and sat down, awaiting the start of class. Not even a minute later, a loud voice greeted my ears, and I was almost positive it was directed towards me.

“Hey, bro. What tha hell you doin’ in my seat, man?”

‘Oh, great. I’ve already managed to upset one of the gangsters. This is not going to end well.’

Slowly turning my neck to face the door, I finally came eye to eye with the kid whose desk I was apparently sitting in. It was quite shocking to me at first. Judging by his remark and how he said it, I would have figured he’d be a gangster, or at least a wangsta. But what I found was the exact opposite. A light mop of hair framed his circular face, which appeared not much younger than myself. Tight jeans clung to his thin legs with a Blaqk Audio shirt covering his upper body. He must have stood just a few inches shorter than me in his Etnies, and a friendly smile graced his lips.

Probably noticing my confused expression, the boy chuckled and patted my back as if we were two friends joking around rather than two strangers. I didn’t like it much; the whole ‘touching’ thing.

“It’s cool, man. I’m just giving you crap. The name’s Caleb. You new?”

I let out a sigh of relief and nodded my head. “Gage,” I replied.

“Well where are you from?” he asked, not bothering to hide the genuine curiosity ringing clearly in his voice.

“N-New York,” I stuttered, watching his eyebrows raise in amazement.

As he took the seat beside mine, I became aware of the other students watching us, listening to our conversation while still trying to make it seem like they were having their own.

“Damn. That’s pretty far away from here, huh?” he realized aloud.

I laughed lightly and nodded my head in agreement.

“What brings you to L.A. then?” he asked me.

I choked on a few of my responses as he stared at me, waiting for my answer. But the truth was, I hadn’t thought of what I was going to say had someone asked me that. I just wanted to suppress that reason all together - to never have to think of it again. But things didn’t happen like that. I would remember. Forever.

“I, uhm, my dad - my parents just got divorced,” I lied, most likely, unconvincingly to him.

His face became sympathetic as he pulled a binder out from his backpack.

“Awe, I’m sorry, man. That sucks,” he replied halfheartedly.

The late bell rang, thankfully, just after those words left his mouth, saving me from having to continue with this discussion. It wasn’t something I really felt like talking about at the moment - or ever, for that matter - and especially not with someone I knew nothing about.

“Alright, class,” Mrs. Valenti said over the rest of the voices, almost immediately silencing them. “Why don’t you continue working on your assessment for World War II while I start the movie? And remember, these are due at the beginning of class tomorrow. I think there may also be a few presentations coming up, am I right?” Some kids grumbled in response, making her smile knowingly before turning to me. “Caleb, why don’t you take Mr. Bracey to the book room and help him check out a U.S. History book?”

Caleb willingly jumped to his feet and practically pulled me out of the classroom and to the book room.

He was quite an unusual character, I’d come to realize by the end of first period. Not that unusual was a bad thing - I just wasn’t used to his sort of behavior with someone I’ve just met. Usually, people didn’t open up and get so comfortable with me until they’d actually gotten to know me. Or maybe I just wasn’t very people-person-y anymore.

On the outside, he appeared to be a normal, music-obsessed kid that seemed pretty chill. But inside he was a total maniac; always cracking jokes at the most random times in crazy voices and trying to be ‘gangstuh.’ It was certainly entertaining, to say the least.

“What do you have now?” he readjusted the straps of his backpack as he asked me during the passing period between first and second period.

I tried to recall what my schedule said without having to actually take it out. Maybe if Caleb was in my class I wouldn’t have to bother calling my dad, because I’d be somewhat comfortable with a familiar face in that class. But I doubted that. Amid one of our conversations in history, which mainly consisted of him talking and me listening, he’d told me that he was a junior, where as I was a senior.

“Uhm…Busch?” It finally came to mind when I remembered what a terrible last name my second period teacher had.

Most likely thinking the same thing I was, Caleb laughed and pointed to a row of buildings to our left.

“’The Busch’ is that way. Room Six I wanna say…” he told me. “I’ve gotta go this way now, but you’ll probably see my sister there,” he winked, which I simply shook my head at.

Juniors. Boy can they be childish and immature at times.

“Just watch out for the babe with purple hair.” Another sly wink. “She’s mine,” he said with a false…pirate voice? What the hell was this kid on?

Purple… which one was that again? Hmm… Guess we’d find out.

“See ya,” he waved to me, walking away.

Fighting the urge to pull my phone out, I continued walking in the direction Caleb had pointed in, this time by myself.