I hate this feeling; the first day of high school and I am struggling to find a seat. These dreaded lunch room walls lined with old, moldy Got Milk posters and the stench of school ground beef, which is always mistaken for stewed onions, stung my nose. Spaghetti lathered in hot, gooey, American cheese with smelly ground beef is the first meal of the school year; mmm, smells like teen spirit already. Being a freshman is a big deal that places a lot of stress on me because I am new to this school and none of my friends are with me. I decided to go to a different school than them because I wanted a different high school experience with “new people.” The silly, naïve eighth grader, who was trying to be rebellious, is failing to live up to her word as we speak.
What is more nerve racking is looking all of these other cliques who are sitting with their friends happily chatting. I am pretty certain that they are reminiscing about their exciting summers and how they swam so much and got blazing tans. Bragging about their instantaneous summer flings and how many cookouts they attended as well. Several of them are rejoicing with their friends who they haven’t seen all summer and the fact that they have missed them “so much.” I hate to admit this, but I am jealous. I wish I could be one of those students, sitting with friends and familiar faces, happily joking around and telling them about my boring summer. I wouldn't have much to say, like always, but it would feel nice to belong to a table and not stand up here in front of the whole lunch room staring at all of the tables like a vulture deciding where to land. This is ridiculous; I cannot stand up here all day, people will start to question my sanity.
There are no empty tables, so sitting by myself is not an option. I hate how lunch rooms are set up with their four seated tables. It is as if, they are forcing you to sit and socialize with people; curse you school lunchroom madness. Then again, maybe this is my anti-sociability coming back to bite me.
Maybe, I could sit with those girls over there, they look familiar. We had homeroom together in eight grade, but we rarely spoke to each other. Those girls probably do not even know I exist; what's the point of even sitting there. The downfall of having your own small circle of friends is the fact that, once they are gone, you are left alone and shaken. Luckily, my overly baggy khakis played in my favor because they hid my trembling legs.
Oh! I see a table that only has one girl sitting there. Maybe she would not mind me spending lunch with her today. For all I know, she might be in the same awkward situation as me and decided to sit by herself. Then again, what if she sat at an empty table to hold three other chairs for her best friends. What if I walked over there and ask to sit down, but she politely asks me to move? Then I would be left to stand there and find a seat while others notice my uncomfortableness. I must not hyperventilate. I'm just finding a table to sit at for lunch.
Thank the heavens, there is one table with a familiar face, Riane. In seventh grade, I used to talk with her, and we were, what I would consider, friends too. In eighth grade, I did not see her as often, but I did see her over to summer for this drawing class and we talked then as well. Maybe, just maybe, Riane would not mind me sitting with her and her other two friends for lunch.
This lunch lady is glaring at me, probably wondering why I am taking so long to enter my lunch number. As I enter these four digits, it feels as if I am signing off my pride, hoping not to be let down by Riane and this free seat. Just anything to take away this horrid emotional trauma I am facing at this moment would be great. So now, I hold my breath, as I take my chances to walk over and ask Riane if I can sit with her for lunch.