My new school is called Sullivan's Cape High. It is a fitting name, considering that this town is called Sullivan's Cape and there's only one other high school around here, located halfway into the next town. SCH is close to my house, so that is the one my parents are sending me to.
I visited once last week, when we first arrived here. The principal took me on a small tour around the vicinity. I'm not going to take the time to describe the principal, but I'll tell you a little bit about the school itself. It's a long building, mostly on one level aside from the music rooms located in the basement. I took a particular interest in the computer room, which was full of sleek new PCs. I'm more of a Mac person, but that's alright, I guess.
I do not know anyone at my new school, aside from the principal, who doesn't count anyways. At my old school in Montana, I had a few friends and avoided the vast majority of the rest of my sophomore class. I never really had anyone to call my best friend - just people who would hang out with me by default, because there was no one cooler or because they noticed my reclusiveness. Now that I think about it, I don't think they really could have been called my friends. They haven't called or e-mailed me since I left Montana.
I guess I didn't leave as much behind as I thought I did.
Tomorrow is the first day of school. I'm wearing a Homestuck shirt to attract fellow Homestucks. That's what nerds do to make friends, right? Right.
At least I have Becquerel. He will always be my friend.
Right now I am sitting on my bed. The lamp on my dresser is on, casting a soft light about the room, and the curtains are thrown open so that I can see the ocean a few streets down. Suddenly the houses end and the sand takes the place of the grass and concrete and suddenly there is water. The sky is growing darker, and the waves are so gray and still and the sky is so cloudy that when I look at the horizon, I can't tell where sea meets sky and sky meets sea.
Bec is asleep on my pillow, even though I bought a sizable L. L. Bean dog bed for him. He gets tired easily, being a plump little ball of energy as he is. He's sprawled out on the pillow, so small that he doesn't even take up the whole rectangle. I stroke his back absentmindedly with my journal propped open across my knees, and my stomach is already churning from nervousness - I don't know what school will be like tomorrow.
I guess I'll just have to wait and see.
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