Renewal [Emmett Cullen] (1)

[05- First Day]

Mom stopped the car at the drop off zone at school, the new turning seat made it so much easier to get in and out of the car. As soon as I was in my wheelchair, I could feel the stares on me, people slowed down to take a better look at me. I felt my breathing become rapid and shallow, my pulse pounding in my temples. For once I'm thankful that I was sitting down, because between my nervous shaking and increasing heart rate, I would probably trip. I hated it. I hated feeling like I was a zoo attraction. It was like they had never seen someone in a wheelchair before. The fact that I started school in the middle of senior year, on a Thursday didn't help.

I never use to get this anxious. Even before the California state championships race, I was calm and confident and that's what probably helped me win. But now, I was helpless, subjected to the merciless stares and gossip. Confidence was something that was in short supply.

"Honey, you need to go to the front office to collect your schedule. Call me if you need anything. I have a conference call with my partners in San Francisco in 15 minutes so I can't come with you." She gave me a quick kiss on the forehead before driving away. I went to the office, the school was relatively easy to navigate. I deeply appreciated the abundance of signs that were posted on every corner of the tiny school.

The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, red-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering  the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, blonde-haired woman wearing glasses. She saw me roll in and looked up.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm Eleanor Parks," I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness  light her eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Wheelchair bound, 'moved to small town to get away' mentality. She had probably seen similar cases.

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of  documents on her desk until she found the ones she was looking for.

"I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." She went through my classes for me, highlighting the fastest route to each on the map.

My first class, English was in block 4. Thankfully it was the closest block to the office. Some people stared but most of the other kids had already gone into their classrooms. Lucky again. 

I felt my breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the classroom door.

"Relax, relax," I repeated in my mind like a mantra. It was a mental technique I learnt from my track coach. She use to tell me that running was a mental game. If you couldn't believe you could accomplish something, you would never be able to. I tried to envision my day going smoothly so hopefully it manifest in that way.

I took in a deep breath and introduced myself to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Russo. He gawked when he saw me in the chair — not an encouraging response. He then sent me to an empty, wide desk at the front without introducing me to the class. That was the only desk appropriately sized. I absently wondered if they already knew I would need the special desk and purposely kept it free.

Unfortunately, I was at the front of the class so it was easier for my new classmates to stare at me.

I kept my eyes down on the reading list he had given me: Brönte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. Yikes! I hadn't read any of them; my English class back in California just finished 1984 and The Great Gatsby. Maybe I wasn't as ahead as I thought.

Thankfully, we just started reading through Hamlet so I wouldn't get left behind. 

When the bell rang for the end of class, I reached into the bag to put back my notebook. My hands fumbled and it hit the linoleum floor. I bent down to retrieve it but it was gone.

"Excuse me, you dropped this," a voice said, grabbing my attention.