A Beautiful Torment

1. First Day

1. First Day

The entire gym was alive  with the hum of excitement and nerves. Two hundred freshmen were  crammed onto the bleachers in front of two haggard looking men and a  tall, fresh-faced looking woman with a clipboard in her hand and a  bright smile on her face. Her nametag said she was Sara, our new  guidance counsellor.

"Finally," Rachael grinned, "we get to put our sex education into practice."

I rolled my eyes. My  best friend, Rachael Hareton, had been waiting for this day since the  beginning of middle school. She felt personally betrayed by the  education system here in Maycrest simply because they forced us to play  nice with members of the opposite sex in elementary school when we were  more interested in playing dress-up than kissing boys. Then, when our  hormones finally kicked in, they chucked us in a building where  boys and girls were divided by a chain-link fence which, for all  intents and purposes, might as well have been the Berlin Wall. They  called that period of social exclusion "middle school". Today, in  Rachael's eyes, felt like a personal apology. We'd finally made it to  high school.

"And look at the  selection we've got to practice on," Lauren Mortensen joked as she  pretended to fan herself. "This is going to be a fun four years, girls." 

By some unspoken  agreement, all of the boys had graduated to the left of the gym while  the girls sat on the right, giggling and laughing amongst themselves. It  was like the Berlin Wall still existed in our minds. Until we were  fully introduced to this new, interesting world, we were still poised on  two sides of a coin.

However unintentional,  the divide provided the perfect opportunity to spy on our new  classmates, and both sides were taking full advantage.

I swept a curious glance  over the boys' side, but none of them stood out dramatically. I could  pick out a few future football captains, a handful of band geeks and the  occasional metal head, but none of them screamed future boyfriend  material. I understood what Lauren meant, though; there were more than a few majorly cute guys.

"Hey, Vicky, isn't that  your twin over there?" Rachael pointed at a tall, scrawny individual  sitting in the middle of a group of boys, his brown hair slicked back  with gel. He looked up, catching Rachael's stare, and nodded his head as  if to say, "'Sup?"

Vicky Sinclair, the girl  sitting directly in front of us, swivelled around and glared at  Rachael. "Thanks, Hareton. It wasn't like I was planning to deny all  claims that we share the same DNA or anything."

I giggled. "You guys are identical. I'm pretty sure someone would have figured it out eventually, Vic."

"Not for a while," she moaned.

"He's hot," Lauren mused. "In a dorky sorta way."

Vicky gagged. "Ew. Brothers are so off limits."

"Yeah," Rachael agreed,  even though her brother, Peter, was in college and the likelihood of him  having anything to do with a bunch of fourteen year olds was slim to  none. "It's not like there isn't a hundred other boys to choose from."

"All right, kids, listen  up!" The hum of conversation and laughter slowly died as students  turned to focus on the small, red-faced man in a tracksuit as he stepped  forward, a whistle poised between his lips. "I'm Mr. Roland, but all  you hooligans can go ahead and call me Coach."

A few boys chuckled at the word "hooligan" but otherwise, his words were met with silence.

"I'm going to be your  Head of Year for the next forty weeks," he continued. "Anytime you lot  step out of line, you're going to answer to me." He glared for effect,  and, for a rule-abiding girl like me, his words were exactly what I  needed to hear to instil a little bit of fear. "Now. After Principal  Keller, here, gives his introductory speech, Sara is going to divide you  into six different base classes. You'll meet for homeroom every  morning, and study hall and gym every evening."