Queen of the Headphone Zombies

Tangent

EMERSON

Teenage Lobotomy // Ramones

I park my BMW in what seems to be a safe spot. Of course, my asshole dad shelled out enough dough to buy his mini-me a European import. Stupid waste of money. I drive it out of necessity since it's the only option I have, but I'd prefer something else, anything else, actually. I'd consider taking the bus, but no way the old man would tolerate that.

Looking around at the other cars in the student lot, the desire for that something-else-to-drive has never been so strong. The car next to mine couldn't have cost more then a few thousand dollars. My shiny Beemer cost ten times that, used. If it was used, but my dad doesn't pay for 'other people's leftovers' so of course mine is brand spanking new. It's a consolation prize for not getting me into the rich kid academy. There are a few other high-end vehicles in the lot, all parked together in a covered section. This tells me a lot about the school I'm about to enter.

There's no place more judgmental than high school, and I'm about to get judged, given the once over by the highly critical eye of the high school masses, either for what I have or what I don't. It won't matter who I am. All that matters in this micro-society is what I look like, what I wear, what I drive, and my family's fucking zip code.

Public school or prep school make no difference, the judgment is still strong in both. At the prep school, it was about name-dropping. Everyone was already a rich prick, but only those with connections made it to the top of the chain. I refused to play that game, even though my dad had the connections, so I was somewhere in the middle, even though I would have rather been ignored or forgotten.

I wonder where I'll end up in this shit-hole. Not even ten steps into the place and I'm already getting looks as I walk through the hallway to the office. Conversations stop as I walk past, eyes following my every move.

'Who's the new guy?' is running through everyone's mind. Too bad none of them will ever really know.

The first day is a late start day, which means there's plenty of time for the masses to loiter in all areas of the school. They stand around pretending to talk, but really what they're doing is sizing each other up, making alliances to survive the year-long sentence in teenage hell

I shake my head wondering how I got to be such a negative asshole. Then I remember my zip code, and the ass that's raised me.

I reach the office and a very nice receptionist prints my schedule and gives me some directions to find my first class. My thoughts are proof that I can be positive if I want to be. It is possible. Maybe this school will be different. Maybe it won't suck as bad as I expect it too.

But my negative thoughts make a raging comeback as I walk out the doors into the back quad and take in the surroundings. This is what I expected-groups of kids sit in packs all around the school, and it's clear how everyone is segregated by association not by choice.

On the steps as I pass are the brains. Who else would be wearing mostly polo shirts in muted blues and kaki with their heads stuck in textbooks...on the first freaking day of school?

The sidewalk out front is skater central as they race each other, performing stunts designed for brain damage on what my mother would call "four wheel death traps."

Everywhere I look there are clichés of students huddled together. Groups of students held hostage with their peers. Held hostage by their insecurities and their peer's expectations.

Fuck, this might actually be worse than the rich kid academy.

"You okay, handsome? You look a little green there, and green does not go with that sweater." The perky sound of a female pairs with the slight hand touching my shoulder. I turn and look down, way down, to see a bright-eyed blonde with equally bright red doc martins staring at me. She looks genuinely concerned.