Lots of Love, Spencer

Chapter Two

Trust be when I say, if you're shy, there's nothing worse than walking into a room late. I'm a big sweaty heap and the whole class turns and stare at me like meerkats.

"Sorry I'm late," I choked out to the form tutor.

He greeted me with a warm smile. "It's okay, lots of people get lost on their first day," he gestured to a seat. I slumped down in it and kicked my bag under the desk; avoiding eye contact with the people opposite.

"As I was saying, I'm Mr Mires and I will be your form tutor for the next two years." He looked directly at the students in the front row. "You're lucky I'm so damn awesome."

The circle laughed self consciously, and I finally looked up to watch the people around us. As I thought, they all picked out their looks to show their this-is-me fashion and trying way to hard. For example, the boy across from me had blue hair and was wearing a black band tee, and the girl beside him had her hair up in pig tails and was wearing a long sleeved pink shirt under a pinafore paired with yellow tights.

Not that I could judge. I'd spent ages last night obsessing over which knit sweater and which jeans to wear, they were the only thing I owned. I settled with my white turtleneck with blue and black striped across.

"Even if you went to war, you'd go to it in sneakers," Jessa's voice rings mockingly in my ears. Great. My own brain hates me.

The door bursts open and a person stands in the freshhold, with short red-dyed hair and an oversized hoodie. "Is this SP267?" Wow. Impressive, they don't even flinch when everyone's eyes land on them.

"It is, indeed," Mr Mires smiled. "Sit down, sit down,"

They walk over to me and it down in the seat beside me in their own time.

"Hi," they whispered to me, just like that. "I'm Jayce. They/them pronouns, please."

"Hi," I smiled back. "Spencer. She/her."

Mr Mires made us wait five minutes for the last people who didn't show up. He proceeded to welcome us to sixth form and how it was different to our high schools. We were able to wear our own clothes, for start. We wouldn't get detentions but we'd get kicked out of our courses if we missed too many lessons. Today, however, was just an introductory.

"Now, you're organised into forms based on your chosen subjects. All of you guys've chosen performing arts in some way, so that's why you've got me as a tutor." Mr Mires stood up and did jazz hands. "That's why I expect you to all sign up to the talent show." He twirled and then sat back down, slapping his hands back on his lap. "Right. Let's get to know each other."

The following hour was hell. You know what - I'm probably going in light. Mr Mires made us all stand up and freakin' sing three facts about ourselves. I squirmed in my chair, rash growing as j realised no one else here seemed that embarrassed. I think I'm the only performer in the history of ever to have anxiety.

"I'm Simon," sang the boy with blue hair. "I love musicals, drumming and piano."

"Hi Simon," we were all forced to sing back.

Jayce rolled their eyes, and stood up. "I don't do music. I'm not singing,"

"As you wish," Mr Mires sang.

Jayce smiled and gave a short wave. "I'm Jayce. I'm non-binary," - That got them a few odd looks, but their voice was quiet and self-assured. "I like drama, and, get this," they paused for dramatic effect. "I don't like musicals."

There were a few dramatic gasps but Mr Mires seemed unbothered by their criticism. "Can't believe someone in my class doesn't like musicals," he mumbled. "No matter, next!"

Then it was my go. "Hello, my name is Spencer," my voice cracked but I ignored it and continued. "I just moved here from Sheffield, playing piano and sleeping," the last note went higher than my usual vocal range but no one seemed to care. I earned a few chuckles but mostly dazed smiles of people not really listening.

Mr Mires grinned as I sat down. "You have a lovely seeing voice, Spencer." I smiled sheepishly, and then everyone turned to stare at me. Even though it was a nice compliment, I hated the attention, and I sank further into my chair and hid behind my auburn hair.

We were then given bingo cards with writing on them, such as 'favourite colour is pink' and 'comes from a different place'- and had to find people with these traits.

I considered dropping out of college then, as I stood in the corner with my bingo cards and my armpits sweating, but Jayce had me covered.

"Can you pretend you like pink for me?" They asked.

I turned and smiled goofily at them. "I mean, it's always been my favourite colour."

"Great, wow, what a coincidence." They ticked that down on their sheet. "Do you have any pets?"

I nodded. "Yep, a dragon."

"Me too!"

Both of our smiles grew bigger, but we were interrupted by Simon yelling "BINGO!". We all started clapping and he did a false Oscar acceptance speech and everything.

Mr Mires dismissed us and everyone walked out of the door, chatting like they were friends already.

I dawdled in the class, fiddling with the strap of my bag. Jayce was fiddling with there's too, and I hoped we could talk more.

They zipped up their bag and raised their eyebrow. "So, we survived. How'd you feel?"

"Like I may need therapy for the rest of my life."

They laughed. "What have you got next?" We fell out of the door, pushing past people to get out of the stuffy corridor.

I looked hopeful. "English lit?"

They groaned. "Ugh, I got English language. We might have been in the same class." They peered at my schedule. "We're headed to the same block though, wanna walk together?"

"Sure," I was on cloud nine.

"Oh, and some of my friends and I are eating lunch at Bangle's Cafe. Do you wanna join?"

I could have hugged them. Because if it were up to me I would never have mentioned talking again though I was desperate to. I bleated out a yes.

I asked them where Bangels was, and Jayce smiled. "It's adorable that you don't know your way around this tiny town. Anyway," they took off their sunglasses and waved. "See you at lunch."

"Bye," I said, and watched their red hair get lost in a corridor of swarming students. "Thank you," I said quietly, almost to myself.