“Mollie!” I hear my mom yell out my name from downstairs. “You’re gonna be late for your first day!”
“Coming!” I said, putting the last elastic in my thick, curly hair. I should’ve listened to my mom when she said to wash it last night, but I was too lazy to get out of bed and do it. Who the hell am I impressing in that lame ass school anyway?
I walked downstairs and see my mom and Alex sitting in the kitchen, unreasonably close to one another. It was clear as day that he was feeding my mother in a romantic way, and possibly stopped once they realized I was still in the house. Their love gives me the ick, and seeing them in love like made me feel sad that I haven’t had that experience yet. Even I felt that what Milo and Sophie had was true love, but I guess our generation is just fucked.
“You’re ready for junior year?” my mom asked, getting up from her seat to hand me my lunch for the day. I sighed, shrugging my shoulders.
“Just another day of school I wish I didn’t have,” I said, straightening the straps of my bookbag.
“Junior year is a big year,” Alex commented. “It’s the year that colleges look at the most, then you can slack off senior year.”
“Alex,” my mom scolded him. “What he means is that if you’re looking to get into Juilliard, you have to make sure both your grades and craft are good.”
“I know,” I said dismissively, texting Milo on my phone.
“And you’re going to have to decide which craft you’d like to study in college–” Ugh. The amount of times I’ve had this conversation with my mom about this.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, looking up and walking towards the front door. “Milo’s here; I’ll see you later!”
…
The last time Milo and I walked to Waverly together, it was freshman year. It feels weird that after all this time, we are back to the place where we started off; just two friends going to school, unknowingly walking into another year of this shitshow.
“I’m already thinking about the pizza I’m getting after school today,” I said, looking into my lunch bag to see my mom’s gourmet lunch. I hand it over to Milo, knowing he’ll eat it without any issue.
“I don’t know why you dislike your mom’s lunches,” Milo wondered. “I could eat your mom’s food all day.”
“Sometimes you just want a simple slice of pizza, and not a whole 5-star meal for lunch,” I said, rolling my eyes. The thing about my mom was that she always had a ton of things on her mind, on top of the fact that her daughter nearly stayed home for the entirety of the summer after her break-up. She always believed the way to cure a broken heart was food; I found my outlet at the studio, dancing when no one was around.
“Well keep pretending to eat them so that your mom keeps making them,” Milo said. I smiled at him, not realizing how much I missed mornings like this. We got closer to the school, seeing all the familiar faces that we left just 2 months ago. Almost all of them.
We walked to the schoolyard, looking to see who was actually hanging out there before the school bell rang to start the day. In the crowd of people, I notice someone I wasn’t actually looking for; I see Sophie. I didn’t have any beef with Sophie, as I truly did believe that she and Milo actually did love each other. I understand what it was like to want different things than what you settled for. I understand wanting to be your own person, outside of the person that made you feel the most “whole”. I turned around to look at Milo, and unfortunately notices Sophie too.
“Come on, Mi,” I gently said, walking in the opposite direction from where Sophie was. He follows me in the crowd of other classmates until I hear a girl’s voice call out my name. I turned around, seeing Ronnie wave her hand in the air. Milo and I walk towards her, grateful that someone was here to distract us from the bad memories of Waverly.
Ronnie hugged me tightly, which made me feel much better about the day already. Ronnie made sure to keep me company as much as possible over the summer when Aaron and I broke up. It was a nice distraction, going to the pool and the beach most of the summer and having well-needed girl talks.
“I know I just saw you the other day, but it feels so good to see you in school!” Ronnie said as she let me go from the hug. She looks at Milo and gives him a pound. “Hi, Milo.”
“Dude it’s okay,” I reassured Ronnie, knowing where her mind was at. “Milo and I are friends again.”
“Good,” Ronnie said as she pointed at Milo. “You hurt our best friend again, I hurt you; got it?”
“Got it,” Milo answered nervously. I laughed, shaking my head. It wasn’t long after that Davy and Jonah found us, greeting us once they got closer.
“Hey, peeps!” Davy said, hi-fiving the gang. “The gang is back together again!”
“Dude, you act like we all didn’t hang out over the summer,” Jonah mentioned. It was true though; the five of us would hang out over the summer all day until our curfews. I didn’t realize just how cool the guys were; Davy was this skinny white boy that acts like he grew up in one of the hoods in Brooklyn, and Jonah was my cousin from my mom’s side so he’s always been around; it just so happened that Jonah was more Milo and Davy’s friend, whereas Ronnie was mine. Now, I guess you can say we’re “a gang”.
“And have the same major class together,” I added. “So unfair that all of you are in band.”
“Yeah, but you’re the best vocalist in our grade,” Milo added. “I think that out beats all of us.” I smile at Milo,, appreciating his reassurance in this moment. He knows just how hard I’ve been on myself since the break-up. Yes, I was the vocalist in Aaron’s band, but the band’s manager felt like I didn’t fit the image he had for them. it made me wonder just how good of a vocalist I truly was if I wasn’t considered to open for an upcoming band in the industry.
Before I could say anything, the bell finally ran, which means it was time to officially start the “second-to-last” first day of school. At this point, I was a pro at first days at Waverly: go to your classes, introduce yourself and what major you are, listen to the teacher as they spoke about what the class was about, and then do it all over again until it was 8th period.
Or at least, that’s what most first days at Waverly were like.
…
The late bell rings, and in true Mollie fashion, I run down the hall to make it to my fourth period class. Whoever decided to make my third period and fourth period class across the school have a vendetta against me or something.
Before I see the teacher close the door to begin class, I made it, holding the door open so that I can enter it. I knew exactly who this teacher was, and I was sick to my stomach to have him as my U.S. History teacher.
“Ms. Castro,” Mr. Abrams said. “I should’ve expected to see you running to my class, as you’ve always chose running as your way to get to them on time.” I smiled, feeling a little embarrassed to have my teacher on the first day know me for being late to classes. “Take a seat.”
I walked into the classroom and noticed a lot of familiar faces from our grade. I immediately noticed Sophie of all people, sitting near the front of the class. I looked away noticing an empty seat in the middle. I sit down and take my notebook out; not to actually write in it, but to just look like I’m paying attention. Again, mastering the art of first days.
“Good morning, everyone; I’m Mr. Abrams, your U.S. History teacher for the year.” He started to write his name on the board and handed out the syllabus for the class. “This year we will be prepping you all for the U.S History regents, as they are crucial to determine where you’ll be placed by the time you go to college.” Blah, blah, blah. “Of course, we will formally introduce ourselves, as we will be actively working in groups for various projects this school year.” He walk towards the left side of the room, beginning to have everyone stand up and introduce themselves. I couldn’t help but notice how many of the students in this class are dance majors. I wonder if this was the only class available for them to take; maybe their major class falls in the same period as the other U.S. History class.
As one student sat down, another one stood up; this time, I was Sophie. “Uhm, Hi. My name is Sophie, and I am a band major.”
“Nice to meet you, Sophie. What are some of your favorite things to do?” Mr. Abrams asked. Sophie looked uncomfortable, as if she didn’t know how to answer his question. She doesn’t know how to answer his question.
“I’m… really passionate about music,” she says shyly. “I spend most of my time practicing my violin, preparing pieces for programs and auditions.” Mr. Abrams nodded his head and prompted Sophie to sit down.
“You sir,” he began to say. “I don’t believe I know you from the hallway. Are you new to Waverly?” I turned my head and looked at the kid Mr. Abrams was talking about. He had dirty blonde hair with a slight wave to it; parted to the side so it looked unkempt. Definitely a new kid. The guy stands up from his seat and clears his throat.
“My name is Weston, I’m a junior, and I’m, uh, a vocal major,” he started to say. “This is my first year at Waverly High.” He looked shy, nodding his head as he finished his introduction.
“Where’d you come from?” Mr. Abrams asked.
“Oh; uhm, I lived in San Francisco.” the guy answered. Mr. Abrams nodded his head.
“Nice to meet you, Weston,” Mr. Abrams said. A couple of more students introduce themselves after the new kid, and it was now finally my turn. Mr. Abrams looked at me, nearly laughing before he spoke.
“Hi, I’m Mollie. I’m a junior and in the vocal program.”
“Nice to meet you, Mollie. What’s one interesting fact you’d like for us to know about you?” Mr. Abrams asked.
“I don’t know…” I said, trying to come up with something. “I like to sing, I guess.”
“Good enough,” Mr. Abrams said, moving onto the next student.
…
“I just don’t get it,” I started to complain to Milo as we walked to the pizza parlor. “Your dad is crazy already giving us music to rehearse.”
“You’ve said this every first day of school, Mol,” Milo mentioned.
“Well, he needs to realize that no one is coming to school on the first day to learn new music,” I complained. “Anyway, you wanna know who’s in my U.S. History class?” Milo looked at me, already knowing who I was going to say.
“Yeah? Was she with her new guy friend, Allen?” Milo spat out. Allen was one of Milo’s band mates; specifically in the same section as Sophie. Milo had an issue with Sophie spending most of her free time this past summer hanging out with the other members of the Juilliard Prospective Students program. One of them, was Allen. Milo doesn’t like to admit it, but one of the reasons why they broke up was because Milo didn’t trust Sophie being with Allen.
“He wasn’t there,” I began to say, looking over at Milo. “But Sophie was in my class.”
“Good for her,” Milo shrugged, dismissing the subject. I looked over at Milo, trying to get him to talk more about it. He was usually an open book, but when it came to talking about Sophie, he was quite secretive. I wonder how much does that have to do with the fact that they both kept their relationship on the low.
We finally got to the pizza parlor and see Ronnie, Davy and Jonah were already at the booth. We slid into the booth and joined them for our usual after school pizza visit.
“Hello, dude and dudette,” Davy greeted us. “It’s about time you guys got here.”
“You don’t have the pleasure to have Mr. Kamalani as your teacher for 8th period,” I looked over at Milo, who rolls his eyes as his response. “Did you guys order yet?”
“Davy insisted we get the pie,” Jonah said. Davy shrugs his shoulders.
“Lunch was disgusting today,” Davy replied. “Pizza is the only remedy.” Jonah sighed, moving on from the subject.
“How was vocal?” Ronnie asked me. “Any cute boys in your class?” I gave Ronnie a look that only she knows the meaning behind. Ronnie has been on my case about checking out boys, especially after having a complete breakdown at her house one night over the summer. She swears that Aaron wasn’t the one, but something tells me as my girl best friend, she’s suppose to say that.
“Same boys as last year, Ron,” I deadpanned.
“How about you, Milo? Any new cute girls in our band class you’re interested in knowing?” Davy teased.
“Davy,” Ronnie intervened. “Chill out.”
“Thank you,” Milo said to Ronnie.
“Oh, but you’re asking me about cute boys?!” I said to Ronnie, crossing my arms along my chest.
“Maybe I’m asking for myself,” Ronnie teased. I know she wasn’t asking for herself.
…
Milo and I walked down my block, tired from the long day we had at school. Milo was quiet for most of the afternoon, which bothered me. I didn’t know how to talk to him about the breakup; we were both on different stages of them. I was past the initial grief, meaning I wasn’t crying as much as I did over the summer. Milo on the other hand seemed to still be caught up in thinking about Sophie, and being in the same major as her probably didn’t make things better.
“Hey, Milo?” I turned my head to him. He looked back at me.
“Yeah?”
“Is the reason you don’t want to talk about Sophie is because you don’t want me talking about Aaron?” He scrunched his eyebrows. Fuck, maybe I should’ve worded it better.
“I don’t want to talk about Sophie because there’s nothing to talk about,” he emphasized.
“She’s in your band class,” I mentioned. “And the guy that she’s been hanging out with–“
“Look, Mol; I don’t care if you want to vent about your ex-boyfriend with me. That’s what friends do for each other. But I’m telling you that I don’t want you to console me about my breakup with Sophie.”
After that day, I don’t mention Sophie ever again, in hopes that maybe one day, he’ll talk about it.
Letters From Liz. 