Time to go forward

It was finally Monday, even if I was a little apprehensive about this new stage in my life.

I think of my past, of the fact that since I started going to school as far back as I can remember, the first days of school—back to school—or the rest of the school year has never been what I would call incredible.

While others reunited after a long vacation, others, if they were new people, went to make friends. And, of course, there was me.

I didn't go to others. I was too shy or fearful because of my situation, or to whom no one came because I was too weird, so of course the first days of class were all alike in my eyes, and in the end, I got used to it -- or not.

I'm apprehensive because I'm going to arrive when everyone is already settled. I would have to present it in front of people who will certainly be waiting for me to do it. I would have to suffer the embarrassment of "Oh, she's silent," and if I still suffered the "it's a monster," all these ideas have been bothering me since the day before, and I would be lying if I said that I slept a wink all night.

I thought I was used to it all; I thought those emotions of fear and dread of a new beginning had become monotonous, but I was wrong. I'm still so scared, and I think I'll feel them all my life.

But I decided to change; this time I will make sure to be a little stronger; I don't pretend to want to force friendships, but unlike in the past, I will try to leave this part of my life optional—making friends, boys, and girls—and hoping they won't call me stupid, retarded, or worse, a monster.

I know it won't be easy, but I can do it; I have the skills and the strength.

My new high school, they told me, is elitist, not because only the rich can go there; otherwise, I wouldn't be there, but because the majority of the children of the city's rich go there, that is to say the level. No, it is because of the level of education; unlike my old high school, where everyone mixed from the dullest to the most intelligent, only those who have excellent grades can go. Even if I confess to you, I think that there will also be dunces—dunces, of course, but rich dunces.

As in all high schools, I imagine many types of caste people were created naturally or by force. There are the popular ones who consider themselves the best in the world. Then there are normal people, who just live their lives and get along with everyone. The nerds are sitting in the library, preparing for the next test. And finally, of course, the strangers who stay on the rooftop break or cross the schoolyard alone. Yeah, everyone knows them, but no one wants to notice them because they're unpopular and just... outsiders. But I know perfectly well that I am part of an uncategorized group in this societal organization -- or not -- and that I am an outcast, a victim of all the others, the one who makes foreigners feel a little better and the one that the popular use to "lead by example". This morning I had trouble waking up because of my nervousness, and it was my perky sister who came to wake me up before I got late. It would be very badly seen that for the first day, I arrive late. I could see that despite her excitement, my sister was also dreading this new experience as much as I was, whereas to gray her hair for nothing, it was better to be optimistic and focus only on the positive aspects. Everything would be fine, and I would finally live like a teenager my age. While my sister is going to prepare my lunch, I am going to wash up quickly before returning as soon as time allows. I hear my sister screaming in the kitchen that I have to hurry as I open my closet and look for my new uniform—a white shirt with a green checkered skirt—which is rather academic as a uniform; it looks rather chic unlike my old one in high school where we went there with our clothes, each one being able to show his degree of wealth, and I had about an acceptable level with Jeanne paying a third of her salary to buy me clothes and shoes. At least that way, I'm going to spare her that trouble. I enter the bathroom again and look at my reflection in the mirror. Just as concerned about making a good impression as the day before... I think that even if I can't speak with my voice, I can at least do so by showing them my dignified appearance. I hope it's not like my old school... I sigh, moving the curtains to see my old comrades pass with joy; they always did; they had no problem going to high school; no one blamed them for existing. After spending all the time I need in the shower and even more, I go into the living room because my sister shouts my name.

"Emma, breakfast is ready!"

I leave the bathroom, but I don't go directly to the living room; no, I go quickly to my room to get my school bag, and I check it again to reassure myself that I haven't forgotten a document or even my pen—the shame it would make me find myself begging for a pen from my neighbor, who didn't even understand a single sign of my language when I asked him to lend me his. No, this day has to be perfect. I go out reassured that I have taken everything, and I find my sister standing in front of the table. She has put on a rather fancy dress, so I imagine that not only did she wake up very early to get ready and make me this breakfast, but she will also drive me to high school.

I need it. I don't think I can have enough strength to go alone, especially since I will have to find out about my class, and I don't want to go through the box of sign language -- not for the moment anyway.

My sister smiles happily at me as I sit down at the table to eat her pancakes.

"How are you, dear?"

I look up from my plate and see the worried look on my sister's face. I give her a reassuring smile. I don't have to worry about him.

**You worry too much. I'm fine.**

" Truly? I'm happy."

She sighs in relief.

"Oh Emma, you have to go to school now, and you're already so late. Luckily, I planned it and made you a snack to take away. Come on, I'll take you there."

she said, looking at her watch.

**Okay**

I get up from my chair, but contrary to what my sister claimed, she does not move, so I look at her intrigued.

Her face is tense, and her eyebrows furrow in concern.

"Are you sure, honey?" I mean, you will tell me if you have a problem, right?

I sigh.

I'm sure, and if I have a problem, I'll tell you about it.

"Very well. Oh, it's cold outside; you should put on your scarf.

My sister wraps me in an olive-green scarf and takes my hand to lead me out of the house.

She wants to get my bag back, but I hold it back. She's doing too much; it's up to me to carry it.

We leave the house, my sister hails a taxi, and we enter.

The way to school is silent, and it's just the noise of the FM from the driver's dashboard, which broadcasts a nice melody to us, maybe to calm my nervousness, but it doesn't succeed.

I feel my sister's hand on mine; she must have felt that I was tense, and finally I feel calmer and lighter.

We finally arrive in front of the school gates, and I can see many students entering in a disciplined manner. There's no shouting or insults, so I think I'll enjoy it. It should be fine, I think.