Here is a scene, in a small apartment located in the bustling city of Nivile Gardens, lies asleep under the warmth of her fuzzy baby pink blanket a teenager who has no idea what awaits for today. The bed sheets are in a knot and aside from a few half hours of vivid dreams my excitement barely allowed for any sleep to kick in. As a ritual of my daily life, the time has come once more to begin to accommodate to setting an alarm the night before. Quack! Quack! Quack! Goes off the alarm. Dead asleep and immobile as a rock, I fail to hear the alarm.
Three minutes pass and my frantic mother comes screaming “Get up you’re going to be late!”. I sluggishly attempt to pull myself out of bed after two minutes of rolling endlessly; hoping and pretending this is all a dream. Heading for the bathroom, I fail to realize that today is the day. The day that I’ve dreamt about years and years on end, and now that it’s here, it feels bittersweet. As usual, my mother now is screaming with a pot and a spoon in hand- typical Cuban, as she continuously attempts to wake the other little troll of the house- one that looks like she decided to copy and paste an image of myself at birth, and call it herself.
The moment we make it past the living room and into the heavenly scented kitchen, we each slide into our chairs by the granite counter top. Suddenly confronted by an enormous platter of food. We begin to devour the warm scrambled eggs, ham, bacon, and french toast. All neatly placed alongside one another. Next, to the buffet, lie two tall glasses filled to the brim with my mom’s special - Cafe con leche. Just how we like.
As I anxiously begin to get into my uniform, on this day, I am reminded that starting today I am officially a High School student. I struggle in front of the mirror for two minutes, attempting to put my legs through my skinny jeans. All while, of course, greeting the floor. “Oh fudge noodle sticks” how am I ever going to make it past the first day? I can’t even properly get myself into my jeans. I attempt to finish getting ready all while playing “Fifteen” by Taylor Swift - a classic. Since the fifth grade, I pinky promised myself I’d play the song on my very first day of high school. After posing for approximately 20 pictures for my mother’s facebook page. We are finally headed out.
The sunrise fills the sky with a beautiful orange and dark purple hues.The dashboard reads 6:45 AM, and I am praying to the heavens above to please make the car ride a little bit longer. I’m an emotional turmoil. I don’t know if to feel excited, frightened or worse nervous.As I look to my left, from the passenger seat, I notice my sister and I aren’t the only ones nervous. My mom’s usually smiling and full of joy, is a canvas of anxiety, for she is clearly feeling concerned for our first day. Reminding us to be sure to stay out of trouble, and make the best decisions we can, she is preparing to send off her children to their first day of freshmen year for the last time. Rosary in hand, and my sister in my other, I have finally gathered the courage to face the world. Just as I fumble to gather all my belongings from the car, my mother spills the tea. She finally admits that she is beyond nervous for us, being a little extra descriptive, in announcing that she too- has stomach pains.
Hand in hand with the little troll, we slowly make our way past the main entrance and into the swamp, I like to call Senior High. As I walk the halls plastered with work of students I don’t recognize, all I can think about is what am I doing here.Staring at the ground I walk through the hall. The hallways seem busier than they did in middle school, the students seem less friendly, the teachers didn't seem to care that most of us seemed to not know our way around. I finally get to class, after pretending to look at the time on my phone- but really I’m looking at my class schedule that I have set up as my lock screen- trying to play it cool. Nobody wants to be that freshmen running around frantically with a white sheet in hand, lost like beef in Cuba, as my mother would say. Just when I finally begin to feel comfortable, I am confronted by a slim petite figure.
"Hi, do you know where Mr.Gonzalez's Chemistry class is?" says the wide-eyed child.
"No, sorry." I simply respond.
"Oh, I'm so sorry to bother you. I figured you'd know. You seem like a sophomore."
"No problem at all, sorry I couldn't be of much help. I'm just as lost as you, I am too a freshman." I replied feeling a little more confident now.
Wow, someone had actually mistaken me for a sophomore. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all. Seems as though, I was playing it off very cool may I add. Once in class, I proceed to sit down in the uncomfortable plastic chair. Just as I sit, I hear through the P.A. System, a booming voice saying “Welcome class of 2019 to Senior High”. And just like that, I am in high school.