High School-Personal Narrative

I gaze into the mirror and try to flatten my frizzy blob of long curls. I give a sigh of frustration realizing my hair isn’t going to do what I want it to. A car horn blares outside and I know it’s time to leave. The atmosphere of the room tenses. My living room no longer feeling warm and inviting. I grab my plain black backpack up off the couch and walk outside. The cool September morning air rushes across my face and I breathe it in deep. Today will be a long day and this is my last moment to have some peace and quiet. I turn the key in the lock and jog towards the oversized blue suburban with my friend giving me a ride to school. Today is the first day of high school. The car ride was full of chatter, showing off new outfits, and nervous shivers about finally being a high schooler. The

We walk directly into senior hall and I can name every single person in there. About ninety-nine percent of the students here went to the same elementary/middle school. I have known these people since second grade. That doesn’t ease my feeling of being lost and alone. Cream colored lockers line the halls, students filling them with their new belongings. My friend and I try as quickly as possible to make our way down to freshman hall, all the way at the other end of the building. Along the way I recognize people by their messy hair, perfect makeup, pretty faces, or the same glasses since seventh grade. The stuffy feeling that was in the car seemed to have found its way into here too. We turn one last corner and the feeling of nausea subsides just a little. The rest of the freshman, the people I grew up with, bring a sense of comfort. Some look as scared as me, and others look like celebrities ready to take any large crowd of people. I spot my friend Mandy’s fiery orange hair and run over to her and give her a hug. We exchange a look that screams fear and anxiousness. We hug again and I feel like I can make it through the