RYLIE

WE ALL HAVE various versions of ourselves. The two I have most are the one I show to everyone else, hiding certain feelings that we don't want others to notice, and the one I show to myself.

There are just evolving feelings that no one would understand. Grief, anxiety, and heartbreak all wrapped into one. It's always challenging to talk about these emotions to others, especially since they're from the past.

But right now, I don't have the energy or time to talk about it with anyone. Today, I will be starting my senior year in high school. I've been dreading this day since . . . forever. Especially since I'll have to be around loads of people and answer questions from teachers. Most of the other students are excited for today and would practically chat their hearts out nonstop with others.

Don't get me wrong. A lot of people think that I'm a shy person who hates being social and never says a peep. In reality, I'm socially awkward and an outsider. I'd rather be hidden in the dim shadows of trees at night than to be in the spotlight of anything.

I wasn't always like this. When I was a young child, I was quite chatty, as a lot of people I knew would say. Whether it would be at dinnertime or at school, I always had something to say. People wonder how I had gone from being a motormouth to an inaudible mouse. In short words, it's complicated.

Let's just say that certain events from my past caused me to become this silent.

"Rylie, sweetie, have a great day at school. Love you," Mom chimed after taking a sip of her tea. "And don't forget to keep your head up at all times!"

"Fine, I won't. I'll see you later," I mumbled, swinging my dense backpack over my shoulder.

I sighed heavily as I exited the car, closing the door shut behind me. Crowds of students overfilled the front area of the school, chatting as loud as they could. I bit my lip as my knees trembled. My instincts told me to go back inside the car, lie to Mom that I feel "sick", and go back home to skip the school day.

There's a heavy chance that she would make me go to school anyway, especially since I looked fine earlier this morning. But it's worth a try, right? 

Wrong.

When I peered back at where Mom's car was parked when she dropped me off, she was already gone. Now, I will have to hope that I will survive this school day in one piece. It will be a challenge.

The immense school building stood firmly against the sky as the sun continued to rise, multiple hues fading into one. The crisp, early September air blew the country flag that stood tall on a pole that stood next to the school. Crews High School is one of the most popular schools in my city, which means that there are a lot of students. Believe me, it isn't good for my socially awkward self.

But now, I will have to try to set that aside. I trudged my way through the students who blocked the path to the entrance, avoiding eye contact with every single one of them. They're probably not looking at me, since most of them are catching up with their friends or whatever, but still.

When I got inside the school, the first thing I saw was a familiar-looking girl with her back glued to the wall.

She had her long, wavy raven hair that hung over her shoulders. She wore a plain beige turtleneck shirt, a tan plaid skirt that reached to above her knees, and white sneakers to match. I could recognize a look like that anywhere. It was my best and only friend, Nora Reyes.

Instead of her being quiet like me, she's loud and outgoing. She sometimes encourages me to branch out and step outside of my comfort zone a bit, but of course, I do the opposite whenever she says that. I never know where to start when it comes to stepping outside of my comfort zone.

It's just . . . difficult.

Other than that, she has a fantastic fashion sense. Nora wears a wide variety of colorful skirts, jeans, leggings, turtlenecks, sweaters, crop tops, and everything else you could possibly think of when it comes to clothing. Sometimes, I feel like I want to raid her closet and snag anything that would fit my style (since I mostly wear hoodies and sweaters) and borrow them.

"Nora, hey!" I exclaimed with a wave.

"Ry, you're finally here. I've been waiting for you for like, forever," Nora chimed, resting her arm around my shoulder.

"Yeah . . . I hope this day goes by quickly. I don't want to be here," I grimaced, glimpsing at the people who bolted through the doors.

"It'll go by quicker than you think. It's just the first day," she assured me.

I hope that Nora is right, because if not, I won't have a great day. School is one of my most dreaded places. There are many places I'd rather be, like the comfort of my bedroom where no one is watching, or the public library. Rows upon rows of books stood on wooden bookshelves, waiting to be taken and read.

The library is a quiet place, so much to the point where you could hear a clock ticking if you were near it. There's not a lot of people, making it a perfect place for me.

"So . . . let's go see what classes we have together and pick up our schedules!" Nora suggested, motioning me towards a nearby stairway that was packed with people.

I nodded with a gulp and followed her on the staircase. So far, it's a mystery of how many classes I have with Nora. I hope that I'll have most of them with her. If I don't, then I'll end up alone in classes.

Just imagine when we do group work or work with a partner. My socially awkward self wouldn't know what to do. Working with someone in class that isn't Nora is a nightmare, petrifying enough to make my teeth chatter and my bones shiver.

All I know about the two of us having a class together is that we're certain to have art, an elective both of us signed up for this year. Originally, I didn't want to have art this year. The reason why I have it is because my mother kept pestering me about how I should try something new, step out of my comfort zone, and branch out.

She isn't wrong, but like I said earlier, I don't know how to step out of my comfort zone. Heck, I don't even know where to start. I guess trying something new, like me taking an art class is going to be a start.

I have mixed feelings about it, but on the bright side, I'm sure that art class doesn't require being social with people.

Right?

After six long hours of going from class to class, it was finally time for art. Nora and I walked together from our last class, which we had together. It turned out that we had five classes together, which is good enough for me.

All of the art classes were located on the west side on the ground level of our school, so we had to walk quite a distance to arrive. The door of our art class was wide open. The first thing I saw were the vivid decorations, such as paper flowers and cutouts that stuck to the wall. Paper honeycombs of all sizes hung from the ceiling from left to right.

The classroom was packed with students who whispered to each other inaudibly. It was so packed to the point where there were hardly any empty seats left in sight. 

I looked towards the back of the classroom to see if there were any available seats. Unluckily, all the seats were filled. In fact, the only empty seats were in the front.

Great.

I feel more comfortable sitting in the back of a classroom. No one will bother to look at me or anything. But now, I have to sit in the front. Nora motioned me to a table that had three people sitting on it. There were two boys that sat next to each other, while the other sat across one of them.

That left two available chairs to sit on, right across each other. I avoided eye contact from anyone who could be staring at me and sat next to one boy, while Nora sat next to another.

Our teacher, Ms. Edwards, a young woman who looked like she was in her late twenties, stood in front of the class with a broad smile spread across her face. She cleared her throat and adjusted one of the sleeves of her tie-dyed T-shirt.

"Hello, everyone. Welcome to art class," she proclaimed as she headed towards the door to close it. "I'm Ms. Edwards, and I will be your art teacher for this year."

Her smile continued to broaden as she glimpsed at every part of the classroom. She strutted to her desk and projected a presentation that she would review with us.

She took a few minutes to introduce herself to us by saying basic things about herself, such as her passion for art. That explained the decorations that were hung all around the room.

After that, she explained how her class is about creativity, not perfection. She also went over some information about the materials we would use in class.

Typical stuff.

"For the remainder of this class period, you all will do a pre-test," Ms. Edwards smiled, flipping her sleek, strawberry blonde hair to her shoulder.

A chorus of groans and people sucking their teeth erupted. Taking a test can be a handful. But on the first day of school when everyone's in the process of turning their brains back on for the school year? That's just a whole different thing.

"Don't worry, people. It won't be a written or standardized test. It will be something . . . fun," Ms. Edwards added, clasping her hands together. "You all will create a drawing of anything you'd like. Sketch everything out first and then start drawing. Do as much as you can before class is over."

"Will this be graded?" A student from the back of the classroom questioned.

"No, but I expect everyone to try their best," the teacher replied. "Remember, this isn't about perfection. This is about creativity!"

Ms. Edwards picked up a stack of papers from her desk and strutted towards our table. She handed the papers to the boy who sat next to me.

"Can you please pass these out for me, Elias?" She queried.

"Yeah, I will, Ms. Edwards," Elias stood up from his stool.

He handed a paper out to me first, then everyone else that sat at our table. He circled around the classroom and gave a paper to each student, getting some type of thank you from each of them. When he finished passing the papers out, he strutted to his seat and sat down.

I placed my bulky backpack on my lap to search for a pencil. I rummaged through notebooks, a planner, folders, loose sheet protectors, and pens, still not finding a pencil. Before school started today, I was in a rush to put all my supplies in my backpack since I didn't pack them beforehand, which is why it's messy.

I should find the time to organize everything.

Luckily, I found a mechanical pencil laying at the bottom of my backpack, on top of a spiral notebook I used today for History. I pulled it from there and placed my backpack on the floor.

I grimaced and raised an eyebrow as I glimpsed at my paper. I have no clue on what to draw. Heck, I'm not even good at drawing. I can hardly manage to draw a straight line, even if it's a teeny-weeny line.

Okay, fine; maybe I can draw a teeny-weeny line—like a minus sign straight. But anything that's an inch or two longer than that, nope.

"So, Ry, what are you going to draw for your picture? I'm going to draw myself from when I was in a cool resort in the Philippines, just like I did this summer," Nora exclaimed, grabbing the attention of everyone at our table.

"I don't know what to draw . . ." I murmured, stroking my pencil across my paper. "I think I'll draw me and my pet cat, Cookie."

"That sounds cute," she beamed with a grin.

Cookie is my other best friend. I've been her owner for about a year now. Usually, when I come home from somewhere, she greets me at the door and snuggles herself against my legs. It's a heartwarming feeling, a sensation that I would do anything to have. 

I started to sketch out myself on my paper, erasing just about everything. Anything I drew looked crummy and not good enough.

I snuck a peek at the paper of the boy who sat next to me. What's his name? Elias, I think. I already forgot.

His paper was already a masterpiece, one deserved to be placed in some type of hall of fame. My mouth dropped open in awe. Everything he drew so far looked perfect.

From what I could see, there were two boys who were posing together for a selfie. They looked oddly familiar, too. Apparently, it was Elias and his friend, who sat next to him.

His drawing is a million times better than mine.

I turned back to mine, raising an eyebrow at the eraser marks that smeared through the paper. I guess I put too much force in trying to sketch. Oops.

I started to sketch out Cookie and I, sketching as slowly, but efficiently as I could. By the time about ten minutes rolled around, the bell rang, signaling that school is over for the day.

My drawing doesn't look that bad, but it isn't decent, either. My arms, my head, and Cookie's paws look weird. Unfortunately, they were the most noticeable things anyone could see, too. However, since this is a pre-test, and this isn't for a grade, the way my drawing looks doesn't matter.

"Okay everyone, before you leave, put your drawings at the middle of your table neatly. I'll collect them soon," Ms. Edwards announced, clapping her hands together. "Class is dismissed. I'll see you all tomorrow."

I placed my pencil in the side pocket of my backpack. I took out a book I borrowed from the public library and hugged it against my chest. I'm not going to read it or anything. I'm just gonna hold it, especially since my backpack is stuffed with supplies. 

I met Nora at the door of the classroom. We exited and started our journey to the student parking lot.

"Can you believe that we're seniors now?" Nora proclaimed with jazz hands. "We're at the tippy-top of the chain!"

"Yeah, it's hard to believe. It feels like we were freshmen not too long ago," I stated before climbing up the first step of a vacant stairway.

"I know, right? Time flies by quickly," she agreed, nodding her head.

I remember the first day of school as freshmen. Just like everyone else, I roamed the broad hallways of this school, wondering where to go. It feels like it happened yesterday. It's interesting how fast time can go.

But in the case of this school year, I think that it'll be a weird mix of fast and slow, especially slow since I'm dreading this school year. I'm almost completely sure that I'll make it. I mean, I made it through today. Just one-hundred seventy-nine days left to go. It won't be the easiest journey, but it won't be too hard.

It will be . . . average.

//

So... what do you think of Rylie? Do you like her? 

Now that we know that she is holding in a lot of feelings that are from her past, are you interested in learning about it? If so, do you have any predictions? I'm interested in knowing about what you think. 🍵

I'll try to reply to comments asap. I've been busy with so many things, but don't worry, I'll get to your comments.

Thanks for reading, and hopefully, I'll see you in the next one! 💛

P.S. Chapter 2 is already published!! 😊