Kelsey Rivera hates being a new student. She hates school. And most importantly, she hates people.
Growing up, she had a terrible life. Her mother would force her to go to different schools until she got herself kicked out for being bad. She didn't...
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The bus sat in front of me, looking very . . . sad, I guess. It was bright yellow, but it was more on the dilapidated side, so it wasn't a very cheery yellow. One of PCA's teachers was standing next to it, a wide grin on his face that replaced the cheeriness around the bus. He seemed nice enough, so I hoped that I wouldn't mess this thing up for myself. I promised myself this morning that I wouldn't get angry with people, no matter how annoying they were. Hopefully, I could honor that promise.
As I approached the bus, the guy turned his radiant smile on me. Usually, when other teachers saw me, their smiles dropped and their eyes dimmed, but not his. Instead, his eyes seemed to light up more, and the dark crinkles next to his eyes deepened. "You must be Kelsey Rivera." So, he knew my name, which meant that he knew of my past. Great. He must've been a great actor, pretending to like me.
"And you are?" I asked, stopping in front of him. I crossed my arms over my chest to give me a sense of toughness, just so I could live up to my reputation.
"Mr. Kirby."
I nodded once, filing his name away. He seemed like a nice enough man, and I hoped that I could have him as a teacher later in my PCA years. For someone who had heard about my reputation, he didn't act like I was such a bad kid. It was refreshing.
As I stood on the first step of the bus, I glanced over my shoulder and said, "Quick question. Why do you have a bus this dilapidated taking students to their volunteer places?"
"Last year, there were only a couple of students who volunteered places, so we used our own personal transportations to get them there." Mr. Kirby shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. "But now that Dean Rivers has implemented the Three Strike system, more and more kids are volunteering. This was a very quick decision." He looked at me for a second and said, "Quick question. What are you listening to?"
I hadn't realized that I was still listening to music. It was a good thing that I only had one headphone in, or it would have looked like I was trying to ignore him. "Rock music, why?"
"Oh, my younger brother wants to start up a music production company in Florida. He always wonders what kids these days are listening to, and I like to help him out in every way that I can."
Mr. Kirby nodded, which I took as my chance to slip onto the bus. There were at least twenty other students scattered around the small area, and most of them looked like they were bad kids. Since I had my fair share of detention, I knew what bad kids looked like, and these kids definitely fit the mold. A few students had their heads buried in books, which meant that some of them were actually good kids that didn't do anything bad, like me. I never liked to associate myself with the bad kids, but I was one, no matter how much I tried to be good. That thought didn't make me happy.
I shoved my headphone into my ear, turning the music up louder. I didn't want to listen to what the people around me were talking about because it either involved something bad, was about someone, or a combination of the two. If something did go down because of these people, I so did not want to be apart of it. I only had two more chances to prove myself, and I wasn't going to waste them. Dean Rivers was believed in me. I wasn't going to let him down.
The ride to the museum was short since PCA was near it. I didn't realize that when I was first came out here, but maybe it was a good thing that I didn't know them how close I was to something that caused me pain. Once the bus had left me at the building, I just stood there, staring up at the brickwork façade. It looked the same as it did when Dad and I came years ago, just a little older and a little sadder. Sort of like me.
I made my way up the stone stairs, my heart feeling heavy. My satchel felt heavier as well, like it was trying to help me carry the load. It didn't quite help; I still felt the sadness weighing me down, making me struggle up the steps. I could do it, though; I've done it a thousands times, so it was no big deal.
The door burst open, scaring me half to death. My hand had found its way to my chest, like it was going to stop my heart from falling. I stepped to the side to let the small family of two pass. I couldn't keep my eyes off of them as they walked by me, a father and daughter duo similar to my own father and me. The little girl was chatting excitedly to her father, who only looked at her with pure adoration. How sweet. If only that adoration lasted.
I flung the door open and walked into the museum, already feeling overwhelmed. This was so out of my comfort zone, but if it meant that I was on Dean Rivers good side, then I had to do it. I was tired of being labeled the bad kid; it was time to turn a new leaf.
"You must be Kelsey Rivera!" an older lady said from my right. She must have come out of the office at the end of the building because the door was open. She had a bright smile on her face, and I nervously played with the end of my best looking shirt. "I am so glad that you decided to join us today!"
"Um, you're welcome?"
She stuck her hand out, so I took it. "I'm Caroline Jackson, the director of this fine museum. I will be showing you how to do things around here and then you can start on your very first project! Aren't you just excited?"
"Sure."
Caroline made a beeline for the front desk, her greying hair flowing behind her. For a second there, I just watched her go, my heart beating crazily in my chest. I so did not want to be here, but I couldn't turn back now. And who knows? Maybe this will make me happy, just like it did when I walked around the place with my father so many years ago.
