September 25: Ruby

Ruby

The drive never gets old. I watch through the windshield as the course changes from winding suburban roads to busy city streets. The drive from my house to school is exactly thirteen miles. It takes somewhere between eighteen and twenty-one minutes to get to school, depending on who is driving. It usually takes me nineteen minutes and seventeen seconds. I count them. The ride is so comfortable I barely pay attention. I pass through my neighborhood, one of the nicest on the Northwest side of Chicago.
I notice Jeoffry Kente standing on the corner of West Division, one of the worst streets in the district. His usual neighborhood group surrounds him, and although he looks just like the rest of them, he seems out of place. West Division Street is in the heart of the ghetto. You don’t go there unless you have to. He is on his side with his friends. On the other side, waiting for the same bus, are the kids who live in Humboldt Park. Everyone calls it Little Puerto Rico, and a large group of Hispanics stands on the corner. I don’t get it. But it’s pointless to try to understand what goes on around here. I contemplate pulling over, offering Jeoff a ride. I don’t know if we could be considered friends, we are just band mates after all. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, his head down. He must be in a bad mood. First day of school gets you like that. Maybe I’ll offer him a ride tomorrow instead. Besides, I’ve only got seven minutes left.
I pass through the rest of town and make it to school right as scheduled. It is 7:30. I pull into the spot with the sign in front of it that reads Reserved for Student Body President. That is me. Ruby St. Clair, president, ruler of the school. I have more power and responsibility than our principal, Mr. Hall. It is a tough job, but someone’s got to do it. My spot is right next to the one reserved for the football captain, Anderson Stone. I don’t know why he gets a spot; class president and football captain is practically the same thing, right? That is Five Points High School for you. My contour looks tiny next to Anderson’s big black Ford Ranger. He’s leaned against his shiny new truck, big and cocky as ever.
“Hey, Anderson,” I say when I get out of the car.
“Hey, Ruby.” He smiles big, his teeth are perfect. “How was your summer, Miss President?”
“It was good.” I sling my bag over my shoulder and nod. “I went to Peru with my family for a couple of weeks. That was nice.”
“Awesome.” He runs his hand over his dark blonde hair, freshly cut. “I spent the whole summer talking to coaches.”
“Oh yeah.” I nod. “It’s the big year, huh? The scouts will be out for you.”
“Yep.” He nods, but looks distant. “I can’t believe we’re seniors now. It doesn’t feel right. I’m ready to get out of here, though.”
“Me too,” I agree. “Well, I guess I’m gonna go in now. Do you want to walk with me?”
“Nah,” Anderson sighs. “I’ve got to wait for Samantha. She’s late as usual.”
I just nod. The football captain can’t walk into school on the first day of senior year without his prize cheerleader girlfriend. Besides, Anderson and I shouldn’t even be seen talking to each other. But we’ve been friends since daycare. I’m not sure if ‘friends’ is really the right word. I think even though Anderson is the most popular boy at Five Points, I’m probably the only person he can actually trust.
“Well, I’ll see you around, then.” I smile and start to walk to towards the front entrance of the school.
“Bye, Ruby.”
When I get into the school, it’s bustling as if we never left here in June. Walking through the front lobby, I see that everyone is in their right place. The lobby is a huge circle, with a smaller circle in the center that holds the administrative offices. Right up front by the doors are the freshmen. They don’t know their place yet, so they all sit together, looking scared. And they should be. Five Points is a huge school in the middle of Chicago. Everyone here is labeled as soon as they walk through those doors. No matter how hard you try, you can’t shake your label. We are branded for life, or at least for the next four years. I scope out the new class, see who I think will end up where in the first month of school. They may be freshmen for life, judging from the naivety in their eyes. I shake my head and chuckle.
Coming around the administrative circle, I see the blacks in the back right corner. Someone is blasting dubstep music and a group of girls is dancing in a circle. I see that Jeoff and his friends have all just arrived. They throw their backpacks down and join in on the dancing. Most of the boys and a few of the girls wear silver chains with a bunny hanging from their necks. I don’t know what that means. They are members of Folk Nation, one of the Kings’ biggest rivals. I guess that’s why they stand on opposite sides of the street. They call themselves the 808 division of Folk Nation. Jeoff never wears his chain, but he is a part of the gang by default. He pulls out his drum pad and sticks. He sits in the corner and starts to drum. This is what he does every morning; he just drums. Practice makes perfect, Mr. East always says.
On the opposite side in the back of the lobby are the Hispanics. They are cholos, as they call themselves. Most of them are Puerto Rican, and always ready for a fight. They affiliate themselves with the Latin Kings, one of the oldest gangs in Chicago’s history. Their leader, Manny Aviles, stands in the center, his arm wrapped around a girl. I can tell from his expression and hand motions he is telling his friends about a fight he was in. I roll my eyes. The Kings always wear black and gold t-shirts, baggy jeans, and gold chains with big gaudy crowns that hang low. The two sides are divided by a row of benches, placed there by the students themselves. They don’t cross those benches onto the other side, unless they want things to end in bloodshed. They hate each other. The Kings and the 808s never get along. I think it’s stupid.
I go through a set of double doors past the cholos. A few of the girls give me looks, but I ignore them. I’ve just entered the prep hallway. Here, if you don’t play football, basketball, cheer, or have at least at $5,000 maximum on your credit card, you are eaten alive. This hall is full of blonde hair, Hollister t-shirts, and daddy’s money. I could fit in here. But I can’t stand most of the people who do. Most of them are snobby and mean. Passing by, I hear them talking about all of their new cars, clothes, their summer trips. It is overwhelmingly disgusting. In the sea of blonde, I see one head that is a little blonder than the rest.
It is Samantha West, Anderson’s girlfriend. She and I have been neighbors since birth. She’s one of the few decent preps, but we still aren’t best friends.
“Hey Sam,” I say and smile. “I think Anderson was outside waiting for you.”
“Yeah, I know.” Sam flashes all of her perfectly bleached white teeth. “We walked in together, but he disappeared with the boys.” She puts her hand on my arm and laughs. “I’ll find him later. I hope you have a great day!”
I give her the once-over quickly. Crisp new jeans, faded perfectly. Brand new Sperry shoes and a pale pink polo. The white bow that holds her blonde hair up identifies that she is, in fact, a cheerleader. Her nails are freshly manicured, her makeup is perfect, and she has a heart of gold. She is flawless.
“You too,” I smile and choke back the jealousy pushing from my chest. I turn and walk away from the preps as fast as I can.
The stairs outside the auditorium is where the theater geeks hang out. There are several of them, and they all dress funny and talk with weird accents. But they always seem happy and completely content with who they are. Gabe DeCarteret, the biggest thespian of them all, is standing on a chair and singing lines from Wicked the Musical. He has hair that is somewhere in between blonde and red. He is skinny, and I never see him without a v-neck shirt. He wears thick-rimmed black glasses, but they aren’t prescription. He is actually very attractive, in the weird, actor-type way. Too bad he’s gay. Everyone knows it, even if he doesn’t yet.
I know his parents. His twin brother, James, is best friends with Anderson. Their parents are tough-as-nails, hardcore Christians. So Gabe continues to lie to himself, and the rest of us. One day I just want to hand him the microphone when I’m doing the morning announcements, and let him tell the whole world. Or at least, the Five Points world. Maybe one day. He finishes the song and all of his friends clap and cheer. One day, I hope to be as carefree as them.
I leave the main building and head to the resource building. This is where our library and studio are. The nerds hang out in the library. It’s too cliché. They all sit at a table with coffees and talk about things that no high school kid talks about. It’s fascinating. I see Audrey, my vice president, in there too.
On the other side of the library is the studio. This is where we film the announcements every day. As the new class president, I get to sit on a stool in front of a red screen and tell everyone at Five Points what is going on in our little world.
“Hi, everyone,” I set my bag down and smile to the crew.
Mrs. Mashburn pushes her glasses up on her nose. “Hi, Ruby, you’re right on time.” She hands me a bulleted list. “Here are all the announcements, go over them a few times to get yourself familiar with them.”
“Okay,” I say while looking over the list.
“You’re on in five. And don’t be nervous,” she adds, seeing the fear in my eyes. “You’ll be great.”
“I’m here!” I turn around at the sound of someone who is way too excited for seven thirty in the morning. I realize it is Gabe.
“Ah, Gabriel, you’re here.” Mrs. Mashburn claps her hands together lightly. “Gabriel volunteered to do the filming this year.”
“Actually, she’s forcing me.” Gabe smiles sarcastically. “But I don’t mind, it’s all a part of the theater.” He curtsies gracefully.
“Maybe you can do something about the camera adding ten pounds,” I say lightly.
“Oh please, honey.” Gabe sighs. “You look great. I would kill for that bone structure. And those curls.”
He pulls on one of the black ringlets that hang just past my shoulders. I used to hate my Shirley Temple curls growing up, but I’ve learned to live with them. Up close, I realize our glasses are almost the same, black-rimmed and rectangular.
“Are you sure I look okay?” I pull on my new, dark blue American Eagle long-sleeved shirt.
“Stunning.” Gabe pinches my cheeks lightly. “Just for a little color,” he says with a wink.
“Okay,” Mrs. Mashburn says with a giggle. “Everyone take your places. We’ll be starting in just a few.”
I swipe some chap stick over my lips and sit down on the hard stool. Gabe brings me a cup of water and smiles.
“Just read the teleprompter and smile. You’ve got nothing to lose; you’re the student body president.”
“Thanks, Gabe.” I sigh and swallow the water.
“And here we go.” Mrs. Mashburn holds up her hands and Gabe runs back behind the camera. “In five, four, three, two…”
“Good morning, Five Point Boomers, and welcome back.” I smile and stare at teleprompter. I really am happy to be back. “For all of you who don’t know me, I am Ruby St. Clair, your Student Body President. You should all be in your homerooms at this time. We have just a few announcements for you today. You will be receiving your schedules and locker assignments in your homerooms. Please use the locker you are assigned. And keep in mind that some of you will be assigned to share a locker. Auditions for the school’s production of Rent will take place next week, so if you have a theatrical side, come out and audition. Please keep in mind that we have a dress code here at Five Point, and Mr. Hall has asked that we try to follow the code as closely as possible. Also keep in mind that we have a strict tobacco use policy that we will be enforcing this year. For all of you freshmen out there, we have a lot of opportunities for you to get involved here at Five Points, so be listening all week for more information about all of the clubs and organizations that will be starting up soon. And upperclassmen, please remember that we have a strict no-hazing policy. Last, but not least, last-minute football tryouts will start tomorrow. We still have a few spots open on the best team in the district, so see Coach Barnes in room two-twenty to sign up or for more information. At the sound of the bell, please report to your first period class. Thank you Boomers, and have a great first day!”
“And cut,” Mrs. Mashburn screams from behind the camera. She claps her hands again. “That was marvelous! Gabriel, isn’t she natural?”
“She is,” Gabe agrees.
“Thank you.” I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and try to breathe. I pick up my bag and start to head out. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
My first class is calculus, in the math and science building. I am greeted by a huge mob of students when I walk outside. Everyone knows me here, and I am slammed with ten hellos a second.
“Hey Ruby!”
“How’s it going, Ruby?”
“Great job on the announcements!”
“Hey, Miss President.”
I smile and say hey to all them. Some of them are friends; some of them are just acquaintances. Voices that I hear a million times a day. Then I hear the most familiar voice of them all.
“Rubes!”
I turn around and see Ariana, my best friend. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a tight braid and she looks stressed, as always.
“Hey girl,” she says as she puts her arms around me. “You look great on TV.” She winks.
“Thanks, A. It was nerve-racking, but kind of fun. I think I’m gonna like being president.”
“Along with everything else, Wonder Woman.” She puts her arm around me as we continue walking. “I don’t see how you do it all. President, classes, soccer team, band, mathletes, community service-”
“Okay, I get it.” I sigh. “Ruby’s an overachiever; tell me something I don’t know.”
“I’m just saying.” Ariana shrugs. “I know about a hundred girls who would kill to be you. Brains, beauty, personality, you’re the whole package.”
“And you are smoking something.” I shake my head.
“Ruby,” I hear someone call from behind us. I turn around to see Mr. Hall. He motions for me to come towards him.
“I’ll see you at lunch, A.” I hug her and head towards the principal who is about to make me late for class.
“Yes, Mr. Hall?”
“I need you to come with me. I have a student in the office who just moved here, he has no idea where he’s going or what to do. He was late and missed homeroom. I need someone to show him around.”
“But, I have class. It’s calculus, and-”
“And I already cleared it with your teacher. It won’t take you long, I just need you to show him where his classes are, the cafeteria, things like that. I’d really appreciate your help here, Ruby.” He looks at me from over the top of his glasses. I really don’t want to miss calculus, but the principal is staring straight at me with his hard, glassy black eyes.
“Yes, sir.”
“Great.” He puts his arm around me. “It’s just the first day, you won’t be missing much.
“Here he is.” We walk to the office, where I see a skinny boy wearing a gray NAVY sweatshirt and gym shorts. He looks up as we approach, then quickly stands to his feet.

He has freshman written all over him.
Audrey is sitting on the bench too. Her arms are crossed, her eyes are closed. She looks upset.
“Hey, Audrey.” I smile at her. Mr. Hall doesn’t give her time to reply.
“Alexander, this is Ruby St. Clair, our student body president. He stands in between me and the freshman.
“Yeah, I saw you on the TV.” Alexander points to the television mounted to the wall in the lobby. “I’m Alex Reid.” He holds out his hand awkwardly.
“Nice to meet you, Alex.” I shake his hand. His handshake is firm, not what I expected.
“Ruby will be showing you around campus today,” Mr. Hall explains. “Try to make it quick though, I don’t want you getting too behind on the first day.”
“Yes sir.” Alex nods.
“Thanks again, Ruby.” Mr. Hall pats me on the back and heads to his office.
“Well,” I sigh. “Let’s get this tour started. “Over here to the left,” I point, “is the cafeteria. It’s pretty huge, and you should know that everyone has a designated section. If you sit in the wrong section, you’re liable to get hurt.”
“What do you mean?” Alex raises an eyebrow.
“I mean stay close to the front, with the other freshmen.” I try to make it as simple for him as possible. He still looks confused. “You’ll understand once you go to lunch today. What lunch do you have?”
“Uh.” He looks down at his schedule card. “C lunch.”
“Me too.” I nod. “It’s the worst, way too crowded. But you get used to it.” We start to walk in the opposite direction, towards the prep hallway.
“This is the prep hallway,” I say as we walk through the double doors. “Stay out of here during all breaks, especially in the morning. They feed off of freshmen, trust me.”
“Wow, is this tour supposed to help me or scare the shit out of me?” Alex sighs uncomfortably.
“I’m sorry,” I shake my head. “Let me just be honest with you. Here at Five Points, you’re given a label. Usually, you don’t get to pick your label. You’re a prep, a nerd, a theater geek, a stoner, an emo, the list goes on. This school is all about cliques. Cliques don’t mingle with other cliques. For example, the nerds do not mingle with the preps. We have two gangs here, the Kings and the 808’s. If you cross paths with one of them, or piss them off, you’re screwed.”
I can see by his expression I haven’t made it any better. “Look, I’m not trying to scare you. I’m just warning you. Stay out of this hallway, unless you have class here or you plan on becoming a theater geek. They hang out on those stairs over there.” I point to the stairs dubbed the thespian stairs.
“Not really my scene.” Alex shakes his head. “I do think I have class in here though.” He looks at his card. “Spanish One.”
I look at the card. “Yeah, room twelve. It’s right over here.” I point and walk him to the room. “They won’t kill you if you don’t give them a reason to.”
“Okay. I’ll try my best.”
“So, who are you, Alex? Where did you come from?”I try to break the ice and make him feel a little more comfortable.
“I just moved here from Virginia. My dad is in the Navy, he was stationed there for a while. But he met some chick and we had to move.”He seems a little pissed.
“You don’t like the woman?”
“She’s alright, I guess. It’s just that… never mind.” He shrugs as we continue outside towards the math and science building.
“Okay.” I nod. “It’s cool if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“She’s cool. But her daughter is a total drag. She goes here too, she’s a junior. She refused to show me around, said hanging with a freshman would be bad for her rep. And her rep is already trashed, from what I understand.”
“Who is she?”I am completely intrigued.
“Evelyn Rhodes.” He practically spits the name out. “You probably don’t know her; she doesn’t seem like your type of friend.” He looks me up and down.
“Oh, I know her alright.” I laugh a little. “Everyone knows Evelyn. You’re right about the reputation thing. I think hanging out with a freshman is the least of her problems.”
“Yeah,” Alex agrees.
“Well, here is your geometry room.” We stop at room one fourteen in the math and science building. “You’ll come here for second period. And you’re lucky; you have physical science third, which is right up the stairs.
“Cool.”Alex nods. “My last class is gym.”
“That’s in the gym,” I laugh quietly. “Which is right there.” I point to the gymnasium several yards away. “Just go in through those double doors.”
“Okay.” Alex nods. “Anything else I should know about this place?”
I shrug. “You’ll get used to everything after a while. You’ll probably feel like everyone hates you. Don’t worry, everyone hates all freshmen. It’s just a part of the process. Like I said before, stay out of the way and you’ll be fine. Try to stay under the radar. I’m a peer counselor here, so if you need anything or anyone to talk to, I’m available on Mondays and Wednesdays from three until four-thirty.”
“Wow, you do it all, don’t you?”
“Not really,” I shrug. “I like to keep busy.” It keeps my mind off of other things. I don’t say that out loud. “You’ve got time to make it to your first class,” I say after looking at my watch. “Is there anything else you need?”
“I just need to know where room two twenty is, so I can get some information on football tryouts.”
I shake my head slowly. “You don’t want to do that.”
“Why not?”
“We have one of the best football teams in the district. Freshmen never make the team. Except Anderson Stone, he was the first to make varsity his freshman year.”
“Well, I’m about to be the second.” Alex is a little hard-headed. I think I might like it.
“Remember what I said about staying under the radar?” I lower my glasses and stare at him. “Trying out for football is probably not the best tactic.”
“Whatever, I’ll find the room on my own.” He shrugs. “Thanks for your help, Ruby. I’ll see you around.” He turns and walks back towards the main building.
“Bye.”
I head to the math and science building, wrapping my head around what just happened. Alex is Evelyn’s sort-of-step-brother. Evelyn Rhodes is the school slut. She gets around, and she’s not ashamed of it. We were in girl scouts together when we were younger, but I haven’t talked to her in years. Our lives took very different paths in high school.
When I get to class, Mr. Baker is halfway through the first lecture. Luckily, it’s just a review. I sit down and start to take notes.
The bell rings later and we all head to our designated spots for break. The stoners all hang out under the breezeway that connects the English and math and science buildings. That’s where Brian hangs out. Brian Phillips. Saying his name still gives me that funny feeling, the one where it tastes like you’ve got a million pennies in your mouth and you can’t swallow the lump that’s in your throat.
Brian is my ex. We were the ideal couple freshman and sophomore year. But then he changed. He started smoking weed and taking every kind of pill he could find. Now he’s the biggest dealer in the school. At first, I tried not to let it bother me. I knew he was going through a hard time. But eventually, there was never a point in the day when he wasn’t high. He missed so much school that he got a year behind. I couldn’t have a boyfriend that needed help being happy with me, or with his life. We’ve been broken up for eight months. Eight months and thirteen days. I count them.
He and his friends are hanging out under the breezeway, some of them with skateboards, others with guitars. I see Brian talking to a guy that I don’t recognize. They shake hands for several seconds and I realize what’s going on. It makes me physically sick to see Brian like that. His hair is longer, he’s lost weight. His skin isn’t as bright as it used to be. He isn’t Brian anymore. I force myself to turn away and continue to my spot.
The country boys are all leaning against the brick of the main building. They try to hide the dip in their mouths, especially when they see me. They don’t belong in Chicago. Crash is with them, cracking jokes as usual. He’s the funny guy, the one everyone loves. He is one of the few people here that doesn’t fit into any group. He is a floater, kind of like me. I walk past them as he’s giving the punch line.
“When one snowman says to another: ‘that’s funny, I smell carrots too!’”
The guys all crack up. I roll my eyes, but give them a smile.
“Hey Crash.”
“Hey, Ruby!” He waves. “I’ll be over to trim your bushes after school today. And I mean that in the most sexual way possible.” He wiggles his eyebrows and has the guys laughing again.
“I’ll see you after school, Crash.” I shake my head and keep walking.
When I get to the main building, the theater geeks are on the thespian stairs. The cholos and the 808’s are on their respective sides of the main lobby. The freshmen are all wondering around aimlessly.
“Hey Ruby!” I hear from all sides. I smile and wave to everyone. My next class is Spanish Five. After that, I’ve got AP Biology. I’m already ready for lunch.

********

Lunch comes pretty fast. The first day is always a breeze, but I love it. At most schools, you come back, everyone has dyed their hair, they’ve changed their style, and they are different. Here, nothing ever changes. We are branded like cattle from the first day we step into these halls. After that, like a tattoo, it is impossible to get rid of.
The cafeteria is where we all herd to between eleven and one. Our school is so big that we have three lunch periods. I have C lunch. It’s filled with mostly upperclassmen, along with a few random freshmen. I walk in, and everything is just as I expect it to be. The freshmen are sitting at three long tables in the front of the cafeteria. They talk awkwardly amongst themselves. I see Alex sitting at the end of one of the tables, not talking.
To the right are the preps. They are the rich and famous of Five Points. They sit eight or ten to a table, the guys moving from one to another to flirt with the girls. Anderson and Samantha sit in the center of the center table. The rest flock around them like perfectly shaved sheep. They all look so happy that it’s frightening.
In the back right corner are the black people. They too move from table to table, socializing loudly. Some would use the term ‘ghetto’ to describe the black people at Five Points. I think that term is too generic. They all have this rough exterior to them, even the girls. They are as tough as sandpaper on the outside, because they have to be. I’ve never been to West Division Street, or any of the ones around it, but the stories are enough to keep me away. As hard as they all seem, they still have a spirit about them. They seem strangely happy, even though I’m not sure what they have to be happy about. Jeoff is sitting at one of the tables with his drum pad, making beats while a few of the girls dance next to him.
Beside them, the story is opposite. The Hispanics sit in the back left corner. They all have hard expressions on their faces. Some of them sit on top of the tables, ignoring the teachers’ requests that they stop. They shake each others’ hands and throw food at passersby. Manny stands in the center of them, a girl under his arm. She’s different than the one from this morning. He cuts eyes at the blacks sitting just a few tables away, making sure they keep their distance.
Outside are all of the stoners and skaters, as well as the emo kids. They all try to sneak cigarettes while the teachers aren’t looking. Brian is out there with them, I can see him through the glass doors. He looks relatively happy. He’s probably high.
In the middle of the cafeteria, there are four big round tables. The two on the outside are where the theater geeks and generic nerds sit. They are all lost in their own conversations about musicals and European history. I sit at the center two tables. I say both of them, because I move back and forth between them. One of them is where my leadership friends sit. We are the overachievers. We are all peer counseling, yearbook committee-ing, community service-ing, honor roll student council kids.
The other center table is where the band kids sit. The entire band fits at one table; the only person missing is Jeoff. The other eleven of us sit at the table, discussing composers and drum corps. These are my cliques, if I have one.
I sit at leadership table today. Everyone is already here: Ariana, Jake, Jessie, Elle, and Skylar.
“Hey guys,” I say and put my stuff down by the chair left open between Ariana and Jake.
“Hey Ruby,” they all say, enthused.
“Thank god you’re here, I’m starving.”Ariana stands up and we start to walk towards the sandwich line. We always wait for each other to eat. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out. It’s a text message from my mom. I read it while I talk to Ariana.
“Sorry it took so long; I had to-” Someone bumps into me hard.
“Sorry!” I look up from my phone and see Janey Boyd, a girl I peer counseled last year.“Oh hey, Janey. How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks.” She smoothes her bangs back in front of her eyes (which are covered with black eyeliner).
“That’s good.” I smile, hoping she’ll do the same. She doesn’t. “Well, are you going to need a peer counselor again this year? I’m still free the same time as last year.”
“It’s cool, I’m doing okay now.” She bites on one of her fingernails. I notice that her black fingernail polish is chipped. I also notice she’s wearing the rainbow bangles on both wrists again.
“Are you sure?” I ask. I know this girl has a lot of problems, and she doesn’t really like to talk about them.
“Yeah.” She nods, but doesn’t make eye contact. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you around.”
“Okay, well my number is the same if you ever need anything.”
She doesn’t say anything else, just keeps walking.
“Weird,” Ariana says as we get in line.
“Yeah,” I mumble. I make a mental note to check up on Janey in a few weeks.
A few minutes later, I sit down with Ariana and my turkey sandwich. My friends are talking about what they have to do this week. It’s only the first week and already our schedules are full.
“I’ve got my community service today, peer counseling tomorrow, yearbook on Wednesday, writing club and student council on Thursday, and fencing on Friday.” Blake lists off everything he has for the week.
“Mine is the same,” I say in between bites of food. “Except I have soccer practice every day starting Wednesday. And, band on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“Gosh, we’re all going to die.” Jessie shakes her head. “Senior year is going to be the death of us.”
“It’s only the first day and I already feel dead.” Skylar flips his blonde hair out of his face.
“College can’t be this bad.” Elle swallows a drink of her green tea. “It’s gotta be better.”
“Well, we’re doing all of this for college,” I say. “So it will be worth it.” I hope it’s worth it.

********

My last class of the day is band. Our school is huge, but the band is small. Nobody really cares about the band here at Five Points, except for our parents, and most of them don’t even care. The Marching Boomers are twelve members strong this year. I get out to the field and everyone is there. Jeoff has strapped his snare drum on and is already warming up.
Our band has four brass members. Drew and Kyra are trumpet-playing twins. Seth plays trombone, and Corey plays tuba. None of them are exceptional players, although Drew tries hard to reach the top notes. We have four woodwinds. Cara plays flute, Brooke and Caroline play clarinet, and Kyle plays tenor saxophone. Jeoff is our only drummer, and Sasha and Michelle, the only freshmen, are our flags. I’m the drum major for the second year in a row, but I used to play clarinet.
I step up onto my drum major’s podium and look around at all of them. I’ve known most of them for half of my life or longer. They all stand on our freshly painted practice field, blowing notes and stretching. It is perfect marching weather; mid sixties in September. We’ve all been practicing since August though.
“Guys, go ahead and arc it up. Let’s get started.” I hold my hands up in position to let them know it’s time to start. They all stand in one small arc. I start the count off, Jeoff gives a few taps, and the sound starts.
Even though we are small, we know what we are doing. We run through our entire warm ups quickly. Mr. East, our director is still inside. I usually run most of our rehearsals.
“Go ahead and get in your first set,” I direct them. Our show this year has a cirque du soleil theme, and is really fun. Now that practice has started, I can forget about everything else and lose myself in the music.

*******

When the final bell rings, all hell breaks loose. Everyone runs around campus, talking to their friends, making plans for the day. Athletes get ready for their practices. Slackers race to the parking lot to get into their cars and head to the park a few blocks away to smoke.
I don’t have anyone to peer counsel since it’s the first day of the year, so I get to leave early. This is probably the only day out of the year I’ll be able to do so. I stand at my car, talking to Ariana and Blake about the student council meeting on Thursday.
“You guys want to go to Scoop’s and get a yogurt cup?” Blake asks. He’s an ice cream fanatic.
“I can’t.” I shake my head. “I’ve got to get home so I can pay the lawn people. Plus, the sitter bailed today, so I have to watch Max and Emma.”
“While planning the meeting?” Blake asks.
“And doing that Spanish homework?” Ariana adds.
“I can do it,” I assure them. “The meeting will be planned, the homework will be done.”
Our conversation is interrupted by a loud revving sound. We turn around and see Riley Sutton on his motorcycle. Evelyn Rhodes is sitting behind him, her arms gripped around his waist. He knows everyone is looking at him, prompting him to rev the engine again.
Riley is the bad boy at Five Points. He rides a motorcycle, smokes in the bathroom, and always has a girl on his arm. He’s beautiful. He has dark hair that falls just above his eyes, which are big and just as dark. He’s got a perfect body, perfect face, and the fact that he’s a complete jerk somehow makes him even hotter. I can see every girl drooling over him as he rides out of the parking lot without his helmet, a slight grin on his face.
“Gag me with a spoon,” Blake says with disgust. “Someone should knock that kid off of his high motorcycle.”
“Nice pun,” I say sarcastically. “I’ve got to go; Max and Emma will be home soon. A, I’ll Skype you tonight so we can do the Spanish homework.”
“Bye, love you,” they both say at the same time.
“I love you guys too.” I get in my car and pull out of my reserved spot.
The drive home is more chaotic than the drive to school. I get there right behind Mrs. Carter, who picks up Max and Emma from school every day, along with her own son.
“Hi, Misses Carter.” I park in the garage and walk up to her car. “Thank you for picking them up.”
“No problem, dear.” Mrs. Carter gets out too and opens the back door. “How was your first day of senior year?”
“It was great,” I assure her. “No complaints.”
“Ruby!” I hear Max and Emma scream once they are out of the car. They are twins, just turned six, and the brightest part of my day.
“Hi guys,” I say with just as much enthusiasm. “How was first grade?”
They both immediately start to talk at once, telling me all about their day. I smile and wave at Mrs. Carter and walk them inside.
“And then, Marcus ate the glue, even though I told him it was gross!” Emma finishes telling me a story about a boy in her class as we walk into the kitchen of our big house.
“Gross,” I agree with her. I pick each of them up and set them on one of the stools at our breakfast bar. “What do you guys want for a snack?”
“Carrots!” Max throws his hands in the air.
“Oreos!” Emma squeals.
I’m not surprised by either of their answers. I go to the refrigerator and pull out a jug of milk and a bag of carrot sticks, as well as a bottle of ranch dressing.
I pour two glasses of milk and put the ranch in a bowl. The Oreos are in our walk-in pantry. There is way too much food in here. I set the carrots and cookies out onto two plates and put them in front of the kids.
“Eat up,” I say with a smile.
“Thank you,” they both shout before devouring the food.
“Does anyone have homework?” I ask while nibbling on a carrot stick. Both of their arms shoot up. “Well, once you get done with your snack, we’ll have a homework party.”
“Can we watch SpongeBob Squarepants first?” Max pleads.
“In your dreams, buddy.” I ruffle his brown curls. “But if you hurry, we can catch the second episode.”
They scarf down their snacks and we sit down at the table in the corner of the kitchen. They pull everything out of their book bags, making sure to show me their artwork from the day. They are both in the advanced class (who knew first grade had advanced classes?), so their homework is the same.
I set out all of the parent forms for my mom to fill out and put them by the coffee pot, where I know she will see them. Once their homework is done, they go into the den and turn on the television. I sit back at the table, trying to focus on my calculus problems and not the laughs coming from the den. Max and Emma have the cutest laughs; they are contagious. I wish so badly that I could go back in time to when everything was so simple. I wish I could still see things the way they do.
My homework is interrupted by the doorbell. I hurry to the front door and see Crash standing there when I open it.
“Oh, hey Crash. I forgot you were coming!”
“That’s cool.” Crash shrugs. “We just finished up, everything looks good.” He points to the bushes in front of the porch.
“Okay, great.” I reach for the envelope my mom left on the chest in the foyer. “Here’s your check. Make sure Ricky gets his too.”
“Aren’t you going to invite us in for lemonade and pastries?” Crash smiles widely.
I roll my eyes. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Crash. Have a good night.” I start to close the door but he stops it with his hand.
“Come on, just one donut. I’m dying out here.”
I look past him and see Ricky standing at the bottom of the steps. “Alright.” I sigh. “But I’ll bring them to you, you guys stay out here.” Ricky is Manny Aviles’s older brother. The last thing I need is a gang member in our house around our expensive stuff.
I hurry into the kitchen and put a few cherry Danishes left over from this morning’s breakfast onto a paper plate. I scurry back to the front door and hand the plate to Crash.
“Jackpot,” he says happily.
“You’re welcome,” I say. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”I shut the door quickly and lock it.
Crash and Ricky come every two weeks to work on our lawn. They work for Samantha’s Dad’s landscaping company. I stop in the den to check on the twins, who are still staring at the television, before getting back to my homework.
A couple hours later, I hear the front door open and a rustling of grocery bags. More food.
“I’m home,” I hear my mom call from the foyer. A few seconds later, I hear the scurry of little feet across the hardwood floors. Then, they are all in the kitchen.
“What did you buy, Mommy?” Emma squeals in her high pitched voice.
“I just got a few things from the store, honey.” Mom pats Emma’s gold-brown hair.
“Did you get mint chocolate chip?” Max jumps up and down. I can already see the irritation in Mom’s face.
“Yes, I did. You can have some if you eat all of your spaghetti tonight.”
“Pah-sketti,” they both squeal. Spaghetti is their favorite, even if they can’t pronounce it yet.
“That’s right,” Mom sighs. “Now you two got watch your programs so Mommy can fix it.”
The twins run off giggling.
“Hey, Mom.” I look up from my homework and smile.
“Oh hey, Ruby.” She smiles back quickly and starts emptying the grocery bags. “How was school, honey?”
“It was good.” I take off my glasses and rub my face. “They already gave us a ton of homework, but other than that it was nice.”
“Did you enjoy doing the announcements?” She keeps talking while she puts the groceries away.
“It was okay. I think I’ll get better once I get more used to it. But band practice went really well, our show is—”
“Have you started your application for George Washington yet?” Mom cuts me off. She always does that as soon as I start talking about band.
“Not yet, Mom.” I sigh.
“You should start that soon.” She turns to look at me. “I want you to do it early. Not that there is any doubt that you’ll get in.”
“I know, Mom.”
Both of my parents went to George Washington University. I’m supposed to go there too. My Mom is an economics professor at Northwestern University. My dad is half Korean, and an oncologist. He studied pre-med there.  My parents are wealthy, but more importantly, they are well-educated. And they want the same for me. I don’t know if George Washington is really the school for me. But I know that it doesn’t matter. That’s where I’m going.
“I’m just reminding you.” She opens the fridge and looks over its contents. “Senior year is very important. We need to start thinking about your future.”
“Mom, we’ve been thinking about my future since I could walk.” I say it with a little more attitude than I’d planned, but she barely notices anyway. “I’ll have the application in on time. Don’t worry about it.”
“I know, honey.” She walks over to the table and pulls on a few of my curls. I really hate when people do that. “You’ve got everything under control. I don’t know why I’m even worrying about it.”
“That’s me. Under control.” I shrug. “I’ve got to finish this homework.” I point to my calculus book.
“Of course, honey. Let me know if I can help.” She pats my shoulder and walks off to start making dinner.

******

I finally finish all of my homework. I say goodbye to Ariana, who waves at me via webcam. It’s almost eleven and I am more than ready for bed. I climb in and turn off the lamp. The glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling make me feel like I’m drifting off into the night sky. Wouldn’t it be nice to just let go and float away? To lose control for just a second? If only that were possible. What if I don’t have it all under control? What happens if everything falls apart? It’s hard being the girl who’s always got to have it together.

What happens when I break?