(words in bold are Emily's journal entries)
You know the whole "life is fair vs. life is not fair" argument? Well, it's a dumb argument. Life is just…life. Some things that happen in life are fair and some are not. Take my life for example. It was fair that Dad got a nice paying job in New York City but it wasn't fair that he started sleeping with his secretary. How cliché was that? Anyway, it was fair that Mr. Mid-Life Crisis got an STD but it wasn't fair that my mom found out and started drinking. It was fair that the slutty secretary was fat for nine months but it wasn't fair that the twins got stuck with crappy parents. It was fair that my mother divorced Dad but it wasn't fair that the court granted him custody. So, you see? Life's just life and that's the way it is and there is nothing anyone can do about it.
"What are you working on?" Michelle asked. "Yeah." Her twin sister added, "School hasn't even started yet. What are you writing?" "Nothing." I mumbled and stuffed my journal back into my bag. We were sitting in the back of Dad's newest investment, an imported silver sports car with tinted windows. He was driving, of course, and Cathy was riding shotgun. She turned around and smiled at me, "Sweetie, enjoy these last few minutes of freedom. Don't waste them on work, ok?" I rolled my eyes then glanced out the window at the tall buildings whizzing by in a blur, "It's not work. I like to journal. Writing is fun." Dad looked at me through the rear view mirror, "Listen to your mom. This is the big senior year. Try to have some fun with it; get involved, make some friends, meet some boys." Michelle and Mandy giggled. Dad's whole statement was a waste on me. For starters, that home wrecker will never be my mother. There is nothing at school I want to be involved in, I've tried to get friends but I just can't do it, and boys seem to be on a different plane of existence.
By now we were at the school. Mandy and Michelle hopped out of the car. This was their first year at the same school as me. Cathy rolled down her window to snap a quick picture of the twins with her phone. I gathered up my stuff and got out too, fixed the skirt of my uniform, and closed the door. "Bye, kiddos!" Dad called, as I made my way to the school with Mandy and Michelle following behind. The girls yelled "bye" and I just waved in that general direction.
When we got inside, I walked the girls to their first class. It took awhile since, every time they saw someone they knew, they had to stop and talk. This made me late to my class.
"Ah, Miss Carson. So glad you could join us. Did you get lost?" the teacher said when I walked in. "No." I grumbled then sat down at the first available desk; it was next to a girl who smelled like she had taken a bath in Chanel #5. I mean, it's good stuff, but too much of a good thing is bad.
After the teacher changed his attendance sheet, he wrote his name on the board, "I am Mr. Johnson. You will address me as 'sir'. I have seen many of your before, wandering around as underclassmen. Now, you are seniors. I expect maturity and hard work from all of you. On a more informal note, we have a new student with us. Young man would you please stand?"
A guy in the front stood. He was very good-looking; a nice build and brown hair that was kind of on the shaggy side with some of the strands hanging in his eyes. "Hello, sir." The new guy said in a strong British accent, and then he stepped forward to shake Mr. Johnson's hand, "James Watson." Mr. Johnson replied, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Watson. You're father tells me you're a very skilled student. I expect good things from you." "Yes, sir." James answered. "Good." Mr. Johnson commented, "You may be seated." James sat back down.
The rest of class time was spent starting our first chapter in our U.S. Government book. Many girls kept asking James if he needed help, but he turned them all down.
In the last five minutes of class, we did introductions. We each had to stand, say our name, favorite extracurricular activity, and favorite part of our summer. James, however, did not have to go since he had already been introduced to the class. On my turn I said my name, of course, that I like to write, and I enjoyed spending time with my mom. I didn't go in to detail about that.
The rest of my classes I got to on time. And, everywhere I went, I heard about James. He wasn't in any of my other classes, just lunch. The school was flowing with information on the new student. At lunch, he sat with some boys who were on the school's soccer team. When I passed their table, I heard one of the guys ask him if he knew David Beckham. I actually got a chuckle out of that. I kept on walking and found myself an empty table near the back of the cafeteria. The girls at the table next to me were talking about James. One of them told the others that James's father was U.K. Ambassador and his family had moved here for his job. I have no idea if that was true, but by the end of the day I knew I was tired of hearing about James Watson.