Middle School Jitters
Middle School Jitters
By Camilla Wu
First Prize Winner, 2016-2017 Young Writer’s Story Contest
Download a PDF of Middle School Jitters.
Was I the only one, or did anyone else have an aversion to Mondays? That was exactly how I felt on the first day of middle school—on a Monday.
I reluctantly trudged down the staircase to breakfast, letting the dread pull over me. Why couldn’t it be summer vacation forever? Not only that, why did school have to start on a Monday? So far, I had accidently tripped over my slippers on my way to the closet, my first-day-of-school clothes were missing for some peculiar reason, I was having a bad hair day (yes, it was a total bird’s nest), and now I wasn’t excited at all. Today was just NOT my day.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved school. Pinkie swear. It just happened that school on a Monday was NOT making it so enthralling. At all.
“Clara, I made your favorite chocolate-chip pancakes for breakfast to get you excited for middle school. It might be rough, but you’ll make it out alive!” my mom cheered as I stepped into the kitchen.
Sorry, Mom! But your cheerfulness could never be enough to make ME cheerful. Not that I would ever say that out loud, of course.
She handed me a plate of my favorite pancakes with a dollop of whipped cream resting on top. Yum! Yes, it indeed was my favorite. But because it was served on a tedious Monday, I was totally losing my appetite.
I slouched in my chair. How would I ever get over my problem? Unfortunately, my mother noticed my reaction to this, for she stared and stared and stared at me. Ugh. I hated it when people tried to burn two incredulous-looking eyes into your face.
“Clara, what is wrong with you? Why aren’t you eating your pancakes? I’m worried,” Mom said.
“I’m fine, Mom,” I answered. “It’s just…I’m not ready for nine months of middle school. Plus, you know I hate Mondays.”
My mother sighed. “You’ll just have to live with it,” was all she said.
Seriously? That did not help much. I wished I could talk to my other parent, Dad, since he understood me in and out. At least more than my mom. Right? Yes.
Luckily, my dad was really good at turning lemon into lemonade. But UNLUCKILY, he was not home at this point. He worked as a doctor at the hospital and had to leave early each morning for his patients.
I briskly wolfed down my pancakes. Mmm! The whipped cream and chocolate melting in my mouth tasted like heaven! My mom was a very talented cook. She even owned a bakery in town and I went there every day (even when I had school) unless I was terribly sick. Who wouldn’t want to snack on a cupcake or cookie once in a while?
Believe it or not, the breakfast actually cheered me up a little. I guessed I just got super cranky when I was hungry.
I set my plate and silverware in the sink, grabbed my backpack, said a farewell to my mom, and barged out the door. Middle school, here I come!
After the long bus ride to school, I went straight to homeroom. My homeroom teacher, Mrs. Myers, welcomed us all to sixth grade at Middle School Academy. I spotted my best friend, Amy, talking to a girl next to her. They were chatting away like old friends. Weird. I thought I was her best friend. Shouldn’t she be talking to me? Grrrr. I guess I was a little jealous. Okay, I was VERY jealous.
Why? Amy acted like I was a stranger the whole morning. At the bus stop, she did not talk to me. On the bus, she didn’t sit with me. Instead, she sat with her “new buddy.” I waved to her in the halls, but she was busily talking to THAT girl.
Everyone else seemed really excited. Did I? Not at all. I mean, I was glad Amy was with me, but her actions did not show that her MIND was really with me.
Everything went okay and the same for each and every one of my remaining classes. The welcomes, the rules, and what we were going to learn this year were the main topics.
At lunch, I decided to talk to Amy. What was she doing? You guessed it! Chatting with the girl.
I plopped my lunch tray down in front of them and said, “What’s up?”
They turned to look at each other like I was a jerk. Amy shrugged. “Not much,” she replied.
Okaaaaay! Now that did not sound so friendly. What was wrong with her? Amy and I had known each other since kindergarten. It was as if middle school switched on a button for her to dump me for whomever this girl was!!!
“I can’t talk to you now, Clara,” Amy said. “Tara and I are in the middle of a conversation.”
How dared she talk to me so insolently?
I reached my boiling point. “Fine, Amy! You,” I growled,” and I should no longer be friends. I don’t need enemies.”
With that, I stormed off—mad. I was seriously sick and tired of middle school! Blame it on a Monday.
This was clearly the worst day ever—a day I would never forget.