Day number two. It’s already a lot easier than yesterday. The school's façade is still depressing, but it’s not hiding the unknown. I know what the building looks like inside and where my locker is. I know where to go.

Not that I need to navigate the corridors by myself because Lena is waiting for me by the entrance, her warm happy smile still on her face. “Are you still on babysitting duty?”

“Yes. Four more days before freedom.” She fake-rolls her eyes.

“Honestly, you don’t have to do that though,” I offer. “I think I can manage.”

“I really don’t mind,” she replies. “Unless it’s your polite way of asking me to get lost, in which case, I can make myself scarce.”

“No, no. You’re like… the buoy preventing me from drifting away in all of the new stuff thrown at me. Or, you know, something less dramatic. But I don’t want to be a burden.”

She looks at me with an amused smile. “Boy, I really hope you tag along for more than a week. You’re quite entertaining, aren’t you?” She leads me inside and I try not to look too pleased. What she said warmed me up from the inside. I like her, and she likes me. I might have made a friend already.

Maybe I’m not just an awkward loser that ruins everything he touches after all. Maybe this place will allow me to reinvent myself and not screw things up this time.

Lena scavenges through the messiest locker I’ve ever seen, talking about an art exhibit she would like to see in town. It sounds interesting, but I’m not sure if she’s making small talk or casually inviting me. I don’t know her enough to invite myself.

“So?” she finally asks.

“So what?”

“Do you want to go?” Oh. I guess she was inviting me after all. “You don’t have to,” she adds. “But I thought it might be fun. Plus, I don’t really know who else to ask. Austin, Noah, and Sara would accompany me, but they’re not really into art.”

While I already know Noah and Austin, I’m not entirely sure who Sara is.

“I’d love to go,” I tell her.

The smile that spreads on her face is genuine.

“Oh, William, I’m so glad you joined this school,” she exclaims as she shuts her locker. A couple things are bound to fall the next time she opens that door.

“Thanks, but it’s just Will actually. It’s not that I prefer Will; it’s literally not short for anything. My mom often jokes that my dad got too lazy to fill out the paperwork properly.”

“Which is why you shouldn’t let men do important things,” she replies with a wink. I’ve always been a bit awkward socially around new people, so I’m pretty sure it’s a joke, but I wouldn’t bet my life on it. I’m saved from deciding if I should tease her back by the morning bell. “Okay,” she says with a mischievous smile, “I won’t guide you in any way. Take us to homeroom.”

I can do this.

I think.

Today, I have calculus. I love everything that has to do with math. It isn’t my happy place, but numbers speak to me. I love logic and the fact that there most often is a correct answer. I wouldn’t go as far as saying that I always find it easy, but even when it’s challenging, I thrive in it.

Also, it’s nice to be good at something. Especially something that most people label as impressive, useful, or difficult.

When I enter the room, the teacher looks at me with wary eyes. Math teachers always assume that their students are going to be a disappointment for some reason. I’m not worried because he’ll love me as soon as I hand in perfect scores. However, I’m unsure whether the feeling is going to be mutual because my previous teacher was a genius with a lot of character. I don’t think anyone could compare, but we’ll see.

At lunch, all of the polite timidity from Lena’s friends is gone, replaced by a pack mentality. I’m not completely new anymore, so they’re not obligated to make me feel comfortable and welcome anymore. Their new focus is to know stuff about me.

The questions are basic. What do my parents do? What music do I like? Is drawing my only hobby? Do I plan on joining the baseball team… But some questions hide very complicated answers.

Do I have siblings? No. That’s the easy answer, which is technically the truth. So that’s what I answer. It’s what they want to hear, too. People prefer to hear the simple truth rather than the real, complex one.

Was it hard to leave your friends? A bit, although we still message and FaceTime. Again, that’s an elusive answer because I haven’t been in contact with any of my friends since I moved. I haven’t even spoken to my best friend since I’m sure he hates me now. Maybe he’s relieved that I moved away.

Did you leave a girl back home? No, I didn’t. I truly didn’t leave anyone home. Although they all seem like nice people, we’re still not familiar with one another. I don’t know much about this school, this community, this city… I don’t know if I could tell them that had I left someone back home, it wouldn’t have been a girl.

English goes a bit better today. I found the book in one of our still unpacked boxes. While I didn’t have time to read it to the end, I was able to go through a few pages, so at least now I can follow the teacher’s lecture.

I am, however, not very focused today. The conversation from lunch keeps spinning in my head, my mind going back and forth between Matt and Peter. I thought moving away would help me forget Matt, or at least let me put aside Peter.

Just because something isn’t a part of your daily life doesn’t mean it will just goes away. Actually, it might linger longer because you can’t get closure.