The cafeteria buzzes with energy, a cacophony of laughter and chatter that feels overwhelming as I step inside. My stomach growls, a reminder that I need to eat, but the thought of navigating the crowded tables makes me hesitate. I scan the room, looking for my siblings or Sloane, but they’re nowhere to be seen. They all have different lunch periods, leaving me to fend for myself.
“Just one lunch,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head as I grab a tray and move through the line. The smell of pizza and mashed potatoes wafts through the air, mixing with the scent of fruit and cookies. I grab the essentials—some pizza, a carton of milk, and a piece of fruit—before heading to the back of the room, searching for an empty table.
Finding one in the corner, I sit down, grateful for the small bubble of solitude. I pull out my lunch, setting it down in front of me, and take a moment to breathe, letting the noise of the cafeteria fade into the background. It’s nice to have a little peace, even if it’s only for a few minutes.
As I take a bite, I hear footsteps approaching. I look up, half-expecting to see one of the lunch monitors or another student looking for a seat. To my surprise, it’s Finn, the kid from homeroom, with a tray in hand and a friendly smile.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks, sliding into the seat across from me.
“Uh, sure,” I reply, a bit taken aback. I didn’t expect to have company.
Finn sets his tray down, then leans in slightly. “So, how’s your first day going so far?”
I shrug, trying to find the right words. “It’s… alright, I guess. A bit overwhelming, but not terrible.”
“I get that,” he says, taking a bite of his pizza. “It was the same for me when I started here last year. Lots of new faces and a whole new vibe. So, you have any siblings?”
“Yeah, I’ve got five,” I answer, feeling a hint of pride in my voice. “Eden’s a senior, Elijah’s a junior, and I have three younger sisters, Elizabeth and Esther, and a little sister named Eve.”
“Wow, that’s a big family!” Finn exclaims, leaning back in his chair. “How do your parents keep track of all of you?”
“I guess they just… manage. They’re pretty organized,” I say, thinking of how Mom keeps everything in order, like a well-tuned machine. “And they’re good at delegating. We all have our chores and responsibilities.”
“Cool,” Finn says, nodding. “So, what was it like at the alternative school? I heard it can be pretty different.”
I take a moment to think, memories of the small classes and the close-knit environment flooding back. “It was nice, actually. The classes were smaller, and the teachers were really understanding. They helped me a lot with my, um, issues. It was kind of like a safe space.”
“Safe spaces are good,” he agrees, a serious look on his face. “Do you think it was helpful?”
“Definitely,” I reply, feeling a swell of gratitude. “I had some rough patches, but they helped me work through a lot of it. I just hope I can handle it here.”
Finn studies me for a moment, then nods. “You’ll be fine. It just takes time to adjust. So, what’s with all the ‘E’ names in your family? Eden, Elijah, Elizabeth… and then there’s you.”
I chuckle, surprised by the question. “Yeah, I get that a lot. My parents decided to stick to ‘E’ names for the kids. I got stuck with Ezekiel because my dad likes the name.”
“But why Zig?” he asks, leaning in with interest.
I smile, remembering the stories Mom told. “When I was born, Eden was only two. She couldn’t say Ezekiel, and they tried to get her to say Zeke, but she refused. So, Zig just sort of happened. It stuck.”
“Zig is a cool nickname,” Finn says with a grin. “I think it suits you. It’s unique.”
“Thanks,” I reply, feeling a warm blush creep up my cheeks. “I like it too.”
Finn glances around the cafeteria, then leans closer. “So, any of your siblings redheaded like you? You’ve got quite the carrot top, man.”
I laugh, running a hand through my hair. “Nope, just me. All my siblings have brown hair, except for my little sister Eve. She’s got blonde hair like my mom. But I guess I’m the odd one out.”
“Red is awesome, though,” Finn says. “It stands out. Plus, you can totally rock it.”
“Thanks, I guess,” I say, feeling a bit more comfortable. Finn’s easygoing nature helps ease the tension in my chest, and I start to relax as we chat about our favorite bands and classes.
Before I know it, lunch is almost over. “I’m glad you came over,” I say, taking a final sip of my milk. “I was worried I’d be sitting here all alone.”
Finn grins, a twinkle in his eyes. “Not a chance! You’re stuck with me now. We’re gonna get through this year together, Zig.”
The school day finally comes to a close, and as I step out into the warm Georgia sun. My head buzzes with all the new faces, names, and information I’ve been trying to absorb. It’s exhausting, like I just ran a marathon, and all I want now is to sink into the couch and close my eyes for a bit.
When I get home, the familiar scent of dinner wafts through the air, mixing with the faint smell of freshly cut grass from outside. The house is alive with the sounds of my siblings. I can hear Eden arguing with Elijah about something trivial, and Eve’s laughter carries through the hall. It’s comforting, but the energy feels overwhelming right now.
I shuffle into the living room, where I find Mom sprawled out on the couch, flipping through a magazine. She looks up and smiles when she sees me. “Hey there, Ziggy! How was your first day?”
“Exhausting,” I admit, letting my backpack slide off my shoulder and thud onto the floor. I flop down on the couch next to her, sinking into the cushions with a sigh. “I’m so tired.”
She chuckles, reaching over to ruffle my hair. “But you survived, right?”
“Barely.” I close my eyes for a moment, trying to drown out the noise of the house. “What about you? How was work today?”
Mom stretches her arms above her head and lets out a contented sigh. “It was a busy day at the hospital. We had a surgery this morning—a little girl, only six. She needed a procedure to correct a congenital heart defect.”
I crack an eye open, intrigued. “What was it like?”
She leans forward, her expression turning serious. “It’s always nerve-wracking, but when you see the children and their families come in, it reminds you why we do what we do. She was scared, but once we got her into the operating room, she was brave. It’s a bit scary, but once she was asleep, everything went smoothly.”
“Did she come out okay?” I ask, my heart tightening a bit at the thought of a little girl in pain.
“Yes, she did. The surgery went well. I think she’ll be okay,” Mom replies, a proud smile forming on her lips. “That’s the best part of my job, knowing I’m helping these kids. They’re so strong, Zig. You’d be amazed at how resilient they are.”
“That’s awesome,” I say, feeling a swell of admiration for her. “I’m glad you’re there to help them.”
Mom gives me a gentle nudge. “You know, you’re a little resilient yourself. Today was a big step for you. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, warmth creeping up my cheeks. “It wasn’t easy, but Finn helped. He’s in my homeroom and sat with me at lunch.”
“Finn, huh? Sounds like a good friend,” she replies, her eyes sparkling with interest. “What’s he like?”
“He’s pretty cool. He’s laid-back and asks a lot of questions about my family,” I say, shrugging. “He thinks it’s funny that all my siblings have ‘E’ names, and he likes my hair.”
Mom laughs softly, the sound soothing. “You’ve got a lot to be proud of, Zig. And friends who appreciate you for who you are are important.”
I nod, feeling the exhaustion seep out of my bones. “I just hope I can keep up with everything. Sometimes it feels like a lot.”
She puts a hand on my shoulder, her touch warm and reassuring. “Take it one step at a time. You don’t have to do it all at once. Remember, it’s okay to ask for help, whether it’s from your family or friends. You’re not alone in this.”
“I know,” I reply, my voice quiet. “It’s just... hard sometimes. I worry about messing up.”
“You won’t mess up. You’re doing great,” she assures me. “Just keep being yourself, and everything else will fall into place. I promise.”
Feeling her confidence in me gives me a boost, and I lean back against the couch, letting my eyes flutter closed for a moment. The warmth of the afternoon sun seeps through the window, and I allow myself to relax.
“Thanks, Mom,” I whisper, feeling a swell of gratitude. “For everything.”
“Always, Ziggy,” she replies softly, her voice a gentle balm as I drift off into a light nap, the sounds of my family fading into a comforting hum.
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