"This is only a test. Nothing's set in stone."
My mother's words circle around and around in my brain as I bend my leg at the knee and raise my foot onto the curb, feeling like every time I take a step, my whole body gets heavier. I can see the flag getting pulled tight by the wind way up at the top of the flag pole next to the school building, and it emphasizes the feeling of tardiness I've had rolling around in my stomach since I woke up at precisely 8:53 this morning, twenty minutes after I was supposed to be at school. Not only has the morning long begun for everyone inside the school, and I'm the one showing up an hour late, but all their school careers have long begun, and I'm the one arriving eleven years late. It's my first day attending an actual school, after being home schooled my whole life. My mother has always told me she kept me out of school because she wanted me to see the world, but I know the real reason behind all the travelling we've done is that she's always been scared of getting settled anywhere. She's afraid of real life, so any time things get too complicated, she starts over somewhere else. There are little beginnings of normal family lives that we've left behind all over Europe and Africa. The hardest to part with was Italy. I really could have lived in that ocean side city speckled with orange trees and woven together by tiny alleyways for the rest of my life and never felt trapped. The chilly breeze now snaking around my bare ankles only reminds me how much I'd rather be back there instead of where I am now. But I haven't really had much of a say lately since my mom met Craig and announced she and I would be moving in with him four months later. The only comforting thing I've been told is that this high school thing is only a test. Nothing's set in stone. But I'm trying not to focus too much on the option I have to back out if it all goes horribly wrong because I want it to work. As much as I'd be perfectly content with finishing school on my own, preferably in my pyjamas out on the porch in Italy with a mug of hot coffee resting on my chair arm, I can tell my mother is happy with Craig, and I have a feeling that even if my attending school isn't set in stone yet, their commitment to each other is.
So, I step forward from the curb and begin making my way toward the school's front doors. By the time I've grasped my fist around the smooth metal handle and given it a good yank, my heart is beating so hard that I can just about feel it hitting my back teeth. There's no point in delaying going inside any longer, because I'm already incredibly late for my first day, so I shuffle on in, wipe my feet carefully on the long black mat, already covered in September leaves from every other pair of feet that walked in on time, inhale my first ever lung full of that school-ish scent, and pray hard that I don't throw up.
This is only a test. Nothing's set in stone.
