Letter about Clark Magnet (as of yet)

Dear Whoever It Is That May Be Reading This,

I personally dislike being 100% formal when writing letters (because that’s what robots do, and I, for one, am not a robot), so I shall not be writing in that style for the majority of this letter.

It makes me feel limited and somewhat stiff (though perhaps a better word would be “fake”), if that makes any sense. Plus, if I just talk to you as if I am really here, I believe the story will be more fluid. More realistic. (And it should be realistic, because I’m going to write down things that did happen to me.) However, perhaps you do prefer the “proper” (nicer way of saying “boring”) way of writing letters, to which I say: MWAHHAHAI’MTHEONEINCONTROLHERE — Okay, onto the subject!

The purpose of this letter (which is, honestly at least 90 percent meant for myself) is to talk about my first two days at Clark Magnet High School; so I shall start with my retelling of the first day.

The first day was amazing…ly harsh. Yeah. A bit more rough than what I would’ve liked and expected. I skipped all of snack and part of lunch just sort of hanging outside of the office, immensely clueless of what I was to do, trying to build up enough courage to go in, but only succeeding in tumbling back down. (I did go inside, just once, but that turned out to be a dead-end and I felt even more awkward at the thought of coming back just to ask another thing.)

Soon I began sort of… beating myself up on the inside because it seemed like everyone else was doing just fine, and knew what to do. And then there was me, just… simply standing there. I must’ve looked like I was stalking the office, or something.

I know I most likely wasn’t the only one confused; there must’ve been other freshmen wandering around (this was the first day of school, after all), but of course, my brain did not listen and I waited for an answer that did not intend to arrive.

All right, that first day was depressing. I assure you, the second day was much more sunshine and rainbows (and will be continued in multiple paragraphs). Though it did feel almost as long as the first day; I’m not sure why. I mean, I had more control then (but now I think back on that second day with my disgracefully bad memory, I was just meeting my second set of teachers for the first time, so, uh. Mystery solved?).

Moving on, during either snack or lunch, I think some guy tried to flirt with me. On the second day of school. On the freaking second day of school are you kidding me? (Also, emphasis on tried, hah.) I have no idea, man, like I was minding my own business (munching on my goldfish crackers) when some dude decides to sit a little too close for my liking.

Okay, sure, he wasn’t that close to me, but he was still a stranger. And most strangers won’t sit as close to each other as he did to me. I was a bit uncomfortable, but I brushed it off because, hey, maybe society decided to change when I wasn’t looking (and I rarely ever look, or care, so).

He asked me a question, something about homework, then… he asks for my number???? Like, dude, I don’t know much about dating, have never dated and never will date, but I don’t think that’s how dating works???? (But what do I know about dating? Nothing.) Also, please note, I had my head down and made no eye contact with him all throughout the conversation. In other words, he didn’t even know how my face looked like, for the love of Jesus Christ!! He left soon after he realized I wasn’t planning on answering. (Mom told me to never talk to strangers.) Then he came back (Urghhh), because he (“at least”) wanted some of my goldfish. (Wait, what.)

Okay, so a fun fact about me is that I’m sort of a pushover when it comes to stuff that won’t affect me negatively over a minute, so I was planning to give him some. (Dating equals forcing myself to love some stranger guy over a day versus give him some goldfish equals he leaves and hopefully never bothers me again for as long as I live.) But, but, he actually tried to take some without my answer. As in, reach inside my plastic bag. Yeah, just like those jerk people who say “Can I borrow this?” and, boom, they take whatever before you say anything at all and they could not care less about what you think. I hate those grabby people. (I realize “hate” is a strong word, but it was the correct word for this situation.) And it seems he was one of them.

Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked here. Point is, I was gonna give him some of my goldfish but when he reached for it himself, I flinched back. I am not a fan of physical contact, more so with strangers that begin talking to me for no clear reason. (I’m actually surprised I was able to flinch as soon as I did. My reflexes are as slow as snails, man.) He took this as a no, said “Fine, jeez,” and walked off. I felt slightly guilty for a bit, but now I’m like: “Bah! That guy totally deserved it. (Grabby people need to learn their lessons.)”

..Welp, that was an interesting… preview of Clark Magnet. Still, it doesn’t seem like a bad school (two days are not enough to judge such a big place).

From (because I am too cool to write “Sincerely”),

Jacqueline Yi