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“Meelie, did you remember your lunch?”
“If you don’t know where to go, look for someone with a prefect badge, yeah? They’ll help you find your way.”
I wish they wouldn’t keep asking me so many questions. I know Dad and Papa are anxious and only trying to help, but they’re making me more nervous.
This is my first day at St. Mary’s Grammar School - or big school, as Grandma Spring and Nannie Sarah were calling it last weekend at lunch for Papa’s birthday. Most days, I’ll be taking the bus, but Dad and Papa insisted they drive me ‘for luck’ on my first day.
Honestly, they’re so soft; I’m 11 years old, nearly twelve. I can handle this.
Well.
I should be able to handle this.
Right?
I mean, out of my friends from primary who applied to St. Mary’s, none of them passed the entrance exam. Except me. This means I’m going to this big, scary new place on my own. When I heard this, I instantly wanted to turn it down, to just go to North Academy with my friends. To stick with what I know. But Dad and Papa were so proud when I got accepted, and even though they’d said it had to be my decision, I didn’t want to let them down.
So, I said I would go to St. Mary’s. Now that the day is finally here, though, I feel like I want to scream like Flossie when she still has the odd tantrum, shouting I’ve changed my mind, I’ve changed my mind over and over again.
Instead, I sink further back into my seat, making myself small as I drum my fingers on the shiny plastic panel of the door in trepidation of arriving at the school gates.
I guess I am more than a bit nervous. Lots of thoughts are racing through my mind as I chew the inside of my cheek: What if I don’t make any new friends? What if I’ve left a place where I was really happy, heading into the unknown, and it’s so much worse? What if all the girls are horrible? What if the food is gross?
Papa pulls our car to a stop in the carpark, and they both turn their heads to look at me.
“You okay, Meelz?” I hear Papa ask.
“It’s just… you know I don’t like change,” I whisper.
I suddenly feel very shy when I see the hugeness of the building ahead of me, one that I’m going to spend a lot of my time in for the next seven years.
Dad takes off his seatbelt and leans through the gap to take my hand in his. “That’s not a thing to worry about, though,” he tells me. “Change is a constant, sweetheart. It’s one thing in life we can be certain of.”
I nod in agreement; my Dad is so smart!
“We all face changes every day, Meelie Pops, it’s how you choose to act and let it influence your life that’s important. Don’t let negativity be in charge, promise me to always try and surround yourself with happiness, yeah? Whatever happiness looks like to you.”
“We’re so proud of you, Meelie Moo,” Papa joins in. “Becoming who you want to be in the world, you’re growing up so beautifully.”
He sniffs.
Oh no, I know what this means!
Dad and I look at each other, matching grins on our faces; we both know Papa is about to cry, but he would cry at the opening of a crisp packet, so this is not surprising.
Sure enough, I see a little tear roll down his freckled cheek. Dad lifts a tissue from his pocket. “Lucky I came prepared, yeah?” he says.
“Thanks, Char,” Papa manages to stutter through his tears. He sniffs again, this time into the tissue. “What Dad said about change being a constant - he’s right about that, by the way.”
“So what else is new?” Dad murmurs under his breath.
“Oi!” Papa admonishes, poking Dad in his ribs which makes me smile, as it always does when they start play-fighting.
Papa is chuckling in that deep laugh of his as he attacks any part of Dad’s body he can reach; Dad giggles, shouting at him to stop. Both of their eyes are shining as they stare at each other. They do this a lot. Little looks at each other with expressions I don’t fully understand, like they’re the only people in the room - or, in this instance, the car.
I know I should find it a bit ick that they are like this ‘cause, ya know, they’re old and they’re my parents …but it secretly makes me happy that they love each other so much.
“And it wasn’t me who said the quote about change, Meelie; that was Heraclitus,” Dad explains.
“Is that another one of your crusty old guys from ancient Greece?” I smirk, knowing that I’m very much poking the bear but it’s just such fun to wind him up like this.
At that comment, Dad does what I’ve heard Auntie Imogen in the past call a gay gasp. “Hold your tongue, Amelie Victoria!”
“Sorry, Dad!” I say, grinning as I get out of the car.
My nerves are still flitting around in my tummy like butterflies caught in a net; I lean across the seat to lift my brand new backpack and coat, closing the door firmly and stepping over to the open, front passenger seat window. Both Dad and Papa are smiling at me; I can tell they’re as nervous as I feel, but they’re putting on a brave face for my sake.
“Have a good day, baby, yeah?” Dad tells me, reaching his hand out to squeeze my arm. He rarely calls me baby anymore; my insides churn again with emotion.
I’m about to speak when Papa sniffs into his tissue again. “It feels like only yesterday she was a baby!”
I roll my eyes playfully, and I think I hear Dad say ‘fucks sake Nick ’ under his breath.
“Yeah, okay, I’ve got this!” I say, with a huge smile that is fooling no one.
“Yeah, you do!” Dad says. Papa nods along, tears in his eyes, and they both smile at me.
I turn away from our car, heading towards the main door of St Mary’s. I don’t dare look back, though, as I’m certain my shaky legs would be running back to the sanctuary of my parents at the first opportunity if I did. Also, Papa is likely crying properly now, and Dad didn’t look too strong either.
Yeah, on second thoughts, maybe I should just let them have this moment to themselves and not go back.
I walk through the school gates with my head down, pretending that some of the other pupils around me aren’t nearly the height of adults. They’re so loud and confident, and it’s making me feel so small… and a little bit lost.
I finally reach the main door and pull it open. Someone has stuck a sign on the wall that reads ‘Year 7 Welcome Assembly’ with a big arrow on it, so I gratefully start moving in that direction. I’ve barely made it ten steps, though, when I hear a screech to my left.
“Hi Hi!” the chirpy voice says, and I look over to see a girl with a round face and glasses leaning against the wall, her space buns bobbing as she throws her hand up in a friendly, if not slightly awkward, greeting.
I’ve decided I like this girl already; I can see the energy just fizzing out of her pores. It seems like she’s going to combust, she’s just so…peppy.
“What’s your name?” Peppy Girl asks. “I’m Jen, it’s my first day here, too. I like your shoes, they’re like dance shoes or something, right? Do you dance? OOOH!” She claps her hands together three times rapidly and continues speaking without taking a breath. “They’d look so cute with rainbow laces in them, I wanted rainbow laces in my shoes but my Mum said they weren’t ‘school regulation’” - she does little air quotes at this, her eyes rolling - “and I would be best not to get in trouble on my very first day or something. Also, your curly hair is so pretty, I wish I had curly hair, but mine is just -”
She suddenly stops talking and clamps her hand over her mouth, as though trying to control herself; I can see her eyebrows disappear under her heavy blonde fringe as she looks at me apologetically. “Sorry, I talk a lot when I’m nervous. I know I’m too much sometimes -”
“You’re not,” I interrupt her. “I think you’re fun.”
“Oh…okay, that’s good. Want to be my friend? I don’t know anyone else coming to St Mary’s, and I promise I’m not always this cringe.” She grins at me, shuffling her backpack on her shoulders as she pushes herself off the wall; I spot a tiny little enamel pin on the strap, a unicorn with a pink mane.
I giggle. “Yeah, please, I don’t know anyone here either. All my other friends from primary school went to North Academy.”
“Samesies! So what IS your name, curly girl?”
I giggle again. “Amelie.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
“Thank you. Yeah, my Dad is half French, so my parents wanted to give me a French name.”
She squeaks. “That’s SO fetch!”
I frown at her. “So what ?”
“Oh, it’s from this really great old film called Mean Girls, have you seen it?”
I'm about to reply that no, I haven’t seen it, but I’ve heard my Papa reference it - something about the number four and Glen Coco - when a loud noise interrupts us both. We turn to see the assembly hall doors open, and I feel that lump in my throat come back.
I’m so nervous.
“You okay, Amelie?” I hear Jen ask.
I glance over to see her big green eyes staring back at me. I can tell she’s worried, too; her earlier sparkle has diminished a little.
“Not really,” I whisper, staring at the ground. “I just don’t know what to expect.”
“Me neither,” she whispers back. I feel her arm slip through the crook of my elbow. “Want to find out together?”
I look up and nod, and we smile at each other as we link arms.
“Well, let me tell you about my name,” she says theatrically, her sparkle having returned alarmingly fast. “My parents wanted to call me Jade, but then in the hospital, when they were waiting for my Mum to give birth, my Dad brought this book to read that had a princess in it…”
I grin when she drags me into the hall along with a swarm of other kids, jabbering away, as we look for two chairs together.
Jen talks a lot, like, a LOT a lot, but I like her; she seems fun, and kind, and really, really nice. She is exactly the kind of friend I need right now in my life.
Maybe big school will still be scary.
Maybe I’ll still feel shy, a little bit lost in a big group, like I don’t have a place that I belong.
Maybe I won’t like the new things I’ve been brave enough to try.
But for now, being here with Jen’s arm linked through mine, this feels… so right. As Dad says, change is good. It’s what I do with it that’s important.