"If I may ask, how do we really know who we are? People often speak about finding their identity, like it's a place you can reach, a final destination. But the truth is, identity isn't something you find—it's something that's shaped, molded by the world around you. Every interaction, every look, every word leaves a mark. Some marks are gentle, others cut deep.
You can be told who you are by those who see only the surface—the color of your skin, the way you talk, or where you come from. And for a long time, I believed that. I let others define me by their assumptions, their stares, their whispers. I tried to fit into a world that wasn't made for me, one that wanted me to be invisible unless I was the object of their scrutiny.
But the hardest part of belonging is realizing that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, some people will never accept you. Society has a way of reminding you of your place, reminding you of the differences that set you apart."
I stared out of the car window, watching the fields and houses zoom by. Everything looked so peaceful, like a picture from one of those postcards Mum kept in a drawer somewhere. "Are you ready, Miles?" Mum's voice brought me back to the car, and I looked up to see her eyes on me in the rear-view mirror, her smile soft and reassuring.
"Yeah, I'm ready!" I said, giving her a thumbs up. I tried to sound confident because that's what Mum always said—if you believe you can do it, then you can! But inside, my stomach was doing flips like I was on a roller coaster.
Mum smiled back, but I could tell she was a little nervous too. This was new for both of us. "Good. You've got your timetable? And your pencil case? Everything you need?"
I nodded enthusiastically, patting my backpack. "Yep, all set!" I wasn't lying; I had double-checked everything three times this morning. I didn't want to be the kid who forgot something on the first day.
She pulled over just before the path that led to the school. "Okay, Miles. Remember, just be yourself. You're going to do great, and you'll make new friends in no time. You've got this."
I opened the car door, hopping out onto the pavement. "Thanks, Mum! I'll see you after school!" I gave her a big wave as she drove away, then turned to face the path ahead. The school was just down the road, and I could already see other kids heading in the same direction.
Oh, man! There are so many people! This is so different from primary... My heart started racing again as I looked around. I didn't know anyone here, and everyone seemed to already be in groups, talking and laughing like they'd been friends forever. But Mum's voice echoed in my head—just be yourself—so I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and started walking. I'll be okay. I can do this!
As I walked through the main path leading to the school entrance, the sound of chatter filled the air. Kids were everywhere, some running off the school buses, others hanging around in groups. I tried not to let it get to me, but it was hard not to feel a bit out of place. Everyone seemed so... confident.
I took a deep breath and kept going, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. The school building loomed ahead, much bigger than my old primary school. It looked serious, like one of those places where important things happened. But I wasn't going to let that scare me. Not today.
Just as I was reaching the gates, a teacher was standing there, yelling at everyone to hurry inside. "Come on, get moving! You don't want to be late on your first day!" He sounded strict, but there was something almost playful about it like he was trying to scare us a little bit, but not too much.
The Year 7s around me started running, and I joined in, not wanting to be the odd one out. The bell rang loudly, and suddenly it felt like everything was moving too fast. Where am I supposed to go? My heart was pounding now. I didn't know where to start, and the timetable in my hand might as well have been in another language.
I looked around, trying to figure out what to do. I spotted a teacher nearby—a tall, bald man with glasses—and hurried over to him. He looked like he knew everything, so maybe he could help.
"Excuse me, sir," I said, trying to sound as polite as possible. "I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go. Can you help me?"
He looked down at me over his glasses, his expression annoyed. "You should have read your timetable properly, young man. It was all in the letter you received in the post. Now, hurry along; you don't want to be late."
"But—" I started to say, but he was already walking away, leaving me standing there feeling even more lost. Okay, great. Now what?
I glanced around again, my confidence slipping a bit. Everyone else seemed to know where they were going. I caught sight of a group of kids heading down a hallway and decided to follow them. Maybe they're going to the same place I am...
I trailed after them, keeping my distance so I wouldn't look like I was copying them. They turned into a classroom, and I hesitated for just a second before slipping in behind them. I found a seat near the back and sat down, pulling out my pencil case and trying to look like I knew what I was doing.
But as I looked up, I noticed that the other kids weren't doing the same. Instead, they were staring at me, whispering to each other, and smirking like they knew something I didn't.
"Why's he sitting here? Isn't he too small for Year 8?" I heard one of the boys whisper, loud enough for others to hear.
"Shh, don't tell him," another kid said with a snicker. "Let's see how long it takes him to figure it out."
"Maybe he's just lost," a girl murmured, but her tone wasn't sympathetic; it was teasing like she was in on some big joke.
My face started to feel hot, and I ducked my head, focusing on my pencil case like it was the most fun thing in the world.
Why are they staring at me like that? I wondered, trying not to let it bother me. One boy, sitting a few seats away, looked like he was about to say something, but another kid from the back of the room interrupted him with a sharp, "Shut up!" The first boy's mouth snapped shut, and the others started laughing, trying to keep it quiet but failing miserably.
What's going on? Did I do something wrong? I tried to ignore them, but their laughter felt like it was crawling under my skin. I just wanted to get through the day without making a fool of myself, but it was starting to feel like that was too much to ask.
The door to the classroom opened, and the teacher walked in. She was a woman in her late thirties, with dark hair tied back in a tight bun. "Alright, everyone, settle down," she said, her voice cutting through the noise. She moved to the front of the room, pulling out a stack of papers. "Today, we're going to start with some English..."
She trailed off as her eyes landed on me, and her brow furrowed slightly. "Wait a minute. Who are you?"
My heart sank, and I felt the blood rush to my face. "I'm... I'm Miles Brown," I stammered, my voice coming out smaller than I intended.
She looked at me for a moment, then shook her head. "Miles, you're in the wrong class. This is Year 8 English."
I froze. Wrong class? How did I mess that up? Before I could say anything, the whole room erupted into laughter. The kids around me were pointing, snickering, and making comments about the "clueless Year 7" who couldn't even find his class.
"I... I'm sorry, I didn't know—" I tried to explain, but my voice was drowned out by their laughter. My hands started shaking as I shoved my things back into my bag as fast as I could. The teacher tried to calm the class down, but it was no use.
"That's enough! Everyone, be quiet!" she snapped, her voice firm. She turned back to me, her expression softening. "Miles, let me help you—"
But I was already out the door, the sound of their laughter still ringing in my ears. I ran down the hallway, not caring where I was going, just wanting to get away. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I blinked them back. This isn't how it was supposed to go. Why can't I get it right?
I rounded a corner too fast and slammed straight into someone. Papers went flying, and I almost fell to the ground. "Whoa, easy there!" a voice said, and I looked up to see a man, probably in his mid-twenties, with a kind face and a concerned expression. "Are you okay?"
"I'm... I'm sorry," I mumbled, wiping my eyes. "I didn't mean to—"
"Hey, it's alright. No harm done." He knelt to gather the scattered papers, and I quickly crouched to help him. As we picked them up, I noticed the woman from the English classroom—the teacher—coming around the corner, looking worried.
"There you are!" she said, relief flooding her voice. "I'm so sorry, Miles. I didn't mean to upset you. Let's get you to where you need to be."
The man looked between us and then back at me, seeming to understand the situation. "Year 7, right? You've got an assembly in the hall. Come on, I'll take you there."
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice thick with embarrassment. They walked with me, the woman still apologizing softly, but I could barely hear her. My mind was spinning with everything that had gone wrong in just the first hour of the day.
We reached the assembly hall, and the man opened the door for me. The room was filled with Year 7s, all sitting in neat rows, listening to someone speak at the front. I hesitated in the doorway, suddenly very aware of how many people were in there.
The man gave me a gentle nudge. "Go on, it's okay."
I took a deep breath and stepped inside, trying to be as quiet as possible. But of course, the door creaked loudly, and suddenly, every head in the room turned to look at me.
"Who's that?" I heard someone whisper.
"Is he new?"
"Why's he late?"
The whispers started immediately—kids nudging each other, pointing, whispering about the new kid who was late to the assembly. My face heated up again as I walked down the aisle, searching for a place to sit.
"Great, now everyone's staring at me," I muttered under my breath, feeling like I was under a spotlight. I spotted a row of seats where some kids in light blue ties—Vickers, just like me—were sitting. I slid into an empty seat, keeping my eyes down, and tried to disappear into my chair.
The teacher at the front of the room—Miss Wharfe, according to the name on the board—paused for a moment, then smiled warmly. "Ah, we have a late arrival. Welcome! No worries, find a seat and join us. As I was saying, welcome to your first year at Chelmer Valley High School. This year is going to be full of new experiences and challenges, but I'm confident that every one of you will rise to the occasion."
I tried to listen, but it was hard to focus with all the whispers still buzzing around me. I felt like a spotlight was shining on me, highlighting every single mistake I'd made that morning.
Miss Wharfe continued her speech, talking about the different houses, the competitions, and what we could expect from the year ahead. "Remember, you are all part of a house now—Curie, Holst, Einstein, Livingstone, Marconi, Rutherford, or Vickers—and you will compete in various events throughout the year. It's a great way to make friends and show your school spirit."
I glanced down at my tie, the light blue colour of Vickers, and tried to feel some of that school spirit Miss Wharfe was talking about. But all I could think about was how I'd already messed up on the first day. And it wasn't just any school—it was Chelmer Valley, this place that was supposed to be better, safer, and different from everything I'd known before.
Finally, Miss Wharfe finished her speech and dismissed everyone to their form groups. "Now, Year 7s, you'll be heading to your form rooms. Your form tutors will guide you through your timetable and answer any questions you have. Just remember, today is the start of something new, so make the most of it!"
I stood up, feeling a little shaky, and followed the rest of my kids out of the hall. "This was just the first day," I told myself. It can only get better from here, right? But deep down, I wasn't so sure.