"No Longer Alone": Part 3

The following day I woke with a newfound energy. I want to get to know my town and family better.

“Good morning Kareema! Good morning Robert!”

“Good morning, Jaehyun!” Kareema replies. “How did you sleep?”

“Wonderfully! I was hoping to take a tour around town if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course! We would love it if you would get to know Yoon Blossoming more! Wouldn’t we, Robert?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” “I just want to go into town a little,” I explain as we make our way toward the car. “I’ve never been anywhere but the Blooming Children Orphanage.”

“Well if you want, we can stop by there,” Kareema offers.

“I’d rather not. Too many memories.”

And so, we set off on our journey through the city. We saw famous landmarks like the Goldenrod Gate Bridge, the Great Wall of Carnation, the Leaning Tower of Peony, and other monuments I’ve only ever read about in books and seen in pictures. At each destination, we got out of the car and took a photo. A family photo. When we got back home, Kareema printed the pictures and placed them in her scrapbook filled with photos of her and Robert’s adventures. 

That night, I write a letter. It’s not addressed to anyone, there wouldn’t be anyone to address it to. But I write it anyway. Not for anyone else, but for me. I write about my life at the orphanage. I write about Jack and his betrayal, which hurt worse than getting beaten for staying awake past curfew. I write about my former bunkmate and how I could never remember his name. I write about meeting Kareema and Robert for the first time, and the joy of feeling wanted. I write about the six months between the meeting and the signing of the adoption papers, and the fear that they might change their minds. I write about finally arriving in my new home and beginning the rest of my life. Eventually, I fall asleep with the paper in my lap and the pen still in my hand.

The rest of the week was uneventful. I was still getting used to being in a new house, a new part of town, and a new family. The dynamic is… interesting. Both of my “parents” have a specific way of living. Kareema is very affectionate and doesn’t care about the messiness. The exact opposite of Robert, who is reserved and clean. Very clean. Not only is every single thing labeled and put away neatly, but you can also see your reflection on every single surface. Every once in a while I would slip on the polished floors, much to the dismay of Kareema, who apparently believes Robert has a little OCD. But then again, I lived for 15 years in utter disorganization, so I’m not mad at the tidiness. 

“You ready for school tomorrow, kiddo?” Robert asks me.

“Wow, the week flew by so fast. I can’t believe school is starting already.”

“Yup. Try to wake up around 7:00, sport. I have to drop you off before I head to work, so we’ll leave around 7:45 to get you to school by 8:00. Remember, school ends at 2:30, but I’ll be there by 2:35. That’ll have to do until I get the chance to change my work schedule to accommodate the new development.”

“Sounds good!” I agree.

That night, I go to bed with a pounding chest and sweaty palms. What if none of the kids like me? Nah, you’re just overthinking. But what if no one will talk to me? Good point. Where will I sit for lunch? And with who? Will I tell people that I’m adopted? What if they ask?

My rambling goes on for a few more hours. The false enthusiasm I put on for Kareema and Robert’s sake melts away. As I steal a glance at the clock, I realize that if I fall asleep now, I will get a solid 7 hours of sleep. Good, I think. Seven hours is good. But unfortunately, the plan of 7 hours of sleep did not stick. The hours flew by like a bird soaring through the air. The next thing I know, it’s already 2:00 AM. Okay, 5 hours of sleep. Not great, but not horrible. 3:00 AM. Four hours of sleep. If I fall asleep right now, I will get four hours of sleep. 4:00 AM. You need to sleep right now, Jaehyun! You have school in the morning, and need your rest! 5:00 AM. I think it’s safe to say that I will not be getting sleep tonight.

Instead, I get up out of bed and start wandering around the house. Careful not to wake Robert or Kareema, I find the photo albums Kareema keeps, take a seat on the sofa, and skim through them. The photos start from when they were in college and go through time until the present. From the looks of it, they were friends for three years before finally dating in their senior year of college. Kareema has a degree in environmental science, and Robert has a degree in mechanical engineering. After graduating from the university, Kareema did attend culinary school for two years, much to the consternation of her parents. She did not pursue a career in cooking. Over the years, they had many adventures in Europe, South America, and Asia. Oddly not Australia, though. They got married and had a complete plan of starting a family, but they found out that Kareema couldn’t have children. 

“Jaehyun?”

“Oh! Hi! I'm sorry! I didn’t realize anybody was awake,” I say, getting up with a start and consequently knocking the photo album I was looking at on the floor. I bend to retrieve it and look up to see my adoptive mother staring at me with a concerned look. “I should be asleep,” I say, reading her mind.

“Yes. You should.”

That was the most stern I’d seen her all week. “I’m sorry. Just a little nervous, I guess.”

Her face softens. “Don’t apologize. Just… try to get some rest. You have a big day tomorrow!”

“Yay!” I say, trying to sound exuberant but failing miserably as she hugs me. “Okay! Okay! I can’t breathe!”

“I’m sorry,” Kareema whispers. “I'm just a little excited.”

She kisses my cheek and offers to walk me back to bed, and despite myself, I agree. Of course, I try not to get too attached, given the fact that I’ve been rejected by pretty much everyone else I’ve ever met, including my so-called best friend. But still, it’s nice when she tucks me in, and even though there are only 2 more hours until my alarm goes off, I finally fall asleep.

My alarm wakes me with a start. I reluctantly crawl out of bed and change for school. School! I’m going to an actual school! I think to myself. Suddenly, all my worries of the previous night come rushing back. Questions and concerns and wonderings and anxiety buzz around my head like bees in a hive. But they all get demolished once I smell the wonderful aroma wafting upstairs from the kitchen. 

As I walk down the steps, I am greeted with the glorious sight of actual food, instead of the plain porridge given to us daily at the orphanage. 

“This is magnificent Kareema!”

“Why, thank you! But you better hurry up and eat before Robert leaves without you!”

I hurriedly finish my french toast and sausage breakfast before departing and completing my morning routine. By the time I finish brushing my teeth and taking a shower, Robert is already in the car. I run towards the vehicle with as much tenacity as a boy trying very hard not to be late on his first day of school. On my way, I quickly check my reflection in the mirror by the doorway. I try to smooth the one piece of my raven-black hair that refuses to stay down, to no success.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!”

“That’s okay, bud. Just try to wake up earlier tomorrow.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

By the time we pull up to the school, I’ve bit my nails so much that my fingers look as red as tomatoes.

“Are we sure this is the best idea?” I ask Robert beside me. “I mean, maybe I should just stay home-schooled for the rest of high school.”

“Nonsense. I’ll pick you up at 2:35.” 

“But–” I start. But by the time I turn around, Robert’s already gone. “Well, then. Guess I’m on my own again. As always. Why am I even talking to myself?!” My face burns as I hurriedly move past the quizzical looks directed toward me.

As I step inside my new school for the next three years, I’m hit by an overwhelming mess of emotions and sensations. Everywhere I looked there was the blur of a new face, the whiff of a new scent, the vibration of a new sound. I have to cover my ears to make it through the cacophony. 

“Excuse me?” I try to ask the people around me. “Um, excuse me?”

Unfortunately, no one answers. I manage to make my way through the crowd to the stairs and enter room 101, my homeroom. There are two floors in the school with 100 rooms on each level, a cafeteria on the second, a gym on the first, and a small theater separated from the main building. There’s also a football field in the back, basketball courts, a pool, and several baseball fields on campus. Needless to say, it’s going to take a while before I get accustomed to life on public school grounds. 

“Hello! Welcome to room 101!” My teacher exclaims as students file into her classroom. “Take a seat anywhere you like!”

I decide to grab a chair around the left middle, near the window. That way, I’m not in the front or back to get called on, but instead blended in with the crowd. My go-to whenever I was in the “classroom” back at Blooming Children. I also enjoy looking at the birds flying by through the window. It reminds me of my time at the orphanage, where all I wanted was to be free. I used to fold paper birds for the little kids. 

“Welcome all to your homeroom for sophomore year! This is a class dedicated to sophomores and getting you prepared for the rest of your high school and college careers!”

The rest of her speech was an unremarkable rendition of what the rest of the year was going to look like, which wasn’t much, given this was only homeroom. I’m pretty sure none of the other students even heard a word she said. It was too early and we were all too tired and the talk was too long. I did manage to pick up on a few key points she mentioned, though. For example, her name is Ms. Ferguson. She has been teaching at Live Wood for 5 years. She has one daughter who graduated high school last year. Homeroom is a way to bond with your classmates and get ready for the day of learning ahead. Also known as Jaehyun staring out the window for 20 minutes. 

“Okay, the bell should ring in about 5 minutes, so the time is yours!” Ms. Ferguson enthusiastically tells us.

I look around at my new classmates and try to determine where I would fit in. From what I’ve gathered, everyone in my homeroom spent their freshman year at Live Wood High. Which means I’m the outlier. At least back at the orphanage, I knew everyone there. It was my main residence since I was an infant, after all.

“Oh! One last thing. For those of you who are new to our school, be sure to study your schedule and a map of the campus. Things can get a bit… confusing around here.” A few students snickered. “And I speak for the entire faculty when I say, ‘We hope you enjoy your time as a Live Wood Oak!’”

“Wait, we’re the Live Wood Oaks!? As in trees!?” I accidentally blurt out loud. I immediately regret it when every head in the room turns in my direction. “I–I mean… well… trees are cool.”

Luckily for me, the bell decides to ring at the right moment to save me from further embarrassment. I leave the room quickly with my head down, trying not to make eye contact. I visit my locker for lack of anything better to do in the ten-minute passing period.

“365… 366… Here we go! Locker 367!”

I open my locker with high hopes of… honestly, I’m not sure what. But based on the plethora of high school movies I’ve watched, I expected more than the small area with one hook I received. There was barely enough room to fit my backpack, let alone anything else I would try to cram in there. I pull out my schedule and map and see that my next class is on the first floor: room 23. Biology with Mrs. Jenkins. I make my way to the stairs, careful not to unintentionally bump anyone on the way. Can’t have anyone else hating me, I think to myself. Not that the kids in my homeroom hate me. Hopefully. 

I manage to get downstairs and to room 23 without a hiccup. I enter the classroom and see that I’m the last to arrive. I glance up at the clock in the front and see that I am still two minutes early. Despite that, I rush to the last empty desk in the back, trying not to look at anyone, for fear that they would see the blush I feel rising in my cheeks. 

“Nice entrance, new kid.”

“Huh?”

“I said nice entrance.” I look to the owner of the voice. On my left, a girl is looking in my direction, though her expression hints that she doesn’t much care for my so-called “nice entrance.” Her long black hair slightly covers her judging eyes, which are currently directed at me. I can’t help but wonder about our resemblance to each other, though I’m probably just imagining it.

“Uh, thanks.”

“We don’t get a lot of newbies at Live Wood.”

“I can see that.”

“Where you from?”

Uh-oh, I think. The dreaded question. There’s no way I could tell her I was an orphan. But then again, she was the only person to speak to me. Should I tell her?

“You okay?”

“Huh?”

The girl lets out a little chuckle. “You spaced out for a bit. Looked like you were trying to decide if you should really tell me where you’re from.”

“Oh! Uh…”

“That’s okay. I don’t like telling people my backstory, either.”

Before I could ask her what that means, the late bell rings, signifying the official beginning of class.