Afterlife Dream

On my first day of school, Mom accompanied me to the St. Louis Academy.

The academy itself had an integrated school system with kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, high school, and college just within walking distance of one another.

Even the building styles were similar. The red brick walls, the white doors, and the white window frames were the defining features of the St. Louis Academy building.

The 9th grade was the first grade in high school. I had never been in the high school building before, so I was beyond nervous.

The high school building was larger than the middle school one. The first thing that caught my eye when we arrived was a lot of children who were taller than me. Mom and I went past the chattering crowd and headed toward the principal office right away.

The principal had been expecting us. She was in charge of both the middle school and the high school, so it was convenient for her to decide whether I should enter the 8th or the 9th grade.

"Hi, Daniel," she extended a hand in my direction, deep lines were etched on her face when she broke into a warm smile. "How are you doing today? Ready for some studying?"

I shook her hand and beamed. "More than ready!"

Her smile grew wider. She turned to my mom and said, "Mrs. Weston, do rest assured. Daniel is in good hands."

Mom threw me one worried look. I knew that she was still thinking about the mysterious headache from the last time.

"Mom, I will be fine," I hastily said before Mom came up with some story or warning to share with the principal.

Mom thus just gave me a kiss on my cheek. "Have fun, Danny. I will come to pick you up at 3 PM, okay?"

I nodded.

As I watched Mom leave, I could not help but feel more anxious. It was a different kind of anxious than when she left me at the hospital. At the hospital, I knew that I was being left in the care of people that I knew for years. Although the principal and the teachers were by no means bad people, I still wasn\'t familiar with them.

And classmates?

Classmates in 8th grade did not necessarily continue to the 9th grade. I originally was not close to anyone due to my poor attendance. Now that I was back at school, was there anyone I knew? I doubted.

There were 5 classes for each grade. The classes for 9th grade were referred to as 9A, 9B, 9C, 9D, and 9E.

I was to join class 9C. That morning, according to my timetable, class 9C was supposed to have math for two hours.

The principal took me to the math class and knocked at the door.

"Come in," came a cheery female voice from behind the door.

The principal and I entered.

There were a sea of new faces who looked at me as if I were some kind of alien. As expected, I knew none of them.

The math teacher was a relatively petite lady with a bubbly personality.

"Everyone!" she shouted in excitement. "We have a new addition to the class!"

The principal gently nudged me forward. "Miss Hayes, I brought you Daniel Weston."

"Introduce yourself, Daniel," she added before she left the classroom.

Miss Hayes gave me an encouraging smile. "Go ahead, Daniel. Please introduce yourself to everyone."

I nodded and clumsily introduced myself. My voice was a little shaky when I spoke, adding more to my nervosity.

"Hello everyone, my name is Daniel Weston."

The students were all silent, apparently expecting me to say more but I had nothing else I wish to say. I definitely did not want to start talking about my illness. Or how I miraculously recovered and was now joining their class.

The math teacher pulled me closer and grabbed my shoulder.

"Daniel here is a little shy, it seems. Everyone, please say hi!"

Some students waved with hesitation. There were some "hi"s and a lot of stares. It was rather nerve-wracking. I never had to stand in front of the whole class to introduce myself. This was a first.

"Daniel, you can... oh, look. There is an empty place just next to Jason. Please sit over there."

A boy who sat at the left corner in the back row of the class waved at me when his name was called. He had dirty blond hair and he wore a pair of thick glasses. He looked like a computer nerd.

The math teacher nudged me to take a seat, so I did.

I put my bag on the table next to Jason and murmured a "hi".

He responded with another "hi" and smiled at me.

A few curious heads turned in my direction, but then they quickly faced forward when Miss Hayes continued with the lesson. Since I was sitting in the back row, I easily had access to the view of the whole class from the back.

Thank God, my classmates seemed to be nice people. On the other side, I had a brand new problem to worry about.

I was unable to understand the math lesson. The math teacher might be speaking in an alien language and it would not have made any difference. At the end of the two-hour lesson, I slumped against my desk in desperation.

Did I become dumb after skipping school for months?

Not that I claimed to be a genius in math. I wasn\'t. But never to the point that I understood nothing. Dejected, I thought of reviewing today\'s lesson on my own once I got home. Maybe ask Mom or Dad about it.

After math, more classes followed. History for an hour, and then English for an hour. The history lesson was not bad. We were talking about the civil war that happened in the 17th century. Dad liked to discuss with Mom about wars and stuff during dinner so I remembered a few things from their heated discussion. English was also ok. The teacher recited an old poem for us and then asked us to write a poem during the hour.

"Let your inner poet come to the surface!" he said dramatically while throwing his arms into the air and inviting giggles from the students.

Unfortunately, I had no inner poet so no one came to the surface. I ended up with an empty paper at the end of the lesson. Thankfully, I was not the only one. Most boys also submitted empty papers to the teacher, who clicked his tongue in disappointment whenever another empty paper landed on top of the small pile on his desk.

After English was over, it was time for the lunch break.

St. Louis Academy had a canteen that provided lunch for students from all grades. It had two sections : eastern, western, and pasta. The eastern section usually had Asian lunch, be it Chinese, Japanese, or even Korean food while the western section had typical American lunch. Typical American lunch meant burgers or hotdogs and fries.

The pasta section consisted of pasta of three kinds : usually spaghetti, fusilli, and penne, and then an assortment of sauces to go with : carbonara, bolognese, and pesto. There was a huge bowl with grated cheese at the side for those who could not live without extra cheese.

Today, the eastern section had some fried noodles with bamboo shots, ear mushrooms, and other oriental vegetables. Not quite in the mood for that, but I was also not in the mood for a burger or a hotdog. I thus went to get myself a plate of pasta with carbonara. Naturally, I gave myself a generous serving of grated cheese and also a spoonful of black sesame seed for no reason.

After paying for my meal at the cashier, I looked around the many long tables and chairs. There were so many students in the canteen. Too many, although these students were only those from middle school and high school. The younger ones from kindergarten and elementary school had their dining room in their school buildings.

I was just looking around for a place to sit when a familiar voice called out for me.

"Danny! Hey, Danny!"

I looked in the direction of the source and found Jaden sitting at a table. The seat opposite him was empty.

"Hey, Jaden."

I went to the table and put my tray of food down.

"How was the first day?" he asked with a grin.

"Good, I guess. Math kinda sucked but the rest was good. How is it at your side?"

"Mmm, nothing extraordinary," he answered.

​ After the brief small talk, we quickly gobbled our food down. Lunchtime was one and half hour, and we already wasted around thirty minutes getting food and lining up for the cashier. That meant only one hour left to eat and rush back to prepare for the next class.

Before we parted, Jaden reminded me, "Mom will come to pick us up at 3 PM. Don\'t forget to come down in time."

"Sure," I answered. "See you later."