The Syndrome Playlist

It’s been a long day. Seriously, I think I prefer six periods in one year than four periods in one semester. Sitting in math for an hour and a half is going to be a real bitch. Twilight was a nice girl, though, and she'll be a great way to skate on by with a B minus.

Opening my locker, I start the exchange of textbooks. Keeping my math book with me, keeping the monster of a physics book in the hurt, might as well take my history book. There’s a lot of empty space in here. I’m used to three rows of smaller lockers rather than a single row of body-sized lockers. Granted, not my body-size, but some of the freshmen here are tiny enough to fit two of them into one. Hell, I could fit two of the CMC in there. I obviously won’t try that experiment. I’m not a bully; I’m just an asshole.

About to close my locker, a folded piece of paper floats its way down to the floor. Great. First day of school and my locker is already starting to fill itself with trash.

I reach down and pick it up only to notice that it has my name written on one side of it. “Alex” in cut up letters from magazines. Like, cliché ‘we have your daughter’ stuff. Secret admirer or someone who wants to beat the crapola out of me in the parking lot? First day of school and there’s already going to be drama. Who have I met today?

Throwing caution to the wind, I open the note.

“GO TO THE GYM”

Nope. F that. Long day means I’m going home now.

I close my locker and start heading towards the lobby. The hallways are empty, my footsteps echoing off the tile. Rather than dwell on that fact, I stick my headphones in. Instinct at this point. I scroll through Syndrome, debating my options. There’s always the 639 playlist, but Das Königshaus always sounds good to me. Eh, let’s hit shuffle and really go crazy here.

Jamming out to The Smiths, as much as you can jam out to them, I walk the halls, trying to make my way to the entrance. It’s a left here? God I wish there was someone to ask where crap is. And where the hell is everyone anyway? It’s the end of the school day, the halls should be jam packed with kids absolutely itching to go home. How am I the only one ready to get out of here?

Finally I make it to the main entrance, bee-lining straight to the doors. I pull on them and there’s no give. Even though there’s no one else there, I look sheepishly around. Hate it when that happens. So, I push.

Nothing.

What the hell? Push. Nothing. Pull. Jack diddly squat. I start shaking the door by its handle bar. Why in the name of that creepy Teletubbies baby sun are the doors locked?

“I. Just. Want. To. Go. Home!” I say with each throttle of the door.

Turning around, I feel the anger drain from my body, as well as all the blood from my head. Written on the walls in either red lipstick or blood are the words “GO TO THE GYM!”

Isn’t that nice? What in the actual fu… What’s happening? Was my first day so bad that I took the metaphorical sledgehammer to the skull? There’s no one here to do a check, and I’m more than willing to bet all other exits are locked.

I look back outside through the doors. So close to going home too. Man, I don’t even know where the gym is. Looking around, I figure that if the library is to the right, then the gym is to the left? Sure. That makes at least a little bit of sense.

There’s a moment of hesitation before I give in and start walking. To myself, like there’s anyone else around, I whisper, “Holy fudge muffins, what kind of day is this turning out to be?”

I immediately trip on nothing.

“MOTHER FU…”

I, of course, land on my face. After skidding about a foot, I scream into the ground.

“I JUST WANTED TO GO HOME!”

I’m standing in front of a pair of doors that look like the entrance to the gymnasium. I mean it’s those blue-ish metal doors with bars instead of doorknobs. Classic gym doors.

It should have been the end of my first day. Brand new school, already part of a club, I don't think I've pissed off anybody, and there are now plenty of people that I can smile at as I walk down the hallway. I’d say friends, but I get touchy about that word. Grandma would have been proud.

I say would have been because I have the notion that what lays in wait for me in the gym is almost certain death. Of course, I’ve said that before and everything turned out fine. Or I never considered it and everything turned out… not fine. Okay, okay, I’m overthinking this. Waaay overthinking this. Just man up and open the door. Open the door.

I look at my watch. School ended about thirty minutes ago. Jesus, I should be home right now. Knowing Grandma, she probably spent the day baking cookies just for me. Gah, that sounds good right now. I’m almost tempted to go back to the entrance and just shatter the glass on the door to bust out. It’d almost be worth the money it’d cost to fix the door.

Screw it. You only die once. That’s the saying right? I reach out and push the door open.

Sunlight spreads into the hall around me when the door opens. My eyes widen at the scene before me.

Balloons and party streamers everywhere. Every single student that goes to school here watching me expectantly. A banner above the stage reading “WELCOME TO CANTERLOT ALEX!” A DJ right beneath it waiting to let the bass drop.

Everyone screams, “Welcome to Canterlot High, Alex!”

Oh this is so much worse than I expected. Death would have been easy.