The first day of school is an awesome event. Friendships and the possibility of them are forged. The whole school year, even a whole school career, may be set in motion by the experiences on that one critical day. For some, making a good impression takes on a special importance. Moving to a new school with the chance for a fresh start can become the most important thing in life. Preparing to be seen by classmates as the person you want them to know, not as the person they think they see, becomes all-consuming if, previously, you have known only rejection.

Just that opportunity has presented itself today to Jason Loring. Jason has spent an anxious morning and many previous days preparing for this, his first day at a new school in a new community. Never, in all his 10 years, has he sensed he was facing a more important day than this one. He carefully considered what to wear. T-shirt? Long sleeve shirt? Chinos? Jeans? High tops? Running shoes? Every item finally selected was chosen to make just the right impression. His hair was styled and his take-along lunch packed with the hope of making friends.

Now the moment has arrived. Today is Jason's first at MacAllister Middle School in Millville, Wisconsin. It is his big chance.

His father drove him to school so he wouldn't be sweaty like he would after a walk or bike ride. He dropped him off a little before the first bell so he would have enough time to find his home room, introduce himself to his teacher, and move his things into his locker before the second bell.

When he arrived at his home room, Mrs. Kingsley, the teacher, was so busy sorting through student papers she didn't even notice him until he walked to her desk and introduced himself. She welcomed him warmly then quickly apologized for being too busy to talk more just then. She said she needed to finish some preparation work before science class. She hurriedly showed him his desk and his locker. She didn't talk much, but that didn't bother Jason. He thought she seemed nice enough for a teacher. She walked with a bounce and smiled a lot.

Jason, his head as jittery as his stomach, slowly and carefully transferred his dictionary, notebooks, and pencil case containing his lucky pencils with the silver stars trailing down the sides, from his back pack to his desk. All the while, he wondered. He wondered whether Mrs. Kingsley and the other teachers were as hard as the ones at his old school. And he wondered whether the kids at MacAllister were smart. He wanted to do well here. He hoped he could. His heart pounded. He soon would know.

He slung his back pack over his shoulder and walked quietly into the hallway to his locker. It was three lockers south of the classroom door. He easily remembered the combination Mrs. Kingsley gave him for the lock. He had a good memory. He only had to hear or see something once if it interested him for him to remember it. As he turned the dial, he noticed some students enter Mrs. Kingsley's classroom. They dressed good. And they looked smart. His heart pounded faster.

As he opened the locker door, the odor of spoiled milk almost made him retch. He held his breath, hung his back pack inside, and shut the door quietly but quickly. He decided to ask Mrs. Kingsley for a different locker by the end of the day. He hoped his back pack wouldn't smell too bad by then. He twirled the dial of the lock two full rotations to the right to make it hard for anyone to break in.

Back at his desk in home room, he watched the others enter while trying not to be noticed. That was pretty easy. Almost everyone was talking and laughing with someone. No one paid any particular attention to him as far as he could tell. He thought he must be about as interesting as the broom in the corner. All the while, he was hoping things would go his way just once. He hoped he would just fit in. Then, the second bell reverberated throughout the room and clanged throughout his head. His first day had officially begun.

Oh, MAN! Jason sighed, watching Mrs. Kingsley remove the attendance book from her desk drawer. He forgot class could start this way.

He felt sweat dampen his armpits the way it always did when he was scared. He held his arms tight against his sides to hide the wetness darkening the underarms of his new white shirt.

Gotta look cool. Gotta be cool, he warned himself like a coach challenging the players at a pre-game pep-talk.

I look okay, Jason thought. Good, actually! he smiled to himself. He checked out his new jeans, white shirt, and high tops for about the 50th time just to be sure. My hair, though, that's something else! he worried. No matter how I comb it, red hair always looks nerdy.

MacAllister seems okay, he thought looking around at the bright walls filled with maps and posters of wild animals and birds. I just hope I get along better with the kids here than I did with the kids at my old school. I . . .

"Jeff Brady," Mrs. Kingsley called. A boy playing a pocket computer game looked up just long enough to make eye contact with her.

"Here," Mrs. Kingsley said to herself while she wrote in the book.

Wonder what he's playing, Jason thought.

Mrs. Kingsley called more names while Jason thought about his own computer, a hand-me-down from his stepbrother, Robbie, who just got a new powerful one.

"Steve Colletti?" Mrs. Kingsley's voice brought Jason back to present time. I'd better pay attention, he thought. Got to get ready.

"Here," Jacob replied, quickly looking up from the book he was reading. It looked like a Harry Potter book.

I wish I could talk like that, Jason thought. Quick and clear. Maybe I can learn some sort of spell to cast. Aabraah Cahdahbraa, Spit-It-Out. Or Hocus-Pocus-Dominocus. And Poof! Jason is Normal! Then I can say what I want to say when I want to say it. I hate to talk. I never know when IT will happen.

"Marsha Easton?" Mrs. Kingsley continued.

The "E's" already, Jason gulped. He didn't want it to happen. He didn't know if he could stop it if it started. He swallowed hard.

"Here, Mrs. Kingsley," Marsha said through a phony smile.

I don't like her, Jason thought. She thinks she's better than everyone else. Look at her giggling with her friends. Thinks she's so smart.

"Robert Gary?" Mrs. Kingsley called, scanning the desks.

"Not here," she said softly while writing in the attendance book.

"Arthur Kapinski."

"Yeah?" Arthur grunted. It sounded like a dare.

Mrs. Kingsley wrote something in her book.

Here it comes. I'm next. I'm sure of it, Jason thought. He felt his throat tighten and sweat drip down his underarms all the way to his elbows. His heart was thumping so loud he barely heard Mrs. Kingsley's voice.

"Allyson Leder?"

"Here," the girl behind him answered.

Whew! Not yet. Jason sighed. He released the breath ready to explode from his chest and neck and his tight grip on both sides of his desk top. He sank into his seat relieved. Then he heard it.

"Jason Loring?"

He revved himself up again. This time is it. Come on. Do It! Do it! he challenged himself while he grabbed the sides of his desk top once more and squeezed hard. Do it! Just say it! Do you want everyone to think you're a freak?

"Oh-ah-um-uh-ah. Uh-um-ah-ah-ah-a h-huh-huh-huh," he stuttered like popcorn popping in a microwave. No words came out, just sounds, explosive, jerky sounds.

Rats! This will go on forever, he thought. Just like last week when I answered the 'phone and kept going "huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-oh-ah-huh-huh-huh-huh" trying to say"Hello." Whoever called hung up before I ever said 'Hello'. I'm never answering the 'phone again. I'd better stop trying to say "Here" before everyone thinks I'm a total freak. He shot his right arm into the airspace above his head like a rocket on take-off. Perfect lift-off.