Video tip: The 180-degree rule: When shooting
a two-way interview with two cameras, keep both
on the same side of the action.
I'm snuggled in bed under my covers processing my first day at Rockwood Hills Middle School. What amazes me most is how the smallest little actions can have an impact on the rest of your life.
If I hadn't had my camera out, if I hadn't been playing with it because I felt uncomfortable that no one, not one single person, was talking to me, then I wouldn't be making this video-with Chelsea, of all people.
Chelsea, the girl who thinks she owns the school. And maybe she does. Only time will tell. Chelsea's the girl that every girl wants to be like, and if they can't be like her, they want to be best friends with her. Even if they don't admit it.
I figured her out in about ten seconds.
It was easy-I used to be that girl. And I'll be that girl again. Either that or I'll be that girl's friend, which is just as good.
My cell phone rings, and I don't even have to look at it to know who it is.
I don't have to say hello, either. She'll just start talking.
And she does. "So, what's it like? You've been there one day. Do you have a million friends already? Who'd you sit with at lunch?" It's Ali. She's bombarding me with questions, like always. Before I moved, we decided we'd talk or video-chat every night at eight thirty, after dinner and before the good shows.
"It's okay." I'm not sure what to tell her. She's my best friend, and I usually tell her everything. But I can't be honest with her. Not yet, anyway. I can't tell her how I didn't really have anyone to sit with at lunch so I sat at the end of this one table, toward the back. It was a table full of girls who didn't really seem to go together, like mismatched socks. They were stuck together because they had nowhere else to be. I can't tell her about the whole potato chip thing. "I mean, really, it was just my first day. I didn't know what to expect."
"Yes, you did." Ali sighs. "We thought you'd be, like, I don't know, something, someone cool right away. We thought it'd be a utopia, the way your mom described it."
Ali's right about my mom. She talks about Long Island like it's paradise. They even have drive-throughs where you can get milk and eggs and all the essentials. She told us that a billion times. She lived here until she was a ten, so she has all these happy little-kid memories of it, like the town Memorial Day parades and ice cream trucks and stuff. And it's true that you're not likely to find drive-through places to get milk in rural Massachusetts.
"Yeah, well, maybe it is." I force myself to perk up. "I didn't say it was all bad. I'm still getting used to things."
"Yeah, that's true, Deenie." Ali pauses. "I miss you, though. Like today, at lunch, they had sloppy joes and I was singing that Adam Sandler song to myself and I wished so much that you were there to sing it with me."
"I know. I miss you, too, Al." I do miss her. She's the only other girl our age that even knows the sloppy joes song. And it isn't easy to move to a new school in eighth grade, but I have to make the best of it. I have to be happy here. My parents are beyond psyched to be here. My dad's a partner in this great firm. We live fifteen minutes from my grandparents. On paper, everything looks awesome.
Ali's still talking about her day. I'm trying to picture it. What would it be like if I was still there? Would we be in math together? Would I be at her house studying right now? Probably.
It's not like I've even been gone for that long. Just last week I was at my old school. But I have to admit, even then I didn't feel like I belonged. It was like I already had one foot out the door.
Our move was delayed because our new house wasn't ready yet. My parents and brother went to live with my grandparents for a few weeks, while I got to stay behind and live with Ali. I wanted to squeeze out the last few drops of Sheffield. And it was pretty awesome, like a sleepover every single night.
Ali and I fantasized about what life would be like on Long Island. I don't know why, but I pictured boys walking me home from school, kind of old-fashioned. And Ali said she thought there'd be a lot of dances. She thought it would feel like real middle school.
Our school-well, my old school-definitely didn't feel like real middle school. It was more like a tiny step up from elementary school. We didn't even change rooms for most classes, and we had to be called up to get our hot lunch. The whole grade ate together.
But the thing about my old school was that kids were just accepted, even if they were a little different from everyone else. Like Ramona Bevins, who said she enjoyed watching traffic, or Simon Tome, who had three pet snakes and brought them in on Fridays. At my old school, the lockers weren't even lockers; they were cubbies. No one stole anything. Not even once.
And no one was very mean.
No one crunched potato chips into someone else's bag.
I may have only been at Rockwood Hills for one day, but something tells me it's different. When I sat down at a table in the cafeteria, the kids sitting there barely even smiled. And in homeroom, Chelsea Stern and all those girls she's friends with were making a list of all the boys they thought were cute. When this other girl who wanted to sit down near them came over, they said,"This seat's taken. Sorry." But they weren't sorry.
And then there's Chelsea's whole attitude about working with me.
It's different here-very different. But I can't admit that to anyone. Not yet, anyway. I tell Ali more about my day, about the video and Chelsea and anything else I can think of, until I run out of ideas.
"Well, I gotta go," Ali says. "We have a huge sosh test tomorrow."
"We do?" I ask, not even realizing what I'm saying.
"Oh, sorry." She pauses. "I do."
Right then, it all hits me. Ali and I really don't go to school together anymore. We've been in school together since kindergarten, but I don't live in Massachusetts anymore. I live on Long Island.
And I don't have any friends.
"Bye, Al," I say.
"Bye, Dina. Can't wait to hear more about that girl you're working on the video with. Maybe you can text me a picture of you guys in matching shirts or something."
"Oh, shut up," I say. "You know you're the only one I match with."
"Yeah. For now."
Ali's jealous. She doesn't realize that she actually has absolutely nothing to be jealous about, but it'd take too long to explain that. So I don't. Instead, I imagine what it would be like if there was actually something for her to be jealous of. If Chelsea and I were actually friends.
My mom knocks on my door. She says she wants to hear all about my day.
"I told you guys over dinner," I say.
"I know." She smiles, like she's expecting more. "But girl stuff. Any cute boys in your grade? Any new friends? Give me the gossip."
She has this look on her face like she's expecting something really exciting. What, though? That I already have a boyfriend? That I already have a million friends?
"Actually, I didn't tell you about this project I'm working on," I start. "Do you know about the fiftieth-anniversary thingie?"
"Yeah, we got something about it in the mail." Her whole face perks up. "It seems like a really fun event. One of the moms I met at the PTA meeting said people are going all out-new dresses, getting their hair done, all that. I'm excited. It sounds fun, doesn't it?"
She's too excited about everything, too happy to be here, to ever tell her the truth about how I feel. "Yeah, definitely. So anyway, I had my video camera out, and then the teacher suggested I make some kind of 'day in the life' video for it."
"That's so great, sweetie!"
I kind of hate when my mom calls me sweetie; I'm not sure why. I sit back against the pillows on my bed. "This other girl in my social studies class is working on it with me."
"Really? Tell me about her."
"She's really popular."
"So? You're popular."
I glare at her. I don't need a mom pep talk right now. "I have homework to do."
"You okay, Dina?"
"I'm fine, Mom. Why?"
"Just checking."
My mom closes the door, and I start to think more about my day. Is it possible to already know that this school is so different from my old school? Do I just miss what I was used to, or is it really a bad place? How can I know for sure?
And how am I supposed to make a video about the school when I just started and the girl I'm working with doesn't care about it at all?
Chelsea has everything going for her-pretty in a way that seems like she doesn't even try to look good, lots of friends, always someone to talk to.
She seemed so annoyed to have to work with me. She seemed weirded out when I said how much I liked shooting videos.
I stare at my bare walls, wishing that my dad had had a chance to hang up my pictures, when my cell phone vibrates.
She's right. I shouldn't be sad. Nothing good ever comes from feeling bad for yourself.
It was just my first day. First days of anything are always hard.