How to Survive Your Fourth New School (A Guide by a Professional New Kid)

Hi. I’m Stella Martin, I’m thirteen, and I have been the new kid four times.

Four. Castle Hill Middle School, in the most remote town in Maine, is number four. At this point I’m not a new kid. I’m a professional. I should have business cards.

So, as a public service, here are my official rules for surviving a first day. You’re welcome.

Rule #1: Pick your outfit the night before.

This is not optional. It takes me forever to decide what to wear. Okay, honestly? It takes me forever to decide most things. If you try to choose an outfit at 7:02 in the morning while your mom yells up the stairs like an alarm clock with no off button, you will end up in a shirt that says nothing about you. Clothes are important. They tell people who you are before you open your mouth.

My twin sister Rylee would like me to add that a three-dollar thrift-store button-up also says something about you. I agree. I’m just not going to say what.

Rule #2: Never get dropped off in front of the school.

Have your mom park a block away. You have a reputation to protect, even if the reputation is only forty minutes old. If she argues, tell her it builds character. Then tell her you love her, because you do, and also because she has the car keys.

Rule #3: Practice the fierce face.

I learned it from Runway Rules. Vivienne Vane says a fierce face is ninety percent eyes and ten percent believing you’re right. It works on almost everybody.

It does not work on Rylee. I’m still investigating why.

Rule #4: Be extremely polite to the front office.

There will be a form. You did not fill out the form. Your mom says she did it all online, and the office lady will look at you over her glasses and explain that the computer is not a form.

Stand on whatever colored tape line she points to. Say please. Do not make jokes about stamps. (I’m not saying I did. I’m saying don’t.)

Rule #5: Read the handbook, or have a sister who did.

Rylee read the entire student handbook the night before school. Forty pages. There’s a section on acceptable binder widths. I made fun of her for about a day and a half, and then that handbook saved us in a hallway. I’m not going to tell you how. Just know that nerds win in the end, and I say that with love.

Rule #6: If someone is getting picked on, help.

Even on day one. Especially on day one.

I know. You want to blend in. You want everybody to like you, or at least not notice you. But if you see somebody pressed up against the lockers while a girl with a perfect ponytail knocks her books on the floor, you go over there. You can be new and still be kind. Those aren’t opposites.

Will it make your first week more complicated? Oh, absolutely. Mine got VERY complicated. Worth it.

Rule #7: Bring your person.

Here’s the real secret, the one under all the other rules. I am still scared every single first day. Every one. My stomach does a whole gymnastics routine, and my shoulders go up around my ears.

But I’ve never once walked into a new school alone, because Rylee walks in next to me. Heads high, backpacks heavy.

If you don’t have a twin (most people don’t, and I’m sorry for your loss), find one person. A cousin. A neighbor. The girl who looks just as lost as you. Say hi first.

That’s it. Those are the rules.

And if your new school turns out to be even weirder than you expected? Well. Write me. I might know a thing or two about that.

Love you from the ocean floor, Stella

P.S. The cafeteria’s Salisbury steak is not real Salisbury steak. Trust me on this one.