Stan I got one day between coming home from the Kap trip and returning to school, one day to shift from Drive to Neutral to Park. I shifted so fast, I think I blew my transmission. At least that’s how I felt the morning after Labor Day, after the barbecue, on my first day of middle school. I couldn’t get into gear. I hadn’t gotten to sleep the night before till well after midnight. I was still in the habit of staying up late. I was still in the habit of having fun. Plus I was kind of jittery about going to Stan for the first time. Stanislaus Middle School was its real name, but everyone called it Stan. All four Pasadero elementary schools emptied into it after fifth grade. That meant there were going to be a lot of kids I didn’t know, a new enormous building to get lost in, a new principal, new teachers, new everything. And I wouldn’t be staying in one classroom anymore. I’d have a new room, a new teacher, and a new subject every fifty-five minutes. With all this to look forward to, it’s no wonder I had trouble getting to sleep that night.
