A New Beginning

Gizem had her headphones on, sitting in the back seat of the car. As she gazed out the window, the quiet streets of the seaside town caught her eye; the blue of the sea stretched like a line on the horizon. The gentle, peaceful sound of the waves drifted in through the open window, but this tranquility wasn’t enough to silence the turmoil inside her. Her heart fluttered in her chest—was it excitement or uncertainty? She couldn’t tell.

Beside her, boxes were stacked on top of each other, one of them bearing the faded marker inscription “Gizem’s Belongings,” smudged from the rush of moving. She thought to herself: A new chapter—I hope I write it well.

The car stopped in front of a two-story apartment building. As the engine went silent, her mother, Nuray, opened the door. She was a woman of medium height, always neat and well-dressed; her hair was tied back, and on her face, fatigue and worry danced in delicate harmony. Her father, Hakan, stepped out slowly, trying not to drop the coffee thermos in his hand as he glanced around over his glasses—but his clumsiness showed itself once again.

As Gizem carried the boxes, she felt her mother’s sharp gaze on the back of her neck, as if every step she took was being graded. Nuray loved her only child dearly, but that love was sometimes overshadowed by expectation. Hakan, on the other hand, was different—tall, slightly hunched, and despite his clumsy nature, he always showed his daughter a quiet, gentle affection, even if he struggled to express his emotions.

As she climbed the stairs, Gizem’s mind drifted to their old home in Istanbul—the familiar streets, the laughter of her friends, all now just memories.

“Gizem, carry those boxes properly!” Nuray’s voice rose, filled with sharp urgency. “I don’t want everything to be a mess after coming all this way!”

Gizem rolled her eyes but hid a small smile. “Mom, this is an adventure. Please, just relax a little,” she said, her voice laced with both exhaustion and fondness.

Hakan dropped a box—as always—and hurriedly picked it up, mumbling sheepishly, “I’m fine, no problem.” His glasses had slid down to the tip of his nose, a shy smile appearing on his face.

Their new home was small but had an airy feel to it. The large window in the living room offered a glimpse of the blue sea, and the wooden floor creaked softly with every step, as if whispering, “Welcome.”

Gizem entered her room; the walls were still bare, her desk lost among the boxes. She opened one and pulled out an old photograph—one taken in Istanbul with her friends, all smiling. Her fingers traced the surface of the paper, her eyes welling up for a brief moment. A quiet thought rose within her: I wish you were here too.

The door creaked open, and Nuray peeked inside, her face wearing that familiar worried expression. Hakan stepped in with a glass of water, his tall frame seeming to fill the room.

That evening, the three of them sat together at the dinner table. Nuray’s signature olive oil-stuffed grape leaves and rice were on the menu—as always, familiar like the scent of home. Gizem absentmindedly stirred her food with her fork, her mind still lost among the boxes.

Later, she sat at her desk, her math notebook in front of her, cookie crumbs scattered nearby. In an empty corner of the wall, she wrote “My Goals” and scribbled down two items with colorful pens: Pass the class. Ace the exam.

Lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, she murmured, “Let’s see what tomorrow brings.” Her voice held both curiosity and hesitation.

“After you tidy your room, get your school bag ready,” Nuray said, her tone a mix of command and care. “Tomorrow is your first day, don’t forget.”

Gizem scrunched up her face but didn’t have the energy to argue. “Alright, Mom,” she said softly. “Don’t worry.”

Hakan’s eyes sparkled, his voice was calm yet sincere. “The first days are tough, but you can do it, I know.”

Nuray frowned, her voice filled with deep concern. “The university exam is this year, no slacking off, Gizem. Don’t forget that.”

Gizem sighed inwardly but tried to remain composed on the outside. “It’s not even my first day yet, Mom. Can I at least take a breath?” There was a pleading tone in her voice.

The morning air was crisp. Gizem stood in front of the mirror in her room, checking her uniform: a navy blue skirt, a white shirt, and a slightly loose cardigan over it. Everything was in place, yet a wave of unease rippled through her. She quickly brushed her hair, staring at her reflection as a thought crossed her mind: Today, everything begins. Am I ready? She slung her backpack over her shoulders, grabbed her bicycle, and left the house.

As she pedaled through the narrow streets of the town, the wind hit her face, and the salty scent of the sea filled her lungs. Her thoughts raced against each other: Today is my first day at Kasaba Anatolian High School. They say it’s the best in town, always ranking at the top in exams. My old school in Istanbul was good, and my grades were high, but this place is on another level. It’s my final year, the university exam is right around the corner, and they placed me in 12-A—the top class. Everyone there is successful; they might even be better than me. I need to be careful. I need to work hard. I can’t fall behind in this race.

Her heart pounded, a heavy weight settling in her chest—a mix of pride and pressure.

The streets were slowly coming to life; groups of students walked together, some passed by on bicycles, and a few little kids ran around laughing. The school building appeared in the distance—a gray concrete structure, modern yet slightly worn, with large windows and a tall fence giving it a commanding presence. The sign at the entrance read “Kasaba Anatolian High School,” with “1978” written underneath, along with a small plaque: “Regional Champion – 2023.” A few trees in the yard swayed with the wind; students bumped their backpacks together playfully, while teachers chatted with coffee cups in hand.

Gizem locked her bicycle and threw her bag over her shoulder. A ball of excitement rolled inside her, but her palms were sweaty, and her fingers clenched the strap of her bag. When the bell rang, the hallways came alive all at once—footsteps, shouts, laughter. Old posters were pinned to the walls, one announcing an award from a math olympiad. Gizem stopped, taking a deep breath. This place is pure chaos, but I’m ready for it. But her steps were hesitant, her heart pounding in her chest.

She climbed the stairs, looking at the signs to find 12-A. At the end of the corridor, she spotted the classroom door: “12-A,” with “Science & Mathematics” written underneath. The best class, she thought. And I’m in it. As she opened the door, the noise inside suddenly died down. All eyes turned to her, and the air grew heavy. The desks were scattered; some had scribbles—things like “We passed the exam!”—while others were covered with open notebooks and pens. Torn posters hung on the walls, and in the corner, a worn-out world map dangled. The gray light coming through the windows cast a dim glow over the room, and chalk dust had gathered in the corner of the blackboard.

Gizem’s heart sped up. Her throat went dry, and she pressed her hands against her bag.

As she walked toward an empty seat, she took in a few faces:

Pınar, flipping her long black hair, whispering with Beste, her sharp eyes scanning Gizem with curiosity.

Emre, a cheerful, messy-haired boy, grinned when he noticed a plush keychain on his bag, mumbling something to Mert beside him.

Beyza sat in the corner, her short brown hair falling over her face as she sketched something in her notebook—quiet, peaceful.

Selin, hiding behind a thick book, her glasses resting on her nose, briefly looked up at Gizem before returning to her reading.

Kaan, in a hoodie by the window, staring out at the gray sky, his headphones leaking faint music.

Mert, standing casually beside Pınar, hands in his pockets.

And in the back row, a tall, athletic boy: Yiğit. His slightly wavy hair framed his face as he leaned against his desk, twirling a pen between his fingers, exuding confidence.

Gizem thought to herself: That’s the guy from the field. So, he’s in 12-A too.

Yiğit didn’t look around; he just kept twirling his pen between his fingers.

Pınar’s voice rose in a mocking whisper, “Who’s this? A tourist?”

Beste giggled. “Definitely! Just look at her bag.”

Emre’s eyes lit up with playful amusement. “Wait, is this a toy? Seriously, is this thing on your bag?”

Selin’s voice was calm but curious. “Are you new?” She lifted her head slightly from her book.

Mert, with a laid-back smirk, muttered, “Too cheerful… Definitely gonna be a troublemaker,” grinning at Pınar.

Gizem sat down, placing her bag beside her. As she did, a thought ran through her mind: Cold place, but I belong here. No giving up.

Just then, a commotion erupted from the front rows.

Mert turned to the class president, Selin, raising his voice. “Are we seriously taking notes again, Selin? Do you have to control everything?”

Selin put her book down and shot a sharp glare at him through her glasses. “Yes, I do. Because lazy guys like you mess up the whole class!” Her voice was firm, carrying a hint of frustration.

Mert slammed his hands on the desk. “I’m sick of your orders! What is this, a kingdom?”

Pınar chimed in with a sarcastic laugh. “Selin, looks like you’ve been crowned queen, and we didn’t even know!”

Selin’s cheeks flushed. “If you don’t study, this class will sink! Do you understand?!” she shouted, her voice shaking.

Emre grinned. “Alright, place your bets, folks! A fight’s about to break out!”

Kaan took out his earbuds and muttered in a firm voice, “Shut up. My head hurts.”

Gizem watched in disbelief, her eyes shifting between Mert and Selin. What is this? she thought, her heart pounding.

Yiğit finally lifted his head from the back row, rolling his eyes. “Like a bunch of kids,” he mumbled, but no one even heard him.

Beyza put her pen down and held her head in her hands, as if trying to escape the chaos.

Then, the classroom fell silent as their math teacher, Ayşe Hanım, walked in.She was middle-aged, with thin-rimmed glasses and a tightly wound bun, carrying a thick folder. Her sharp eyes scanned the room, as if she could sense the lingering tension.

“Is there a new student?” she asked, her voice crisp but tired.

Gizem raised her hand, her voice shaky but firm. “Me. I’m Gizem.”

Ayşe Hanım gave a faint smile, but her eyes remained serious. “Welcome. But let me be clear—if you don’t work hard, you won’t last here. There’s no room for laziness in 12-A.”

The class chuckled. Pınar rolled her eyes. Gizem’s chest tightened. She’s right, she thought. This is a tough place. But I have to be ready. The lesson began. A complex equation appeared on the board. Gizem listened intently, but her mind was still stuck on Mert and Selin’s argument. She raised her hand to answer a question, but her answer was wrong.

Emre laughed. “So, this is the one from Istanbul?” His voice carried a playful amusement.

Pınar whispered, “Even worse than Selin—she’s definitely trying to be the teacher’s favorite.”

Mert nodded. “Yeah, she’s trying too hard.”

When the recess bell rang, the class stirred. Mert was still teasing Selin. “One day, I’ll bring down your kingdom, just so you know!”

Selin clenched her teeth. “Do your homework first, then talk!”

Emre jumped in, laughing. “This fight is never-ending—round two at recess!”

Beyza quietly got up from her seat. “Why are they yelling so much?” she murmured softly.

Gizem took out a bag of cookies, a small smile forming on her lips. “Hey, everyone,” she said, her voice hopeful. “I thought we could get to know each other—what do you say?”

Pınar’s voice was sharp. “We don’t eat sweets, thanks.”

Beste giggled. “Yeah, who even eats this stuff?”

Emre grabbed one and grinned. “If it’s free, I’m in. Not bad.”

Selin accepted politely. “Thanks, that’s thoughtful of you.” But she was still fuming at Mert.

Beyza, shy but sincere, said, “I think it’s a nice idea,” stepping closer.

Kaan put on his headphones. “Not my problem,” he muttered.

Gizem thought to herself: This class is like a stage play—everyone playing a different role. She walked to the window, watching the students outside on the field. She remembered Yiğit but didn’t dwell on it. At lunch, she went down to the cafeteria. It was packed—plastic tables filled, trays clattering, laughter echoing. As she got in line, she accidentally bumped into someone’s tray—it was her homeroom teacher, Mr. Murat.

“Causing trouble on your first day?” he said with a teasing smirk.

Gizem’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry,” she murmured. “Still getting used to things.”

Mr. Murat smiled. “Relax. Everyone’s caught up in their own mess here.”

Gizem sat alone at a table. A moment later, Beyza joined her. “I usually sit alone too,” she said, her voice calm but warm. “Mind if I join?”

Gizem smiled. “Of course. Thanks.”

Across the cafeteria, Mert and Emre were joking around.

“If I mess with Selin again, she’ll probably chain me to the blackboard,” Mert laughed.

Emre smirked. “She should do it. She’d be doing the class a favor!”

In the afternoon, lessons resumed. When they returned to the classroom for Turkish class, the atmosphere was a little more tense. Pınar and Beste were whispering in the corner, occasionally glancing at Gizem and giggling. Gizem had sat at her desk, opened her notebook, when suddenly Pınar approached her with a piece of paper in hand. "Gizem, I think you dropped this," she said, her voice laced with fake politeness.

Gizem was surprised. "It's not mine," she muttered, but Pınar placed the paper on her desk and winked at Beste. The paper read, "The new girl is the class clown," accompanied by a cartoonish face. The class erupted in laughter—Emre was banging on the desk, and Mert was whistling. Gizem’s face turned bright red; she crumpled the paper and threw it on the desk, thinking to herself: What is this? Why did they do this? Her eyes filled with tears, but she clenched her lips to avoid crying.

Pınar smirked. "Oh, don't take it the wrong way, we were just joking!" she said, her voice dripping with sarcastic sweetness.

Beste couldn’t hold back her laughter. "Yeah, come on, have some fun! You're too serious!"

Selin furrowed her brows. "This is a joke? Are you serious?" she snapped, but no one paid attention to her.

Mert laughed. "Clown? I think 'court jester' suits you better!"

Emre jumped in, "Come on, we’re just welcoming the new girl!"

Gizem lowered her head, her hands trembling. Just then, Beyza quietly approached her and offered a handkerchief. "Don't mind them," she said softly, her voice gentle. "Sometimes they do stupid things like this."

Gizem took the handkerchief, her eyes on Beyza. "Why are they picking on me?" she whispered, her voice fragile.

Beyza shrugged. "I don’t know, but Pınar and Beste are like that—they pick on someone. I didn’t get used to it when I first came either." There was understanding in her eyes.

Gizem tried a small smile. "Thanks, Beyza," she said, her voice filled with gratitude.

Beyza smiled shyly. "It’s nothing. If you want, we can go down to the garden at recess, get some fresh air?"

Gizem nodded. "That sounds good. Maybe it’ll help." A warmth passed through her: Maybe I’ve found a friend here.

When the bell rang, Pınar and Beste were still giggling, and Mert and Emre were joking around. As Gizem packed up her bag, she accidentally dropped Pınar’s notebook.

Pınar turned angrily. "Watch where you're going!"

Gizem panicked. "Sorry, it wasn’t intentional," she said, her voice shaky.

Beyza intervened. "It’s okay, it’ll pass," she said softly, lightly touching Gizem’s arm.

When she got home, she called out to her mother, a mix of exhaustion and curiosity in her voice. "Mom, the class is like a stage, everyone’s playing a different role."

Nuray answered from the kitchen, her voice firm but full of love. "Mind your own business, Gizem, don't get involved in gossip, okay?"

Hakan lifted his head from the couch, his eyes soft. "I was quiet on my first day at work too. You'll get used to it, dear."

Nuray came into the living room with a plate in her hand, furrowing her brows. "The practice exams are coming up soon. You need to be ready, this year is important."

Gizem sighed. "Mom, it's just my first day," she said, her voice pleading. "Can you give me some time?"

Nuray paused, concern flashing in her eyes. "I can't give you time. The lessons are going to get tougher fast. Don't get too comfortable like in Istanbul; this place is different."

Gizem put her hands on her face. "Okay, I get it, but I'm so tired, the class was insane."

Nuray's voice softened. "What do you mean 'insane'? What happened?" she asked, sitting beside her with curiosity.

Gizem smiled. "Everyone's in their own world—one is really quiet, one is sarcastic, just a bunch of strange people."

Hakan laughed. "Just like life. Everyone has their own story," he said, his gaze drifting far away.

Nuray put her hand on Gizem's shoulder. "Just focus on yourself, everything else will work out," she said, her voice full of assurance.

Gizem retreated to her room and wrote in her journal: Day 1: Chaos, fights, jokes, one friend (Beyza). My goals are still intact!