The night before the first day of school, I couldn't sleep. I was too busy worrying.

First of all, I worried about what I was going to wear. I wanted to wear something nice, something that set the tone for the year, something that made me feel good.

But everything I tried on didn't feel right. I put on corduroy bellbottoms -- too heavy and hot. A cotton Indian skirt and shirt, in a paisley print -- too flower child. Blue sailor pants -- too boyish. Nothing felt right. Nothing was me.

In fact, I didn't know exactly who I was. Anymore.

I'd been away to camp all summer. I'd had really close friends at camp, friends who wrapped my hair around huge juice cans with large bobby pins to keep my hair stick-straight, friends I played all-day games of Risk with, friends who I wrote songs with, friends who I swam across the lake with.

Now I worried about who I would be friends with at home. I didn't feel close to anybody, especially not to my two former closest friends, Debbie Rose and Karen Bloom, who had spent their summer together. They'd already told me stories about the fun they'd had going water skiing and riding their bikes to the beach and hanging out with my boyfriend, Eugene Pasillio.

I felt on the outside of things. Friendless and unsure of myself.

I worried that I would have Mr. Van den Heek for chemistry class. I'd heard that he was a hard grader and gave homework every night.

I worried about where my locker would be and where I would eat.

I worried about how I would find my classes.

My mother said: Don't worry. You'll do just fine. But I didn't feel fine.

I spoke to Eugene on the phone. He said that he wasn't worried at all about high school. One teacher was the same as another, one school as bad as the next.

But I cared. I was a good student. I wanted to enjoy high school, to do well, to feel part of things.

The next day, my homeroom teacher called me Shirley instead of Sherri.

I couldn't find chemistry class and Mr. Van den Heek glared at me when I walked in late.

I was the last in lunch line and all that was left was a burned corner of baked ziti.

Debbie and Karen ignored me.

I couldn't remember the combination to my locker.

At the end of the day, I was just happy that it was over.

I waited outside for Eugene. He walked out laughing with Debbie and Karen.

Then he took my hand.

The four of us walked together and talked about our terrible teachers.

Eugene did a great imitation of Mr. Van den Heek.

Then he turned to me. "I'm building up my shoulders," he said. "Hop on."

He squatted down and I put my legs over his shoulders and he lifted me and we walked home that way, my legs dangling over his chest.

And I forgot all about Mr. Van den Heek and the strange hallways and the locker that wouldn't open.

I forgot about feeling strange and lost and friendless.

I felt like I was on top of the world.