High School Musical

Period

Wanted!

It all happened last year. I was in seventh grade at Northley Middle School and not exactly making a name for myself. With my dull looks and even duller personality, hardly anyone even knew who I was. I walked the halls like an invisible ghost. Even the teachers forgot my name half the time. “You’re Jamie, right?” I daydreamed all the time about what it would be like to be noticed, what it would be like to actually be wanted.

So it was just another typical day for me at Northley Middle School when my fantasy became a reality. As usual, I was sitting alone at my lunch table, my face buried in a book. At least I was a good student. I looked up to see Mr. Smith, the drama teacher, at the microphone. He was announcing that the school play tryouts would take place that day after school. The play was High School Musical which happened to be my favorite. Not that I would ever have had the guts to try out. I went back to reading.

“Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?” I looked up from my book and noticed this kid had sat down across from me. I had never seen him before at Northley. Was he on the other team? Was he new? All I could tell was that he was cute. He had blond hair falling over his sky blue eyes. He smiled at me, flashing these ultra white teeth. No one ever did this, smile at me, so I didn’t even know how to react. He repeated his question.

“Doesn’t it sound like fun? The musical, I mean.”

“If you have the guts to try out, I guess.”

“And you don’t?” he asked.

“No way!” I exclaimed. “They wouldn’t want me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Cause no one ever does.” Okay, I just met this kid and I was already acting like such a loser.

“Too bad. My name is Sean, by the way.”

“Are you new?”

“You could say that. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” I replied.

“So, you really don’t think that anyone wants you?”

“Can’t you tell? Do you see anyone at my lunch table?”

“I guess not,” he admitted. “So tell me. If you could have anything—anything in the world-- that’s what you’d want? To be wanted?”

“Doesn’t everyone want to be wanted?”

“I suppose. Anyway,” he said, standing up. “I have to go. I think I’m supposed to get a tour or something. It was nice meeting you. Really.”

Before this new kid Sean turned to leave, he handed me a card. I read it as he walked out of the cafeteria. It said, “Your wish is my command.” Strange, I thought. Did the new kid think he was some kind of genie? Was he mental?

The bell rang soon after Sean left the cafeteria. I got up to put my tray away and moved on to my locker. The strangest thing happened at my locker. A group of girls—popular girls who barely knew my name—came up to me and started chatting with me. It was like we were friends. Then in math class, my homework buddy asked me if I had a boyfriend. He even asked for my cell number. And Mr. Smith, the math teacher, suddenly knew my name. “Jamie, would you please collect the homework for me?” he asked. Maybe that new kid, Sean, had some magic going for him afterall.

As I walked from class to class that afternoon, I was surprised by all the attention I was suddenly getting. It came from everywhere—both the kids and teachers. Even the principal pulled me out of homeroom to talk to me. But after school, things took an ugly turn. As I walked home, I noticed that there were these FBI posters plastered all over the place. They were on trees, mailboxes, and telephone polls. Curious, I stopped to look at one. And there I was, there was a picture of me under the big bold letters: WANTED.

The poster said that I was wanted for armed robbery and there was a reward offered to anyone who had information on my whereabouts. I ripped the poster off of the tree and ran home. When I got inside my door, I ran to the television and turned on the news. There was an emergency bulletin announcing the search was on for WANTED armed robber, Jamie Robbins. That was me. The FBI wanted me!

I thought back to the strange kid at the lunch table. Maybe he was a genie after all. It was obvious that he wasn’t very good at his job though. Who would wish to be WANTED by the FBI? Before I could think any more about this, I heard a bang on the door. “FBI!” someone shouted. I was terrified, but I had no choice but to answer. They were threatening to break down the front door. As I opened the door, an officer burst into my house and told me to get down on the floor. He knelt down and put handcuffs on me. He didn’t seem to care that I was crying like a baby, scared out of my mind. “Jamie Robbins? You are wanted by the FBI!” he stated.