In the past years, freshmen sat on the other side of the yellow brick road. The stack of chairs was right by a group of junior boys, who, to the freshman, were guarding the chairs as if they were for upperclassmen only. Alternatively, each clique crowded around just a few tables, squeezing everyone in by sharing chairs and leaving their lunch boxes on the floor.  So, squished they were, the freshmen would lean into each other talking about their overload of work and stressful classes. After getting a bit off track to gossip about the daring freshman dating a sophomore, promptly at 12:30 they would pack up their things and head to class, ten minutes early under Brad O’Ryan’s instruction.

This year, the commons are absolutely empty. Ten tables spread across the freshman territory as scattered chairs touch the edge of the road. Most upperclassmen gladly take the chairs back across the yellow brick road. Some question where all the freshman disappear to, while many don’t notice their absence.  

So where do the freshmen go? Some say they’re forming a cult, while others say their just socially awkward nerds. Some strays linger around the halls or set up stations in the library. I’ve even seen some in the math department or in Riff Burrs’s room.

But the truth is that those are the spies, the ones who sneak around all incognito taking notes to report back to sweet sweet Misty.

Through the halls, down the back staircase, through the school maze, behind the gym, and back towards the janitor’s office, hundreds of heads bob around in the small corridor. Towards the back of the hall, Misty stands passing out cookies and free hugs. Rosy-faced freshman shuffle against each other forming a disarranged line in front of Miss Missy. Excited squeals are passed among freshmen as they patiently wait for their daily burst of kindness from Misty because it’s their only escape from upperclassmen hazing.