I sit on a dingy gray couch waiting for someone to show up to tell me where to go. From my investigation, the school has a decent grade average, and compared to other schools in the area, fewer students have been brought in for drug-related infractions. Good, I can focus on my mission. A woman with a smile like Charlene's hands me a sheet of paper and a spiral that reads 'SCHEDULE' on it. "The first few pages are comprised of the student handbook, the rest is just to help you keep track of your assignments and classwork. A member of the student council is going to give you the grand tour and then show you to your first hour." Then she strides behind her desk, where she begins typing with a fury and answering the phone, which seems to ring every other minute. So, I sit on the ugly couch and look at the bleak walls that surround the room. It is painted an ugly, over-cooked egg yolk color.
A boy walks in, and I stand to greet him. He looks smart in his sweater vest and prescription glasses. The redheaded boy keeps his gaze low and doesn't look up. I go to extend my hand and introduce myself when the office lady addresses him. Clearing her throat, she looks at him with a sympathetic frown, which is the most I’ve seen her face change since I got here. "Lance! The councilor is down that hall for your session today." I don't think I should follow him...After another 10 minutes, I am ready to give myself the tour, but the door bursts open and a coffee-colored blur of a girl barrels into the office, disheveled. At the desk, she leans forward intensely, repeating, "Sorry, I'm late!" Office Charlene reassures her that she's not upset, to which the girl's pitch drops and she softly inquires, "Wait, is the principal mad?" I let Charlene #2 contend with her as I gather my things; it's about time I figure out where my classes are.
I hear them say something about a new student as I am about to open the door, so I look over my shoulder and see Charlene #2 pointing at me not so discreetly, and the girl does a double-take before turning back to the woman with desperation in her eyes. "No, I wasn't supposed to do it this time. It was Molly's turn," she looks at me and her eyes go wide, "Also, I have two tests to take."
I don't know who this Molly girl is, but I am curious if her desperation is purely grade-oriented. I want to give her an out because after this scene, the idea of forcing her to give a spiel is unwelcome. I make my way to the desk to excuse myself to use the map to find my classes.
"Molly's sick today. And, surely, you can explain the tests to your teachers and retake them. But if you keep arguing about this, you may truly miss both tests," threatens Charlene #2, “You ran for student council, you knew your responsibilities as such, young lady. I advise you to change your tone.”
"Ugh! Fine, Janet," she hisses. She lowers her head as she turns my direction. After three awkward seconds in this position, she lifts her head and her entire demeanor changes, "Hello and welcome to Crestmont High! I will be showing you around today. May I see your schedule?" Her hand shoots out in my direction. She seems happy, but I notice that the joy doesn't quite reach her eyes; the shift is unnerving.
"Uh... Here," I hand it to her and she snatches it from my hands whilst speed walking out of the door. I grapple then with trying to follow behind her lightning feet. I feel clumsy as I catch up to her, but her eyes are forward on a mission. "Crestmont High opened in 1943. To your left is the placard we keep in honor of the first principal of the institution, Grady Friar. The placard has the Latin phrase, "Memento audere semper," which means "remember to dare". The principal believed the best students are ones who take the risk of admitting to what they do not know. He himself was a risk-taker and enjoyed riding bulls during each spring break; he would always head to his brother's ranch and ride." I stare at the placard as we pass, and the framed photo of a man in black and white holding on to a bucking bull. "His passion for the pastime is what gave us our mascot, the bulls."
She continues on with the history of the school absent-mindedly and pausing only to point out some doors along the way: resource officers, speech therapist, IT, etc. She speaks with a cheery cadence in her voice, but there is a pressure to her words, as if she is trying to take as few breaths as possible to communicate the information. If I could use my powers right now, I would pause time just so that she wouldn't worry about how long this is taking and simply breathe.
We reach the next hallway, "This is the Freshman hallway, and the people here are short. So, make sure to watch your step.” She turns to me and winks, and I try to repress my laugh as the joke lands; it comes out as a snort, which once again, she fails to acknowledge.
I take larger strides until I am at her shoulder, staring down at my schedule in her hands, "What's your name?"
I can almost hear the record scratch as she stops in her tracks. When she turns around, her face is blank, trying to get her bearings. I feel like I just interrupted a performance, but the deer-in-headlights look fades, and this time a genuine smile crosses her face. "Sorry, you're right, that was rude of me. I'm Elly. I don't normally forget introductions, I guess the pressure threw me off a bit," She extends her hand, and I take it. We shake awkwardly for a moment, and the jitter of her hand makes me reconsider my earlier notion that I won't have to pull a 21 Jump Street on this school.
"It's okay, I'm Johnathan," I say, as she is looking at the schedule, registering the details for the first time. She nods her head briefly and scans my schedule for another moment or two before returning to me.
"I also apologise for my deplorable reaction to seeing you earlier." I'm about to wave it off, but she continues, "I mean, it's not like you're ugly or anything," she shuffles her feet. What? Why would she say that?
“Gee, thanks. Great to know it wasn't because I’m ugly…” I start down the hallway. I can get back to the office by myself; I'll just ask for a new copy of my schedule and figure out the rest on my own.
I hear her shoes squeak behind me as she catches up, she's muttering to herself, "filter, Elly, filter". When she catches up, she grabs my forearm and addresses me, "I'm sorry, that was really rude. I had my hopes up that maybe I could help my friend and fix her up with a cute guy. But now that I see you, I'm not sure you are her type. I mean, don't get me wrong, you do have a charm about you. It's just you seem old, or older than I thought... Don't think about it really. The words came out before I could even think to filter them. You seem fine, honest!"
I'm annoyed, but inside, I am panicking, because she can tell I am not a Junior in high school. I don't want to blow my cover before I've even begun my mission. This just means I need to take note of what I am doing wrong already. Ultimately, I feel sorry for the friend she was supposedly trying to "help". I feel like I need to keep an eye on her, "Cool," I toss out lamely.
Some new thought seems to occur to her because her eyes widen and she croons, "Jeez, I don't even know why you moved here. You could be dealing with some really awful crap, and I have just been- I am so sorry. That was insensitive and shallow. Everyone else is nice and much better at this whole talking thing, I swear!" At this point, I am as eager as she was to make this tour short.
She apologises about ten more times, and we continue with the tour. I see the other three halls for the other grades, and my locker is conveniently located right in front of the junior hall. Most of my classes are in this hallway, except for newspaper and my Spanish class. She makes jokes as she goes and proceeds to show me the theater, band, and choir classrooms.
“The group of us that live down here are okay, but it can get a little loud and passionate, so my advice is to be cautious. I dated a trumpet once; he treated me like a goddess, but he never had a lot of free time, and - between you and me - he was a little greasy. I can’t attest for dating girls in this hall because that’s not how I swing, but I’m sure they’re like any others,” she says.
I feel like slamming my head through the brick wall. I just want to get to my class. Elly, ever unaware of her own lack of discretion and social cues, once more gasps, "I'm sorry, I just assumed you were straight, I have no idea if you even like girls! I take back what I said, the guys down this hall are pretty fantastic. And if you aren't out yet, I could probably convince my friend to fake date you to save face. The way you wear your uniform is very straight passing, by the way."
To keep my jaw from falling to the floor, I put my face in my hands, why hasn't this tour ended yet? I am dying to sit in a math lecture at this point. Just because I don't want unnecessary attention from rumors, I grumble, "I'm straight." If Zandor doesn't get the chance to kill me, this conversation will have already done the job. I can look up all of the information I need about here online, but to get this conversation back in a less mortifying direction, I ask, "What clubs are there?"
“Oh, uh… Nobody really participates in clubs anymore unless they are interested in leadership… There’s, like, drama club, but they focus on plays and live theater… Wait, you’re not actually consi- You know what? That’s amazing news! I can get you in there no problem, the auditioning season is over, but if you know a monologue or can prepare something, I am sure we can arrange your involvement in club activities!” Judging from how we were standing in the performance corridor when I asked the question, she must think I care about that one in particular... I don't, but she is skipping down the hall to the gymnasium. The tour doesn't last much longer, and I am taken through the two courts and shown the lunch commons. I recognize the hallway that leads back to the office, and I've never felt such relief for such an ugly room.
With hall passes in hand, we head in the direction of our respective classes. But just as I am about to escape her, Elly grabs my backpack strap, "If you need anything or have questions, feel free to ask me or an administrator. If you have social media, follow me; my handle is easy to find. Oh, and it's about to be third period, so you'll want to head to the newspaper room," she smooths her hair and says, "See you soon!" with a smile as she bounces down the hallway toward her locker, presumably.137Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjvarvYQn45
I don't know what I need for class, so I grab an empty spiral notebook and my pencil case leaving the rest in my locker. I notice her then heading in the same direction I need to go, huh, weird. I follow behind her, but much slower because our prescribed time together is over. We have now walked to the opposite side of the school, where I remember the newspaper room to be. Reflecting on the tour, I wonder why she had to take two hours, and I sift through the details of it to see if I can make sense of it. Most of it was history about the school and jokes about the social climate here, and without a schedule walk-through, the locations are scrambled in my head. On the wall, there’s a poster for the play and another about Friday's football game. I don't plan on attending either, but they will be good to think about in my newspaper class. I've begun wondering why Elly thought I needed to know the average attendance of their football games, when the bell rings and the familiar rumble of shuffling chairs and hurried feet signals the oncoming flood. 137Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJltvB8qxk0
I glance back in the direction of the lockers and wonder why students avoid using them. Carrying a lot of books isn’t convenient, but it’s easier than lugging around a backpack filled with books. The bodies fill the wide hallway, and I, without thinking, try to walk through the door before everyone's out. I find myself pinned between the wall and a backpack, and as I shove my way out and get to the doorway, I collide with a girl, causing her notebook to fall to the floor, and looking down, her glasses slide from her nose, about to hit the floor. I quickly freeze time and put my hand below them, and when time resumes, they are safely in my hand.
She seems annoyed, and I notice that her backpack is loaded and unzipped. I am so thankful that it wasn't a laptop she had in her hands. I hold the glasses out to her. Her features rearrange into grateful puzzlement, trying to make sense, I assume, of how I reacted so fast. It was reckless, but glasses are expensive. As she replaces her glasses, I pick up the notebook. She straightens her Dolphins t-shirt and looks at me expectantly. "Uh, yeah, I'm sorry. Didn't see you rushing at me... earlier..." I look around, not entirely sure why I am apologizing.
"Good, I need to make it to my AP Chem class.” Her hand is extended, and I almost take it, unsure of why. “My stuff?” Duh!137Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoAkMWfNpqi
I put them in her hands as the next apology slips out, “Oh, um, sorry.” She walks away, but just to be sure I'm not mistaken, I follow shortly and ask, “By the way, that's the newspaper room, right?”
She snorts, “I don't really have time for pretty new boys. But yeah, that's the room, clueless. Better head back before you get counted late." She briefly pats me on the shoulder before using the contact to brush past me.
"What's your name?" I blurt. I want some kind of "friend" on day one, and my tour guide, Elly? Was it? Well, she's not my first pick, to say the least.
She whips around, irritated, "What's it-" 137Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLC6yrNd5Oy
"So I can try to make it up to you later, and you can get to AP Chem," I say, cutting her off.
"Maria Helvetti," she spins back in the direction of her chemistry class and disappears into the sea of slow-moving bodies. Confused, but pleased to have survived that, I take a deep breath and go into the musty Journalism class and introduce myself to Mr. Daley.
Mr. Daley is a spry young man who looks like he could work for the New York Times. He seems eager for the class and is organizing the whiteboard. The room is severely lacking a budget; there are 4 desk tops and a printer, but from the looks of it, everyone in this course has brought their own laptop. I die inside because, of course, this is why everyone just carries their backpack everywhere. I resolve to sit close to the desk tops, but the room is already divided into groups. I can't figure out the pattern of the groupings, then Elly strides into the room.
I groan internally and look for literally any other table to join. I sit down at a table that is mostly girls, and I am settled for all of two seconds. I look up and they are leaning together, whispering and casting glances at me that make me highly uncomfortable. I push the chair back in and look for any other open seats, and it's just my luck that the only one is at Elly's table. I sigh and resign myself to the fate, hoping that the other girl at the table isn't as outspoken. The girl next to her has her head down, but I can see how pale she is, contrasted by the warmth of her hair, like hot chocolate.
"Hey," I say, setting my stuff down. Elly is busy with a document on her computer.
The other girl’s head bobs up from her phone, and she smiles a pleasant smile before turning to talk to Elly. Is this the friend that Elly was trying to set up? She looks nice enough. Her lips are a rich red in contrast to her pale skin, and the caveman in my brain thinks vaguely about what it'd be like to kiss her. She starts to make this weird face, and it dawns on me that I have been staring at her lips, saying nothing for an uncomfortable amount of time. “Sorry,” I mumble nervously. "Your make-up, it's pretty."
Elly, not even realizing the awkwardness, cuts in, "So, Luna, Molly called in sick again today. You would think maybe, being student body president, she should care more about her school attendance? Either way, I missed two tests because of her, can you believe that? I mean, get over it, Charlie cheated on her again, this is time number 3? She should expect it at this point and just leave him for good." I shift in my seat, and her eyes land on me. "Oh, this is Johnathan," She lazily gestures to me, and her eyes say something that I can't understand to this Luna girl.
Not that Luna seemed to be paying any attention, as she is back on her phone and typing out a series of messages. Elly gives her a slight nudge, and startled, Luna looks up again, waving at me.
"Do you mind me sitting here? So far, you are the only person I know, and I'm not certain I want to meet the others yet; it's overwhelming," I chuckle. I glance over at the table of girls from before and notice one of them has taken to pulling her bra strap into view from underneath her uniform, and the buttons at her collar are now suddenly undone. I avert my eyes, and Elly, catching sight of the girls, makes a show of yawning.
Mr. Daley begins class with a brief introduction of me to the class. It's not torturous the way it felt growing up. As he begins the droll of article assignments, I settle into taking notes. I passively take note of the way Luna's head settles on her arms, and her breathing slows. It's cute, but also understandable, and I try to make sure my handwriting is extra neat in case she has questions. Elly, while lacking social awareness and a filter, is in her element making suggestions and typing furiously. She might be a good resource after all, whether as an informant or an investigator. Now, I just need to hope that Zandor sticks to his latest patterns and doesn't commit his next crime while I am taking notes on proper citation technique.
ns216.73.217.39da2
and then Add to home screen.