Homeroom

1: The Last First Day

"Callie, you better be up!" my dad shouts from the hallway. He bangs on the door for good measure.

I jolt awake, rolling to the side and falling out of my bed. I land on the hardwood floor with a loud thud. "Give me five more minutes!" I shout tiredly at the door, making my bed in record-breaking speed.

I rip off my pajamas and throw them in the corner of my cluttered room as I toss on a random t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I hop over to the bathroom while tying my shoes. To be completely frank, I'm surprised I didn't trip and break a leg on something.

Stumbling down the stairs, I slam the front door behind me and run down the concrete steps. I bolt down the middle of the street, cutting in front of honking cars. The sun is already peaking over the Pennsylvanian treeline, so I shield my eyes from the burning rays as I run down the block to school. I take the stairs two at a time before reaching for the door at the entrance of East Valley High School. My dad is literally going to kill me if I get detention on the first day of my senior year.

For this reason, I don't walk into the office to pick up a late pass. Instead, I sneak past the office and dart to homeroom in classroom 220.

I bolt up two stacks of stairs before reaching the second floor, and I continue running down a couple halls before reaching the classroom. The strap of my backpack falls off of my shoulder, and I hastily push it back up, wrinkling my t-shirt.

"I can explain," I announce blindly when I whip the classroom door open.

I realize too late that the classroom is dead-silent, and I pretty much just caused a scene. All the students turn around in their seats to stare at me, and the teacher looks up from the papers in her hands.

I brush the flyaway brown hairs out of my eyes and apologize for my tardiness to the 20-some-year-old teacher with a fake tan.

The blonde-haired teacher sighs, annoyed that I interrupted whatever she just said. "Just sit down."

I glance at the student standing next to her, and it becomes quite obvious that interrupted a new student introduction session. In a small town like East Valley, we never get new students, especially not ones wearing AC/DC shirts. A smirk plays on his lips as he watches me, small dimples pressing deep into his tanned cheeks. His eye contact becomes too intense for me to handle, so I look away from him, readjusting my backpack on my left shoulder.

"Sure, yeah, I'll sit," I peep, pointing at the closest desk to me. I awkwardly shuffle over to my desk, tripping slightly on my own shoelaces. Some people snicker, but I ignore them as I slide into my seat.

I half-listen to the teacher as I bring my foot onto the edge of my chair, tying my laces. I really couldn't give a crap what she's saying; she looks and sounds like she's fresh out of college. There is no way that anyone is going to respect her, and I doubt if she'd be able to control the classroom once students' behaviors start slipping.

She clears her throat before speaking. "As I was saying, we have a new student this year named, uh—"

"Aaron," the boy says, modestly waving once to the class before pushing some of his wavy hair out of his eyes. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans, glancing at the ground shyly.

"Nice accent," I comment under my breath as I finish tying my shoe. His voice has a sweet drawl to it, almost like he's from the south. Crossing my legs, I use the empty chair in front of me as a footstool.

"Well, Aaron, pick any seat that you'd like," the annoying woman says. I pull out the loose leaf of paper from my backpack and look at the name next to my homeroom number. Ah, her name is Mrs. McKenna.

Woah, wait. Mrs. McKenna? How in the world is she married if she just graduated from—

"Can you please move your feet? It's the only seat left," the southern boy says, pointing at the chair in front of me.

"Password," I reply automatically, still looking over my schedule. Who the heck decided to put me in Early Childhood Development? Do those guidance counselors think I got pregnant over the summer?

"Uh—"

"Guys, really?" the teacher screeches from the front of the classroom. "Stop talking and sit down."

Ugh, her nasally voice makes me want to stick pencils in my ears.

I ignore Mrs. McKenna and look up at Aaron, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I smile sweetly at him, "Wrong. The password was peach cobbler."

I pull my feet off the seat and slide them between the metal bars of the basket connected to the bottom of his chair.

A smirk forms on his lips as he says, "Huh, never heard that one before." He tosses his backpack under the desk and glances at me again. "But if you're doing to go there, you might as well just call me a redneck."

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[A/N] Did you guys like the first chapter? Comment which parts you laughed at, if any. :)