No Strings Attached

Chapter 7

I put my door on the handle and turned before saying, "Catch you later."

"You might," he sighed, turning his attention back to the T.V. and waving me off.

--

The walk was not long, and before I knew it, I was standing at the entrance of John Quincy High School. There were already a lot of students out in the quad area and filing into the building. It was an old, brick structure, but it took up a lot of land. It was three stories high and had at least ten classrooms on each level. Another building, not quite as large nor as old, sat to the right and looked like it could be the gym or auditorium—perhaps both. Behind that was what I assumed to be the cafeteria. To the left of the main building was a basketball court, and I saw grass poking out from behind the building—most likely a soccer field. The front was a wide sidewalk intersecting one going across, with grass in between. Here and there, a flowerbed lie and larger ones had a single leafy tree. Directly in the center of the quad, where the sidewalks met, a huge flag pole stood. The American Flag waved proudly in the sky, with the Massachusetts symbol right beneath it.

Suddenly, I became extremely nervous. Knots twisted in the pit of my stomach and my grip tightened on the strap of my backpack and the plastic handles of my grocery bag with binders. My white knuckles refused to relax and I broke out in minor cold sweats. I exhaled sharply in determination. I have nothing to worry about, I thought, hoping my fake confidence would magically turn real. I'm a Littleton.

I made my way to the front office for my locker combo and schedule and whatever else I needed. The office was right at the entrance, so I made a mental note not to do anything stupid right outside the front doors. The secretary was typing viciously away at the Mac on the desk, and I had to clear my throat in order for her to notice I was there.

"Oh, hello!" she said cheerfully. "Welcome to your first day back at Quincy! What can I get you?"

"I need my locker information and my schedule, please," I said politely. "My name is Tegan Littleton. I'm a senior."

She nodded and stood up, heading to the filing cabinet.

While I waited, I looked around the room. There was a younger student barely conscious in a chair holding an ice pack to his head.

Oh, boy. The freshman tormenting has already begun, I thought. I wanted to ask what happened to him, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything.

"Alrighty, dear!" the secretary said, returning to the desk. "Your locker number is 864—a corner, you lucky ducky—and here is your combo." She wrote down the numbers 13, 15, 27 on a sticky note and handed it to me. "This is your schedule. Looks like you signed up for a lot of AP classes."

I didn't really appreciate her looking at my schedule, but I smiled anyway and took the paper from her.

"I'm Ms. McCarthy if you need anything else. Have a great first day!"

"Thanks," I muttered and turned around. I ran right into the chest of a huge guy, and dropped my bag of binders.

"Sorry," I said clumsily, leaning down to pick up my stuff.

He huffed and didn't even bother to help me. He just asked the secretary in a deep and demanding voice, "I need my schedule."

I left the building as quickly as possible and sat against the outside of the building, trying to figure out where I was supposed to go. Conveniently, a map of the school was printed on the back of my schedule. Lockers were back through the building I had just exited. So I stood up and headed in that direction. I turned right at the office and went through a door. Behind it was a huge hallway with tons of students. A couple eyes turned to me when I opened the door and I immediately became extremely self-aware. I clutched my bag to my chest and made a beeline to the senior corridor, avoiding physical contact with anyone.

Finally, I reached my locker. Sure enough, the combination Ms. McCarthy gave me worked. I was happy that I had a full-sized locker now. In the past it had always been the small ones three feet tall. Now I had one that was nearly six feet, leaving plenty of room for all that I needed.

I didn't really use that room. I stuffed in my backpack and plastic bag and glanced at my schedule to see what I would need first. AP Psychology, Room 24, Mr. Rowan. I grabbed a binder and a folder, deciding that I would label them both later.

"Hey," I heard a voice say to the right of me.

I turned abruptly and was looking directly into the eyes of a strikingly handsome guy. His cheekbones were nothing short of perfect and that jawline...

"You're locker 864, I see?" he asked.

I blinked. "Uh...mm...y-yeah," I stuttered.

He grinned at my flabbergasted response. "Well, I'm 865. Looks like we'll be getting to know each other quite a bit over the year, huh?"

Is he flirting with me? "Guess so," I said awkwardly.

He stuck out his hand. "Parker. Parker Stevens."

I stared at his hand for a moment before I realized he was introducing himself. "Oh! Uh...Tegan." I shook his hand, and holy crap did he have a firm grasp. He's so hot, I internally gawked.

"Let me see your schedule. I'll see if we have any classes together," he suggested. I handed mine over and watched his green eyes compare our classes. As he saw which ones I signed up for, he raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Wow, that's quite a lot of AP. Smart girl?"

I blushed. "I'm not that smart. Just like to challenge myself."

"I see," he said as he handed my schedule back. "How come you're not taking AP Calculus? I would have looked forward to have had you with me there."

"I took that as a sophomore," I said nonchalantly, and realized how insane that sounded. Don't mention you got a 5 on it, Tegan. That would just be bragging.

Parker's jaw dropped a little. "Awesome. That's...wow."

I chuckled nervously and closed my locker door. "Well, any other classes we'll see each other in?"

"I'll save you a seat in AP World History." He smirked and walked away.

Frazzled, I leaned back against my locker and sighed. Whoa.

Suddenly, the five-minute warning bell echoed through the halls and I snapped out of my daze.

Alright. Where the hell is Room 24?