From Girl to Dog (Survivors Fanfic)

Terrible Teacher

I stroll down the tenth grade hallway. People stare at me, and whisper into their friends' ears. I ignore everybody, trying to find my locker. The hallways shine with cleanliness, the walls painted a fancy, grayish color. I still sneak down the hallway, still trying to find my locker.
234...235...236...237. Finally, I find it, 240, I stare down at my schedule, searching for the combination. I begin to turn the lock for the combination.
23...8...12. I lift the latch and it opens, I grasp the door, the door creaks while I open it.
The locker shines like the hallway, super clean and even smells like lemons. On the small shelf sits a piece of paper, folded neatly. I cautiously grab it and open it. Written on the paper, it says "Welcome to North Middle School, home of the Wolves!" The neat note makes me smirk.
I don't feel welcome. I notice it's signed by the principle, Jonathan Gabriel. I open my little backpack, which I stuffed full of school crap. I pull out my trapper-keeper organizer, along with my mechanical pencils, and other school stuff.
My arms full with school supplies, I march to my primetime teacher, Ms. Smith. It's like kids know where I'm going, "Good luck with her!
"Boy I'm glad I'm not you!"
"Oh man, that teacher sucks!" I cautiously sneak into the room, everyone gazes at me. I find a spot next to some girls who look friendly.
"Hi! Who are you?" one of them asks, a tall, blonde, with thin-lensed glasses, she wears a bulky, red, rose clip in her boy-cut hair.
"M-my name is Brook Ellen," I say quietly.
"My name is Emily Roberts," the blonde says.
"I'm Morgan Roberts. I'm sisters with Emily," a long haired, brunette says, with a purple bow on the back of her head.
"I'm Alaina Rogers," a bob-cut, red-head says, wearing an "I Love Dogs" t-shirt. I could tell Alaina and I were going to be best friends from our love of dogs. Then it hit me,
"Have you guys ever read Survivors by Erin Hunter?" I ask the girls. Morgan widens her eyes in shock.
"Survivors? We've read that whole series!" she announces. Alaina nods in agreement.
"It's my favorite series I've ever read!" she says excitedly. Emily smiles.
"We all love the-" she stops, her eyes wide with fear.
Alaina and Morgan cower away, I stare at them confused. Then Emily points behind me, I turn my head to stare at whatever they're afraid of. There in front of me stands the teacher, Ms. Smith, a scrawny, hideous woman, wearing tons of make up, making her look like a raccoon. Her hair, greasy, and wrapped in a bun, her hair colored red, not a natural hair color. She wears a shirt, stained and tore up. While her skirt, also stained and tore up, her sneakers look like they're fifty years old.
"You must be..." - she looks at her student list - "Brook Ellen?"
"Yes..." I murmur.
"Well Brook, there are many things you'll need to know." For passing minutes she gives me a lecture about how strict she acts and how I shouldn't talk without raising my hand and so on. I start to fall asleep. When my eyelids shut, something hard, and cold slaps my hand. My eyes burst open, Ms. Smith lays her ruler on my hand, with a scowl on her face.
"Another thing, don't fall asleep in my class!" she screams. In that moment, panic overwhelms me, I need to get out of there.
     In the corner of my eye, a bright light shines in my backpack. I dig inside and take out my Survivors book. I spot light shining on the pages; I take a single scrawny finger and touch the light. Everything goes blank.