Forever & Always

Chapter 3

She nodded, still looking very displeased and scrolled through her computer screen. "Name?" she whispered to me. 

"Riley Jackson," I responded. 

She scrolled through something on her screen, moving very slowly as she went. I kept looking at the clock on the wall. Classes started at 7:40 and it was 7:32. 

"Did you find it?" I asked, but she "shushed" me. 

Then, without warning, she hung up the phone. "Damn people, kept me on hold this whole time." 

She grabbed a sticky note and started writing something down on it. I stared at her for a minute. So, you just wasted like ten minutes of my time, and shushed me because you were on hold? I thought there was someone on the other line! She handed me the Post-It with my locker number and combination on it, and then sent a copy of my schedule to the printer behind her. She grabbed it when it had finished and handed it to me. 

"Now, hurry up, you're going to be late to first period." Because of you! I wanted to say, but I was good and kept my mouth shut. 

"No shit, I'm going to be late," I muttered under my breath as I turned to leave. 

"You're welcome!" she shouted after me. I turned to look back at her and she was already dialing another number on the phone next her. When she wasn't looking, I shot her the middle finger, which the secretary behind her caught. She gasped a little, but I figured I might as well just own it at this point. Then, I walked out and tried my best to find which locker was mine. 

Luckily, the hallways here were pretty much squares, so any intelligent person would be able to navigate through and find their assigned locker. I came upon mine, which came with it's own complimentary dent in the door and quickly opened it so I could shove my stuff into that I wasn't going to need for first period before I was late to class. 

I had just finished putting my last binder into the locker and stood up when my locker door swung closed, barely missing clipping the end of my nose. Startled, I looked to see the cause of my door being shut so abruptly. Standing behind the locker door was a blonde girl about my height, and, even though I don't advocate for slut shaming, she was dressed like a complete whore. She was really pretty though, which seemed natural, but she had this superior air about her that made you look right past her natural features. She had a fake tan, but it was well maintained enough that you could tell she came from money, because it looked really professionally done, (though one has to wonder why every girl felt the need to get fake tans when you live in Florida, but again, high school makes no damn sense). She sneered at me as I made eye contact with her, and in those few moments, I could tell I was going to hate this girl as long as I lived. 

"Wow, you should really be more careful next time," she pretentiously warned. "You almost hit yourself in the face. I didn't think being new meant you weren't going to be able to handle simple things like that." She sighed out of pretend pity. "Let me know if you need help figuring out how to work this thing next time." 

Her two friends that were standing there with her, both also dressed in as little as the main bitch was, laughed like it was the funniest thing they had heard since Saturday Night Live. I took a deep breath, and tried not to say the first thing horrible thing that came into my mind, but I failed. I will admit it, I failed miserably. 

I squared up a little and put on a fake smile. "Thank you so much," I said, feigning gratitude. "And you let me know the next time you need someone to drive you to Planned Parenthood." 

She gasped, taken aback. I leaned in for the kill. "Although, you could use birth control. You can always give me a call if you need help with how that works too." 

She pushed her hair behind her ear and straightened up. Her two friends went off to class without her because they knew the situation was just going to get tense. 

"Look here, bitch," she said, dropping the fake nice act. "I don't know who you think you are, or where they found you, but if you ever talk to me again, I will personally see to it that your life becomes a living hell." Then, she turned on her heel and marched off. 

"Well, joke's on you, my life is already a living hell without your help!" I shouted after her. 

Then, I turned around to go find my first class and walked almost right into who I later found out was the principal. Then, the bell rang and I realized that my first day was going to go off with a bang. 

"Why aren't you in class right now, young lady? Didn't you hear the bell?" 

I nodded. "Yes, I did, but this is my first day, so I don't really know where I'm going." 

He brightened up a little after that. I guess it warmed his heart knowing that I wasn't another student failing him by not being able to go to class on time, and that I was fresh meat to his institution. He lead me to my first class, which was British Literature, but fortunately spared me the first day routine of introducing me to the class. The teacher, named Mr. Reynolds who was an older gentleman who was wearing an ugly ass sweater vest, however, did make me go through the whole interview process as the new kid as if I were the new animal on exhibit in the zoo. 

****

"Wow, Pennsylvania, huh?" he asked, amazed, and I nodded in response. 

I don't know why he sounded so fascinated about this, it was just another state. It wasn't a foreign country. When he finally stopped interrogating me in front of the class, he started talking to us about our first assignment, which was The Scarlet Letter, which marked the first group groan I was ever apart of at Jefferson. 

No one liked the The Scarlet Letter. As in, I don't even think that Nathaniel Hawthorne liked The Scarlet Letter. He just got to the point where he told a bunch of people he was writing a novel, realized it was getting boring as hell, and decided it was too late to go back now. I stopped paying attention after the announcement of our first novel because I honestly didn't care about anything to do with that wretched book. I didn't really want to be here at all. My day was already starting SO well, with the secretary being a pain, and that really bitchy girl this morning, and being late to class. I was tempted to text my mom and ask her to pick me up early to get me out, but I knew her better than that. She'd just say a stereotypically supportive thing like any mother would and move on with her day. I took a deep breath and told myself that I was on my own.