Chapter 3: Out Of The Frying Pan, Into The Fire
BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ
Groaning, I slammed my alarm clock off in irritation. It's buzzing sound was the last thing I wanted to hear first thing in the morning.
Gently opening my eyes, I slowly rolled over to the side of my bed and had to blink several times after catching sight of my gigantic calendar and the dark red circle on a certain date on it.
"Shit," I swore as soon as I realized what day it was. It was my first day of school.
As soon as the adrenaline rush kicked in, I made a dash to the bathroom in a record that would make Usain Bolt cry.
There was definitely nothing worse than being late on your first day of school.
Cross High School wasn't very hard to find considering its near distance to my house plus the very huge and prominent sign that comes along with it.
After entering the gates of the school, I maneuvered my car to the parking lot and thankfully spotted a free space near the main building entrance.
I parked my car-- well, technically Mom's, but whatever -- and immediately noticed the array of beautiful wheels lined next to mine. Who knew there were many rich kids in this small town? Sweet.
Grabbing my bag from the passenger seat, I got out of the car and instantly set off for the main building. I was supposed to be heading to the principal's office to get my class schedule so I quickened my steps to get there straightaway.
Curious eyes were on me as I made my way through the crowded hallways. As if on cue, my heart raced in agitation; my nerves pumped up.
Ignoring their ogling, I walked two times faster and finally found the principal's office after a few quick turns. I took a deep breath before twisting the door knob open. Inside was a middle aged woman, probably the secretary, who immediately directed me towards another room. Following the same routine, I opened the door and greeted a semi-old bald man with a funny mustache who apparently was the school principal.
"Good morning, Mr., err Harrison," I said, silently high-fiving my self for my natural aptitude of spotting things quickly -- thankfully, I was able catch sight of his name on his tiny name plate before he could even notice.
I seriously didn't want to create an unsatisfactory impression with my principal on our first meeting for merely not knowing his name. That would be a cryin' shame.
"Good morning Ms. Davidson," he answered politely. I wasn't even a tad bit surprised that he knew my name already. My guess: I'm the only (and probably the first in years) new student who moved here.
Mr. Harrison pulled open his drawer and took out a piece of paper and handed it to me. "That would be your class schedule," he spoke, smiling at me. "Your first class would be English Literature with Mr. Adams.Room 11- that would be the first room to the left."
I took in all these and said, "Thank you Mr. Harrison."
"If you have any questions or problems, don't hesitate to ask me or any of the school staff," he added; sincerity evident in his tone. "Again, welcome to Cross High! Enjoy your first day!"
With that, I thanked him again and turned to leave his office. I scanned through my class schedule once more before stuffing it inside my back pocket. Remembering the instructions Mr. Harrison gave me, I turned to the left and stopped in front of Room 11.