*/Major chapter update 26/12/2018......yes, a change for the better, so reread if you've already read this chapter! More major changes and edits (for the better!) to come soon on other chapters!/*
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Maybe I can slip through a side door, I think to myself.
Then I'll find the office and register.
I quickly jog across the sandy ground surrounding Tybee Island Maritime Academy, the first school I've attended since 1st grade.
Already people have started arriving in the small, school parking lot. I tried to get here early enough to beat the rush, and avoid having to introduce myself, but appearantly I didn't get here early enough. Let's face it, in a school of maybe 150 kids, ranging from grades 5 to 12, it's not that hard to pick out the new kid.
Once I finally find a side door, I release a huff of air. This doesn't look like the side door that Mrs. Smith, the principal of T.I.M.A, described to my parents and I last week when we toured the place. But, without a better choice to stay under the radar, I advance in the only direction that this door leads to - down the stairs.
I timidly step down the last stair and glance around the corridor I am now in. It runs for what seems like almost the whole length of the school, which isn't that long, but definitely more extensive than I thought. I assume this is where all the teacher offices are situated, based on the many doors branching from the hallway, as well as the metal plates screwed to them which read formal names.
I battle the temptation to stay down here in the peace and quiet, where I'd not have to face a class, but also the fear of being kinda lost. Picking up my pace, even though I have no clue where I'm going, I hurry past the many doors.
Suddenly, I stop in front of one of the last cubicles. Muffled conversation escapes through the slight crack between the wood floor board and the door.
"But Ivory......I...........Why..."
"You......call me Mrs. Wy-.....I........you messing with...."
"No promi-......"
"Not if I.....-elp it..."
Strange, I ponder. Sounds like an older woman and younger girl, probably a student. The woman sounded pretty riled about something.
Figuring that it's really none of my business, what happens behind the office doors, so I begin to trudge away when the office door burst open and a brightly dressed girl emerges with a scowl on her tanned face.
"Hey! You're the new girl, aren't you?" She greets me brightly, her scowl morphing to a genuine smile.
Looking to the ground as my introverted self normaly does when talking to someone.
"Well, yeah, I...."
"Well, welcome!" the girl replies, hooking her arm around mine. "I'll show you around!"
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"So, Mrs. Secretary got you signed in all right?" Questions the girl the moment I exit the main floor secretary's office.
"Uhh, yeah...." I reply, wanting so
"So who's homeroom do I need to get you to in the next 5 minutes so we're both not late?!" Inquires, the bubbly blonde, peering over my shoulder to look at the laminated shedule in my hands.
"Uh, Mrs. I. Wynn's, I think," I answer, intensly hoping I got a good teacher for this year.
"Whoo boy," whistles the girl. "Mrs. Wynn's is one of the worst teachers in this whole town...this whole state, actually."
"Okay? Why...?"
"Well, that's just my biased opinion." She states opaquely, and with that, she drags me down the hall, to the left and into my daytime home for the next 10 months (aka., my homeroom).
Immediately after entering the classroom, I feel pairs and pairs of eyes on me. I close my eyes, wishing that if I can't see them, they somehow can't see me. Too bad it doesn't work that way.
"Hey guys!" The girl shouts to whoever's sitting behind their desk and wants to listen. "This is....wait, what is your name?" Queries the over bubbly girl, looking me over.
"I-I'm Elise...." I whisper, trying to back away from the group of students and the chatty girl who has taken a great interest in me. This is on the verge of being too much for me. Way too much.
"Mathilda, enough!" Calls a woman's voice from the depths of a closet in the corner of the room. Emerging from the small storage room, she continues rescuing me. "Leave the poor girl be!"
Stiding towards me is a tall, thin lady of no more to an 30 years of age. Her red hair is intriguingly bright against her plain, baggy white blouse and black skirt. At first glance, Mrs. Wynn apprears as a perfectly nice, noraml teacher, rather than the horror the blonde made her out to be. Although, we can both agree, I'm not well studied on my teacher types.
Mrs. Ivory Wynn, as my teacher introduces herself as, has seated me across the room from Mathilda, which I am glad for. With that, I am whisked away in my first ever formal lessons, since first grade, of literature, algebra and history.
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Day after day, week after week, I endure the tiresome hours of classes, quizzes, and trying to talk to the least amount of people as possible. Of coarse, Mathilda is included in the group classified as 'everyone' that I'm trying not to have to interact with, but it seems she has the opposite ideas. Everywhere I go, everything I do, everytime I think I'm finally alone, Mathilda pops up. It's like there's an unwanted magnet between the two of us, pulling us together against my will.
Lets just say she worked really hard on my intorverted shell, these past weeks, trying to crack it.
And she broke through.
I'm finding myself enjoying her company, even though that company tends to be loud, bright and sometimes slightly embarrassing at times.
The library nook is our personal lunch spot, away from all the bustle, where we meet at midday together. Sometimes we, or at least mostly Mathilda, tell jokes, roleplay a fantasy novel together, or we just simply eat in silence.
Through T.I.M.A, it's unintentionally become known that wherever one of us is, usually you'll be able to find the other not too far away.
Whether I like it or not, Mathilda has become my first official friend, besides the cat I had when I was seven. I would even go as far as saying that maybe I wished a tiny bit that our desks were closer together.
Little did I know how this friend would end up being the reason for a, quite literal, 'magical' change in me, as well as herself.
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*/Fewwww.... *Wipes sweat off forhead*
How was it? Better than the first draft, I'm betting you!
It's kinda uneventful right now but I promise it will get more exciting.
I hope to keep updating constantly, so stay tuned!
By the way, this is a TOTAL rewrite of the chapter, so reread, please!
Your comments and suggestions are very welcome, please share your thoughts!
Have a blessed day! */
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Amador | Is It Truth Or Fantasy? |
Fantasy**(2nd Place in The Chillin' Awards General Fiction Category)** Hero's don't have to come in shining armour. They don't have to come with gleaming swords, or muscular sidekicks. They also don't have to be fearless and brave, although it helps to be...
