LaginaWood

I'm the First Day Cliché

I glanced around the Dean's office, a little room behind the secretary's desk bedecked in purple and gold, football pictures and Asgardian memorabilia. I couldn't help but smile at the L-Wood mascot. Nothing stood out as particularly remarkable. It was everything a high school dean's office should have been. But rather than study the pictures of dozens of football teams or even read the various memos on Mr. Rolla's desk, my eyes were instead drawn to the empty corner of the room and the nearly black shadows.

Shivering, I nodded. "We always said I'd go public eventually. Why wait?"

As Mom returned my nod, Mr. Rolla shuffled back into his office. "Congrats, Cate. Looks like you'll be part of L-Woods class of 2022. Head down to the first floor and your counselor will give you your schedule, then someone from NHS will show you to your first class."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was an effort not to trip up the stairs as we marched from the first floor, up two flights to the third. I was talented like that--prone to falling up stairs. But something told me that my guide, June Farvald, wouldn't find my record clumsiness amusing.

The senior National Honors Society historian hardly seemed interested in escorting some random sophomore who'd missed orientation to her first class. Instead she seemed interested in walking in complete silence. But she was student council president as well as the NHS historian, so I decided it was best to make a good impression. Which meant a total lack of conversation, something that didn't bother me in the slightest. I had more important things to worry about than chatting with a disinterested brunette with a knock-off Katniss Everdeen braid.

"S-three-nineteen?" June asked, the first words she'd spoken since we'd left the counselor's office.

I glanced at my schedule, a hard to decipher sheet of yellow paper with a green smiley face stamp. "I think so. Yeah."

"Then here we are." She jerked her chin at an open classroom. "If you need any more help getting adjusted don't hesitate to ask someone from NHS or student council. Good luck, Caity."

"It's Cah-tee." But June was already heading down the hall before I'd uttered my habitual correction. Paying June no mind, I headed into my Sophomore Honors English class. I smiled as I inspected the classroom; Mom would have loved it. Paintings by Salvador Dali and other artists I couldn't identify decorated the walls, as well as four overflowing bookshelves, dozens of literature quotes, and a giant caricature of William Shakespeare's head above a sign that read "I don't always read Shakespeare, but when I do, I make sure to point out every penis metaphor."

English was always one of my favorite subjects, second only to history. I blamed my parents for my geekiness. What more could a girl raised by two college professors expect?

There was no sign of a teacher, and only four other students in the room. I checked my phone. 7:18. Seven minutes to the tardy bell. Apparently students didn't show up to their first class more than five minutes early. I chose a seat near the windows, plenty of natural light, few shadows, not too close to the other early-birds.

Minutes ticked by. The five minute warning bell rang out, nearly causing me to jump out of my seat. Two girls chatted quietly, obviously familiar, but the other two students were absorbed by their phones. I occupied myself by sliding my pencil along the divot at the end of my desk, organizing my books and fingering my necklace. More students trickled in, some in clusters, some alone, many comparing schedules with joy or disappointment. Even the solo students seemed to recognize almost everyone else in the room.

At one minute to the tardy bell an ABBA song blared over the intercom. Several boys rolled their eyes, but a few students bobbed their heads, mouthing the words to Mamma Mia.