I have been enjoying my time living in Daphne so far. The city has many beautiful parks, and I have never seen so many fresh flowers in my life. The people here are extremely friendly and welcoming. Our fridge is now filled with pies brought to us by almost everyone in the neighborhood.
I found it strange at first, but the pies tasted terrific, and I have been surviving on a pies-only diet for the last few days. However, my days of bliss and binge-watching Dean's face in Supernatural were about to end. Today was Monday, and I had to go to school. They had already completed three weeks of school here, but I was used to joining schools late in the academic year, so this was nothing.
I checked myself in the mirror to make sure I looked presentable. I was wearing ripped jeans, a T-shirt, and red Nike Dunk Lows. I tried to keep my outfit simple since I didn't know anyone here and didn't want to attract any unwanted attention.
I walked down the stairs; the house was empty. My mom was starting her work today and had to go to the Daphne location to check-in. I quickly grabbed a bottle of water and my keys and left the house. As soon as I stepped outside, I could smell the fresh flowers; some neighbors were gardening. Although it was early, the sun was already scorching.
I was about to open my car door when I heard my neighbor's front door open. It was the neighbor with the pink house, and the boy I had seen from the window walked out. He was wearing a black hoodie and blue jeans and had a backpack hanging low on his back. I couldn't see his face because his hoodie covered it. I watched him as he walked down the street.
I got into my car to go to school, hoping not to be too late. Since the school was nearby, it only took me about five minutes to get there. I followed the signage and made my way to the front office. The secretary greeted me with a smile. She appeared to be an older woman in her fifties. "Hello, I'm Bianca. I'm a new student, and I'm here to pick up my schedule," I informed her. She smiled back and entered my name into the computer.
"Oh, it's you," she said brightly. "The principal wanted to see you." That was odd. The secretaries usually just print me a copy of my schedule and leave me alone. I always try my best to avoid seeing the principal. "Nothing to worry about, dear," she passed her hands in the air in a quick motion. She motioned for me to follow her. We walked down a corridor until we arrived at a big lobby.
She knocked on Dr. H. Thompson's office door, which I assumed was the principal. A gruff voice called for her to enter. "This is Bianca," she said before leaving.
"Please have a seat, Ms. Jackson," he said, pointing to the chair across from him. I obliged and took a seat. He was an older white man who put his hands together, appearing to be in deep thought. He passed his hands through his mostly grey hair and introduced himself, "I'm Dr. Thompson," he said, extending his hand for a handshake. I shook his hand, and he gave me a firm grip. He then proceeded to take out some files and read through them. "I'm impressed," he said after going through the files.
"Of what?" I asked him, feeling clueless.
"I have reviewed your academic portfolio, and I must say that it is extremely impressive. Frequently changing schools can lead to a lack of academic stability, but you have still managed to excel in your advanced placement courses and maintain straight A's. However, I noticed that you have not yet applied to any colleges."
I frowned. He was talking about college, a subject I always tried to avoid. I hated discussing the future, and maybe I didn't want to attend college. I didn't want to think about it. "You need to apply; the earlier, the better, especially with your record," he finished.
"My record?" I questioned.
"Yes, you've been suspended multiple times, expelled twice, and you constantly get into fights," he repeated.
I may not have had the best record, but my grades were good. "We do not condone such behavior here at Southeast High. I hope you will make an effort to change, and please apply to at least one college by the end of the semester," the principal said sternly. I nodded in agreement to show that I understood.
I've never had a principal speak to me like that before. But this was my senior year, and it was time to start thinking about my future, whether I liked it or not. The principal handed me a piece of paper with my schedule on it. As I looked through it, I realized the courses were the same as those I had taken at my old school: AP Calculus, AP Government, Physics Honors, and so on. Unfortunately, I had AP Calculus in the morning. Who on earth has math class that early?
I was looking at the list of locations, but the building names and room numbers were confusing. The principal noticed my confusion and kindly offered to call someone to guide me to my class. He promptly dialed a number on his desk phone and requested assistance. After a brief conversation, he hung up and reassured me that someone would arrive shortly to take me to my first class.
We were both waiting silently for the escort to arrive. After a few minutes, a young girl walked in with a smile. Her dark hair flowed down her back, and she had green eyes. "Hi, I'm Allison Thompson," she said as she extended her hand to shake mine. I got up from my seat and shook her hand. "I'll walk you to class," she offered. I wondered if she was related to the principal, but I didn't ask as Thompson was a common last name. "So, where are you from?" she asked as we walked down the empty hallway.
"Everywhere," I answered her. She nodded awkwardly and led me through a series of turns until we reached a hallway with math equations and symbols plastered on the walls. It appeared to be the location of all the math classes. She stopped in front of a classroom, and I checked my paper to confirm I had arrived at Ms. Brun's class. "Thank you," I said as I entered the classroom, causing everyone to turn their attention towards me.
I smiled awkwardly, looking around and greeting the teacher, "Hi, I'm Bianca. I'm sorry I'm late." It was a medium-sized class with maybe 10-15 students. This school seemed to have stricter rules and was much cleaner than my last school in Vegas.
"It's fine," she replied. She appeared to be middle-aged with blonde hair cut in a bob that suited her face perfectly. She adjusted her glasses and asked, "Since you're already standing up, why don't you tell us about yourself?" I've been through this many times before, so I know the drill.
I greeted the class and said, "Hello. My name is Bianca, and I'm a senior."
"Any hobbies?" The teacher asked. "Are you thinking about joining any clubs at our school?"
"I have a few hobbies that I enjoy. I love binge-watching shows about supernatural things and boys that do not exist in real life," I paused, and most girls nodded in agreement. "I also like soccer," I said, "I might join the team this year, but I'm not sure yet," I added, shrugging my shoulders.
"What college or university are you considering enrolling in next year, and what major are you planning to pursue?" she asked. I stared at her, wondering if these were the usual questions they asked their students. I didn't know how to answer her question.
"I honestly have no idea," I replied. "I'm quite sure none of us do. By the time we're in our late twenties, we usually start thinking about changing our careers anyway," I explained, adding a few facts to support my statement. It's a well-known fact that people typically change jobs every five years or so and often change careers before turning thirty. This trend is widespread among middle-aged men. So, I hated the fact that everyone was pressuring me to pick a school and a major.
"Okay," she said awkwardly, "wait, where are you from?" She asked.
"I move a lot because of my mom's job, so I guess you could say I'm from everywhere," I explained. Everyone seemed puzzled at my answer, with a few sad faces.
"I'm so sorry; it must be hard having to move so much," she said. I never understood why everyone apologized to me when I explained my experience. I enjoyed moving every year. I didn't like staying in one place for too long; I loved change.
"Oh, it's fine," I assured her. "I think I've lived in fifteen places and been to many states and countries! I've gotten to see so much."
"Impressive, a girl who travels," she smiled and gestured for me to sit. I looked around and noticed that there were only two seats available. Everyone else was sitting in pairs. One of the seats was in the back near a boy who was now signaling me to sit next to him. "I like you already, Bianca," Ms. Brun said warmly.
"You never said that to me," said the boy, who motioned for me to sit beside him.
"Maybe because I don't," she snapped. I also liked her. I love teachers who can make remarks about their students. "Bianca, this is Justin; you'll be hearing a lot from him, so you might as well know his name," she rolled her eyes. The other seat was in front of the classroom, next to the boy who lives across from me in the pink house. With his hoodie on, I couldn't see his face as he looked down. However, I recognized him by his outfit earlier when he left his house this morning.
I wondered what his deal was. His mother seemed nice, but he certainly wasn't. Should I sit beside Justin, the boy who talks a lot, or beside this unknown person who wears a hoodie and looks like a serial killer? I sighed and decided to take a seat next to the unknown person. Everyone was looking at me, their eyes asking if I was serious. A few of them started whispering, but I didn't mind.
I sat, "take out your textbooks from under the desk," Ms. Brun said, getting up. As the students took out their books, Ms. Brun started pacing the room. I took mine out, too. I reached out my hand in a friendly gesture towards my new seat partner. "Hi," I said, hoping to introduce myself. He finally looked up at me, and his beautiful green eyes struck me. He wore glasses that seemed to hide the beauty of his eyes. "I'm Bianca," I continued. "I think we might be neighbors." However, I pulled back my hand when he didn't shake it.
"Whatever," he said before turning his face away.