Page 2 of Infinity Chronicles 1
“Wish I didn't needto do everyone's job!” she complains, then adds, “I'll be needing that folder back. Your locker assignment and schedule are yours to keep.”
When I leave the office, I notice there's a stillness in the halls as I journey up to the second floor. Most of the classroom doors are open, with tall gray trash bins left empty adjacent to the entrances. My locker is tucked away at the end of hallway, right next to a rear stairwell. Intrigued by the possibilities of where they lead, I open my locker quickly just to make sure the combination works then close it back up, keeping my backpack with me.
When I reach the bottom of the back stairway, it spills to the lower level and an exit. This will definitely be a quicker route, which I file away for later.
As I make my way to my homeroom, the halls slowly start to fill.I manage to successfully filter through groups of kids with no one pointing out that a new student has joined their ranks. Cautiously, I linger on the fringes until I feel an acceptable amount of time has passed so I won't be the first or last student to enter the room.
I place the half sheet of paper with empty columns on my teacher’s desk for his initials. I've been to several schools where they require new students to return similar forms after the first day of school, whether they think the kids will skip or are too inept to find their classes, I don't know, but it's a silly practice.
The older man behind the desk looks at me before scribbling his initials in the appropriate column.
“Alphabetic assigned seating Miss Fallen, but with late enrollment I'm afraid I'll have to stick you in the back.” From the corner of my eye I notice his eyes narrow on me, wondering and assessing if I'll cause trouble back there.
I give a nod and walk over to the last row of five and sit in the desk farthest from the front. A few students peer at me as I pass, but my hair is still secured limply over my shoulders, the loose hold of a rubber band offering some anonymity from the curious stares of my classmates.
Thankfully the homeroom teacher doesn't acknowledge me again throughout the short period. I know at some point today at least one teacher will address me and my newness, thinking they're somehow being helpful instead recognizing it for the embarrassment it actually is.I'm grateful to Mr. Wilber for not doing that.
As the day slides by I get a few looks and hear a some whispers, but not much more than I'm normally used to from always being the new kid.
I was a little surprised when Mom told me where we'd be moving this time.She usually picks a place that just borders on being a big city; a town barely large enough so our existence won't be noticed. But the town of Canton is more than just shy of being a big city, hell they don't even have a Walmart.
Initially it concerned me that I'd stand out more in the smaller school. But I needn't have worried, because my hard-earned invisibility works better than I'd expected.
Lunch always sucks for the first few days, the days before I've sussed out the best places to eat my bagged PB&J in peace while I read whatever book has my attention for the day.Today is no different.
They split lunch into two groups: A and B. I got the former, so as my fourth hour lets out I meander out slowly, taking my time collecting my pencils and newly assigned book from my desk.After clearing the door, I head to the most obvious choice for all the book nerds worldwide: the library.
Unfortunately,there's a signed posted which reads ‘closed for lunch periods,’ so I turn on my heel and head back the way I came. Maybe I can just go to my locker and camp out on the floor. An idea strikes as I make my way up the corridor.The lunchroom needs to be avoided at all costs, so I need to think of a new place to eat lunch.I pass a few classes still in session, but mostly my walk is uninterrupted. When I look past the bank of lockers that hold mine, I see the empty stairwell. A small smile lifts my lips when I peer down to the landing that separates the two flights of stairs. If I sit on one of the first few steps, I'll easily be able to noticeanyone coming from the hall or the stairs below.
With my back to the wall I munch slowly on my sandwich while it's still half in the sandwich bag, and flip through my book to find whatever scrap of paper I've tucked into the pages to mark my spot.
Luckily I was able to finish my lunch with no interruptions, and I'm just gathering my things when I hear voices coming from below. I start working faster to tuck my stuff away when a soft voice reaches my ears. I can't make outwhat she says, but it’s quickly followed by a deep chuckle.
Great, I've wandered into someone's make out spot. Before I can cram my brown sack into my book bag,heavy steps land on the stairs.
I barely manage to sling my bag over my shoulder when a dark head appears on the landing and I drop my eyes to the steps below me. I'm already facing down, and I think passing him would be easier than rushing back up to my locker at this point, so I wedge myself as near to the right wall as possible and begin to descend the stairs.
As he looks up, I recognize the moment he notices me. His steps falter, if only briefly, before resuming his unhurried pace. When we pass, his head turns and follows me. I never look up, pretending not to notice him.His musky cologne lingers in the passageway as I round the landing.
Standing at the base of the stairs is a blonde girl peering up at me. My eyes dart to the ground quickly and she takes a breath like she might speak to me when my foot hits the last step, but I keep walking. As I turn down the next hallway, I catch a glimpse of her still watching me before I move out of sight, her eyes narrowed in speculation.
Everything is fine until fifth hour, which is when it happens. I've settled into a peaceful acceptance that I might just make it through the day without any teachers prompting me to spill why or how Iended up in their school. But then it does.
Mrs. Yarro, a youngish teacher with an easy smile, moves to the front of her desk and leans her rump against it, crossing her ankles. “So, guys, I'm sure you've noticed we have a new classmate today. I hope all of you are making her feel welcome.”
At her announcement a few heads swivel around the room. Looking for the new student that I'm sure most of them had no clue was among them.
I'm tempted to ignore her, but I know that doesn't work because I've tried it before. So, I gazeat the front of the room without making eye contact with anyone and lift my hand in a small wave.
“Laura, tell us where are you from?” Mrs. Yarro prods.
At this point I don't even remember, so I tell her the last place we moved from. “Michigan,” I respond loud enough so I won't need to repeat myself. Mrs. Yarro nods her head encouragingly, wanting me to add more. When I don't, she folds her hands together and looks around the room.
Taking mercy on me after one last look in my direction she says, “All right then Laura, we're happy to have you. Jimmy can you tell me where we left off on Friday?”
“Um, uh,” the guy in front of me stutters as he turns back around to his own desk and fumbles with a textbook.
With a heavy sigh Mrs. Yarro answers her own question, “Chapter twenty-four people! Remember we're having a test Thursday. I'll expect everyone to be prepared.”
