Chapter II

“ELIZABETH!  LIZZZZZIIIIEEEEEEEE!  LIZZIE LIZZIE LIZZIE!  WAKE UP!  TIME TO GET READY!  I MADE EGGS AND BAKEY!”

When she wakes me up, it is so annoying.  However, I get up, as much I dread the day ahead.  I find an outfit to wear to school today:  black v-neck shirt, white skinny jeans, and black converse.  I go into the bathroom and straighten my hair and do my makeup.  It takes about thirty minutes in total and now the time is 7:30.  One thing I like about this town:  school starts at 8, not 7.

I go downstairs and grab a plate, then put some toast in the toaster as I grab my binder and backpack from my study.  I basically use my backpack as my purse, and today it’s the only true color I have on me.  When I come downstairs the toaster pops and I grab a plate and set the eggs, bacon, and toast on it, and form a sandwich.  I eat it in a short time, then I go upstairs and brush my teeth, then leave.

I have my own car, which is a two door black convertible.  It’s small, but convenient and I’m thankful.  Mom and I passed the school on the way to our house yesterday, so I think I can remember where to go. 

When I arrive at the school, I park in a spot way in the back of the lot.  I don’t know if this school has reserved parking and I would hate to take someone’s spot.  It’s a really small school, so there isn’t much parking.  But a smaller high school means a smaller amount of people to make fun of me. I remember at my old school, my friends and I openly made fun of all the new kids and nerds (which I regret doing), but now I’m the new kid, so it’s my turn to be made fun of. 

This peppy girl approaches me and says, “You’re the new kid around here aren’t you? I’m Haley. And this is my boyfriend, Brian. And these are my 2 best friends, Samantha and Jamie. They’re twins.”  Wow, the people here are very open.

“We can talk for ourselves you know,” Samantha and Jamie say in unison.  It’s actually a little creepy.

“Uh, yeah.  My name is Elizabeth Ashmore.  Where is the principal’s office?  I need to see him so I can get my schedule,” I say.

“We will tell you if you promise to be our friends,” says Haley. I guess she is the leader of their little clique.  And at least I’m not being made fun of.

“Sure. Why not? I just don’t need to be late for class.” I lie. I actually never cared and still don’t care if I’m late for class.  At least people here actually want to be my friend, though.

“Go down the hall and to the right, then go out the double doors, across the breezeway and turn into the main building, then look left and you will see it.” Haley says.

“Uh, thanks,” I say.                       

“Don’t mention it,” Haley says.  But I’m pretty sure she wants me to mention it.  

I make it to the main office and see a schedule on the front desk. The lady sitting there points to it, ordering me to take it, so I do. It says:

            1^st period:  Senior English (Honors) ;  8:00 -  9:00

                        Mrs. Smithson – Room 152

            2^nd period:  Study Hall ; 9:05 – 9:55

                        Mrs. Laughless – Room 114

            3^rd period:  Modern History ; 10:00 – 10:50

                        Coach Ringo – Room 124

            4^th period:  Art ; 10:55 – 12:00 (includes lunch period at 11:20)

                        Mrs. Strima – Room 190

            5^th period:  Trigonometry ; 12:05 – 12:55

                        Coach Moore – Room 185

            6^th period:  Economics ; 1:00 – 2:00

                        Coach Kirky – Room 170

            7^th period:  Chemistry ; 2:05 – 3:00

                        Mr. Grissom – Room 172

I guess it’s an okay schedule.  I check the time and it’s 7:57, and I’m next to room 100.  I get a little nervous that I’ll be late, even though I shouldn’t care.  Maybe it’s because people are staring at me.

But I find my room at exactly 8:01, and walk in.

 “Why are you late?” Mrs. Smithson—an old plump woman with bright purple eyeshadow, magenta lips, and an all-magenta outfit—asks in a mean tone.  All I can think is, I’m only a minute late!

However, I only say, “I’m new.”

“And?” she asks.  Are you serious?  I’M NEW.

“I didn’t know where to go…” I say instead.

“You should’ve come earlier then.  My class isn’t a joke and will not be treated as such.  Take a seat behind Jamie.  You should know her from the welcoming committee, which you had so much time to talk to instead of coming to my class,” she rants.  I go and take my seat behind Jamie.

 “Alright class. Your lesson is on the board. Write it down in your notebooks. Jamie, please give Elizabeth the lessons that will cover the test.” Mrs. Smithson says. Jamie nods, and I start writing.

“Hi,” says a boy sitting next to me.

“Hey,” I whisper. He is very pale guy with a black Mohawk, and the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. His teeth must have been professionally whitened, and he wears a white v-neck, black jeans, and black converse (kind of like my outfit, except opposite colors).  He’s gorgeous.

“You moved into that 2 story house with the big oak tree in the front yard,” he says, slyly.  Now I’m a little creeped out.

“Uh, yeah. How do you know that?” I ask, shyly.

He ignores me, but then says, “I’ll be there tonight.  I need to pick up a few things.”  Then he turns around and starts writing. I don’t know what his problem is, but I’m going to find out.

All I want to know is who he is. That’s all I care about right now.