By Lanette

Ah, the first day of school. This day of new beginnings is always a hectic event as far as Pacman County is concerned. As early as 5:00 in the morning, marathon lunch-making, screaming across the house, fights for bathroom dominance, screaming across the house, speed dressing, and, of course, screaming across the house occurs in every household across the county. But this hassled morning to an even more hassled day will not ever deter the resilient mothers of Pacman County from shoving (or bodily throwing) their children out the door.

This particular first day of school was graced with a morning devoid of sunshine, crisp breezes, or any characteristic of a beautiful autumn morn. In fact, this particular September morning was downright hideous. Wind howled like a hundred tortured souls, and the raindrops were as merciless as bullets. Children tried fruitlessly to shield themselves from the ruthless downpour. Mothers, from the safety of their houses, watched worriedly as their poor kids fought their way to school. Teachers took one glance at the horrifying weather outside and thought about taking the entire year off. Every spirit, mother or child, student or teacher, was dampened and dismayed. Well, almost every spirit. Kori Killigan seemed to defy gravity as she skipped her way to K. T. Mitchell Elementary School in her rainbow slicker in the midst of the rain and wind. Kori wasn’t the least bit apprehensive about her first day of kindergarten. After all, if you had read every book in the public library over the summer, would you be worried?

As soon as spotted her elementary school, Kori whooped for joy. Soaking wet, she ran to the door, threw it open, and screamed at the top of her five-year-old lungs, “GOOD MORNING!” which caused a few window to shatter, more than a few ears to bleed, and several elderly faculty members to pass out. Satisfied with her entrance, Kori glanced at the digital clock mounted on the wall and gasped. “Oh no, I’m late!” she squealed in horror, and ran down the first hallway, scanning the doors for room 3-A.

Melanie Johnson, the teacher of room 3-A, was the average kindergarten teacher. Overworked, underpaid, and stressed to the point of a mental breakdown, but she kept going by the will of God, coffee, and cosmetic surgery. Hey, she mustn’t scare the children, you know! And since it was the first day of school, she had taken extra cautions a week beforehand, nearly draining Starbucks and making a plastic surgeon very happy. As a result, her face was frozen in a huge, cheesy smile and she could barely talk.
She had just started to invite kids into the classroom and sort out the ones that were confused, when an earsplitting, sonic shriek that sounded vaguely like “good morning” nearly jarred the Botox out of Ms. Johnson’s face. Soon after she collected herself and comforted the frightened children, a little girl in a rainbow-colored slicker at the door introduced herself as Kori Killigan, smiling psychotically and dripping water all over the floor. The polite introduction was soon followed by a blinding flash of lightning and a rib-quaking crack of thunder. ‘This can’t be good’ thought Ms. Johnson as she escorted Kori and the other students into the classroom.