“Megan! Have you seen my calculator?” My eleven-year-old sister poked her black-haired head through the door to my room.

“I think Caddie had it, why don’t you ask her?”

“What would a third grader need with a calculator?!”

“I don’t have it!” yelled Caddie from her room down the hall.

I sighed. “Alright, never mind…” I turned back to my black backpack. “Let’s see…” I murmured, “Science text, English text, Latin book, Math book, ah, there’s my calculator!” Rummaging through various pockets, I pulled out my scientific calculator that was definitely a little worse-for-wear. Roughly tossing it back into my backpack, I continued down my checklist. “Protractor, pens and pencils, three notebooks, and my copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.” Hopefully the library would have a decent stock, maybe even an unabridged copy of my all-time favorite book.

I slung my backpack over my shoulder, glad that Dad and I had taken all of my stuff to the school the previous night, and glanced into the mirror one last time. My straight black hair was tied into a braid that hung down my back, and lightly done silver eye shadow accented my own dark blue eyes. Since it was Monday, I was wearing the “casual” uniform of the small private boarding school that I had enrolled in, a white polo and simple black skirt. Boys at Vale Academy would be forced to wear khaki pants and a red shirt, red, white, and black being the school colors. The school symbol, a stylized “VA”, was emblazoned over the left breast pocket of both, as well as the white oxford shirt that we were to wear on Fridays with a pair of black dress slacks. Slipping my black school shoes on, I decided that I was thankful that we were at least allowed to wear jewelry and have our hair whichever way we wanted. Automatically, I touched the red pendant that hung around my neck before slipping it under my shirt. It was large, and would attract unwanted attention.

With one last look around my newly-emptied room, I went down the stairs to the kitchen. “There you are, Amy,” Dad said, standing up from the dining room table. “I was just about to get you. Vale starts at 8:00 you know.” I just nodded, a lump in my throat. “Come on, then,” he finished, picking up his coffee and walking out the door. Halfway there, he started humming. That was the thing about my Dad, he always had music of some sort playing, either in his head, or in the car. I followed him out the door to the battered old gold van, fondly nicknamed (at least by Caddie and Megan) “Honey”. I walked around to the other side and got into the front seat.

“Ready for your first day?” My dad asked, starting up the car.

I shrugged. “I suppose…”

“Nervous?” was his new “parental question”. I shrugged again. “Just have fun with it. You’ll be fine.” At least he didn’t tell me, “You’ll make loads of new friends!”

“I’ll try,” I semi-promised, then escaped from the conversation by pulling my iPod out of my backpack. School rules would forbid its use during school hours, along with cell phones, video games, personal computers, and other electronics, but it was a long ride from my house to Vale. I had plenty of time.

After an hour and a half of me drowning out “The Grateful Dead” with “Linkin Park”, we at last drove up the turn around to the school. There was a fairly nice landscaped area around the school building itself, which was four stories high and made of red brick. There were eight single story buildings behind the school itself, built to house the students. The school was built up on a flight of steps that several people were going up already. I climbed out of the car, my dad following. I hugged him, not wanting to let go. This would be my first time at a boarding school, and I wasn’t just nervous, I was downright scared. Eventually, I had to let go, and trotted up the steps to the front doors of the school, waving “Bye!” to my dad over my shoulder. Taking a deep breath, I slipped between the doors and into the crowd of seniors.

As a freshman, I would be on the top floor of the building. The seniors were on the bottom, with juniors and then sophomores above them. I wove through the crowd of taller teenagers and found the stairwell.

The noise of the first floor faded behind me, as did the junior noise and the sophomore noise as I climbed my way up the steps to the freshman floor. Again I gulped as I opened the door, sliding in without drawing too much attention. I made my way to and from my locker with no incident, but in a room with one opening it is virtually impossible not to make an entrance. Silently, I made my way to an empty desk and pulled out The Count.

I was abruptly yanked out of the Parisian catacombs when a voice from above said, “Hey, new girl!” I looked up from my book. “Whatcha reading?” The boy had blonde hair and green eyes that sparkled with mischief, and was leaning one elbow on my desk.

“The Count of Monte Cristo,” I replied, wondering that he had been open enough to just call me “new girl”.

“Really? That’s one of my favorite books.”

“Wow,” I said, surprised. I wasn’t expecting that…

“Yeah, when Monte Cristo reaches a million… so moving.” He burst out laughing, glancing over his shoulder. I looked past the blonde boy and realized that we had attracted a crowd, consisting mainly of boys… and all of them were laughing.

I blushed. “T-That’s not what happens.”

He smirked, and was about to say something else when the door opened for a second time, and the teacher came in. According to my schedule, this was Mr. Wolfe, my homeroom teacher.

“Alright, class, settle down. Now, I know all of you know each other, but I don’t know any of you. This is your first time in high school, and I need to learn all of your names. So, first I’m going to call roll…” He rambled on while he shuffled through his desk for the sheet of paper. “Ah, there it is. Alright, Shelby Adams?” A girl with brown hair and blue eyes raised her hand nonchalantly, waving it once, before going back to imagined guitar fingerings.

“Robert Coyne?” An African American boy sitting next to Shelby waved a pair of pencils, then resumed tapping them in a rhythm against the desk.

“May Cullen?” A brunette that was whispering with two other girls quickly left off giggling and sat primly in her desk, raising her hand.

“Jessica Dale?”

“Here,” a blonde said, snapping shut a compact.

“Terrence Fletcher?”

“Terry,” the brunette snapped, then turned back to something under the desk. Leaning back a little, I could see that it was a Game Boy with the sound turned down. I guessed that he had just died.

“Abigail Fillmore?”

“I go by Abby,” a girl with glasses said, before turning back to her backpack to continue rummaging through it. As I watched, she pulled out the Physical Science text book and started paging through it.

“Taylor Jameson?”

The girl called on nervously snapped shut a notebook that she had been writing in. “Here!

“David Johnson?” A muscular kid brought his head up off of his desk and blinked lazily at the teacher. “Okay, you’re here… Adam Moon?”

Another bespectacled teen, though this time a boy, jumped and set his manga book down. I mentally groaned. A manga geek… this might be a problem.

“Michael Regen?”

“Here, just let me…” A blonde boy muttered distractedly, bent over a sketchbook.

“Alexandra Page?”

“Ali!” Someone said behind me. I turned around, and the dark-brown haired girl grinned at me. “Hi,” she mouthed, waving once. I gave a small wave back before turning back around.

“April Rise?” One of the girls who had been giggling with May giggled again, answering with a high-pitched, “Here!”

There was a pause. “Er…” he said. “I’m not sure how to pronounce this one, so please give me some lee way here… Aimi Shiraishi?” He pronounced it “Amy Shehrasheh.”

I blushed, and raised my hand. “It’s just Amy, A-M-Y” I said quietly.

“How do you pronounce your last name, though?”

“It’s pronounced I-me She-ri-she.”

“Thank you…” he said, writing down the pronunciation in the margin of the role. “Amy, then, that’s easier for my tongue.” He gave me a small smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back. Glancing over my shoulder at Adam, though, I could see that his jaw had about dropped open in what looked like delight. I just knew that I would be stopped after class…

“John Summer?”

A boy that was examining his nails looked up at the teacher. “Here, sir.”

“Alice Thompson?”

The other girl that had been giggling at the beginning of class glanced scathingly at me, before saying, “Present.”

“Ryan Wilson?”

The boy to my left, the boy who had bothered me before the teacher came in left off laughing to the boy on his left, and looked up at the teacher. “Here, teach.”

The man ignored his new nickname. “Benjamin Wilkes?”

“I’m Ben,” the last boy on Ryan’s left said, still trying not to laugh.

“Alright, everyone, I’m Mr. Wolfe, and homeroom time is actually almost over, but I’m going to use these last few minutes to explain what we’ll do here every day. This is the time when the principal, Mr. White, will give any announcements for the day, and also the time of day that I’ll take roll. I’ll need you to raise your hand, wave, say ‘here’, or whatever the first few days, because I’m not that good at matching faces to names immediately. After that, you guys can just talk or whatever until the announcements are… well, announced. After that, you’ll go to your first class, and follow your schedules from there. Everyone understand?” I nodded, along with everyone else. “Alright, then. Go ahead!”

There was a moment of silence, and then everyone started talking all at once. I picked up my book again, and tried to continue along with Albert on his way out of the catacombs. Before I reached the light at the end, I was again yanked back into the real world by one simple statement that I knew would only come from one person. A very excited person.

“You’re Japanese?”

I nervously glanced up. “Half, actually.”

Adam practically glowed with delight. “Do you speak any Japanese? Will you teach me? Do you like manga? What’re your favorites?”

I opened my mouth and he immediately fell silent. I blinked. “No, I don’t, so I’m sorry, but I can’t. I don’t like manga, though I know what it is, and I don’t have any favorites.” I sighed, and picked up my book again, about to try and find my place.

His next question blew me away.

“Will you go out with me?”

“What?” I thought for sure I must have misheard him.

Ryan started laughing. “Yeah, do it, after all, geeks should stick with geeks, right?”

I kept my focus on Adam. “Er… Well…” I sighed. “I’m sorry, but I don’t really want a boyfriend... or a date. I’m sorry,” I repeated as he looked down.

This was my major problem. I didn’t like to offend anyone, so when I had to say ‘no’, I usually tried to say it in as a nice a way as I possibly could. Still, whenever that happened, I ended up feeling guilty, especially when I ended up hurting someone. Needless to say, I was constantly apologizing to people who weren’t offended, because I was paranoid that I had offended them. “I’m sorry” seemed to be my catchphrase…

He looked up again with a smile. “Oh, you will eventually. I’ll talk to you later.”

With that, he went back to his desk and picked up his copy of XXXHOLiC. I sighed. This one would be stubborn…

Ryan leaned over onto my desk. “So, do you not want a date with anybody, or just him?”

I blinked at him. Tell me he wasn’t…

I glanced at Mr. Wolfe hopefully. He was working a crossword puzzle, apparently completely absorbed in “two down” from what he was muttering. The smile on his face made me wonder, though.

Ryan was leaning closer to my face, close enough to make me lean back in my chair. Next thing I knew, I was on the floor. Ryan smirked as I stood and sat in my chair again. “See, Ben?” he said over his shoulder. “I can bring any woman to their knees.”

“Yeah,” said the girl behind me, Ali. “If you consider ‘on their knees’ vomiting from disgust.”

I turned around, surprised that she would stick up for me. She grinned hugely at me. “The boys here suck, but most of us are pretty nice. Amy, right? You said you prefer that…” she looked at me curiously.

“Yeah,” I said, putting some hair that had escaped from the braid back behind my ear. “And you like Ali?”

She nodded, grinning. “What class do you have next?”

“Latin.”

“One?” her ears perked up.

“Yeah…”

“Great, me too. Here, can I see your schedule?”

“Sure.” I pulled out one of my notebooks and handed her my schedule. She, meanwhile, had pulled a crumpled up piece of paper out of her pocket. She laid them side by side, and ran a finger across, first from hers, then to mine. “Looks like we’ve got Physical Science together. Wow, Algebra II? We don’t take that until next year. Band, hm? Too bad, I’m in chorus, but it’s at the same time. We’ve got study hall, and lunch together. English, too. So, we’ve got four classes, plus lunch together. Great!”

Before she could pass back my schedule, Ryan intervened, having pulled his from somewhere as well. “I’ve got you in science, band, and lunch, but that’s it… too bad. We would have had fun together.” He also grinned at me, in a way I didn’t really like.

“Er…”

Ali whacked him. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Ryan. You’ve embarrassed her.”

Ryan unsuccessfully tried to dodge. “Hey, careful there!”

“Or what, I’ll mess up your hair? You sound almost as gay as John,” Ali told him, rolling her eyes towards the brunette who was still examining his nails.

“I take offense to that!”

“As do I,” John said, looking up and over at my desk. He flashed me a grin. “Who would want to be associated with him? Though…” he mused, eyeing him up and down, “He is kinda cute…”

I laughed lightly, stopping when Ryan glared at me again. He huffed, and turned back to talking with Ben. I blushed when I realized that Ali was studying me. “W-what?”

“You have a nice laugh. You should use it more often,” she said, completely throwing me off guard. Before I could say anything else, the bell rang. She stood, gathering her backpack and jacket. I blushed, wondering if she was allowed to wear her skirts that short. She looked at me. “What are you waiting for? We’ve got Latin.” I was still staring up at her. She sighed. “Come on!” Grabbing my arm, she headed for the door. I barely managed to snag my backpack on my way out.

She led me off down the hallway, me struggling to keep up and not lose sight of her as she wove her way through the crowds as though they weren’t there. Finally, we reached a classroom at the end of the hallway.

Again, I entered the room as quietly as I could, only this time, I followed Ali, who provided more than enough distraction to the two other people in the room. Both boys were looking at her, glancing between her face and her hemline with looks of glee.

“Hey, Ali,” one said, grinning.

“Hey, Alex,” she grinned back, and giggled at the look he was giving her skirt before whacking him lightly over the head. I smiled a bit. She had a nice laugh, too. I walked around the two and was about to sit down in a secluded desk again when I felt a hand yank back on my collar. “Oh, no you don’t,” Ali said, pulling me down to sit by her. “You need someone to help you out, right, newbie?”

“I-I…” I stuttered, trying to figure out how to get out of this. No brilliant plan immediately came to mind.

“Come on, Amy, talk with us…”

“Amy?” Alex asked. “Amy what?”

“Shiraishi,” I said quietly, blushing at how odd that sounded.

“Ah. Japanese, right?”

“Half,” I sighed, not wanting to go through this again.

“I see you already met my twin,” he said, laughter clear in his voice.

“Er…”

“If you mean Adam, and I’m assuming you’re not hiding a triplet from us, then yeah, she did,” Ali said all too cheerfully. “Get this: He asked her out!”

I blushed, and Alex laughed. “Don’t worry,” the twin said, calming down slightly, “I’m not into the anime cr—stuff he likes so much. We’re twins, not joined at the hip.” He shrugged, and held out a hand. “Alex Moon, nice to meet you. Hope you make this class more interesting. I heard Mrs. Awning’s a real bore.”

“She’s an excellent teacher,” the last student, who had remained snobbishly quiet, said, pushing a pair of thin glasses up his slightly large nose. “You’re lucky to have someone as knowledgeable as she to teach you.”

Ali sighed. “The only thing that she’ll be teaching us is how to fall asleep in five seconds flat from what I’ve heard, Henry. Besides—”

I never found out besides what, because at that moment a trembling voice broke through our conversation with only a little effort. “Ms. Page, detention for disrespect. Thank you, Henry dear, for your kind words.”

Turning around, I found Mrs. Awning standing in the door. Frankly, she looked rather like what I imagined my paternal grandmother would look like: thin, graying hair pulled up in a bun, a stooped back with a cane, a shawl around her shoulders, and a pair of colorful “old lady” glasses hanging on a chain around her neck. Her eyes, however, were very alive in her face, glaring around the room at the four of us. “Sit,” she commanded. I sat. “Take out your text books and turn to page one.” I fumbled in my backpack and yanked out the desired book, and flipped open the cover. “Eager, aren’t we?” she said, smiling tightly. I blushed for what felt like the fifth time today.

“Alright, class,” she announced in that trembling, yet strong, voice. “Would anyone like to try and translate the first passage in our book? Henry, why don’t you read?”

As Henry began to read about Cornelia and how she was sitting under a tree, I soon spaced out. It was a five line paragraph, so we’d probably be reading the second chapter in class as well, or working on some of the exercises.

A balled up piece of paper knocked against my foot, and I jumped. I glanced at Ali, and she winked at me. A note? I discretely picked up the paper and unfolded it.

You looked like you were spacing out. You need to at least look like you’re paying attention, or she’ll be all over you in a second.

I blinked for a second. Useful advice. Ali, for one reason or another, seemed dead-set on being my friend. I smiled a bit, not minding in the least. Quietly folding back the part of the paper with the first note, I jotted my own note onto the paper.

Thanks. What about you? Is Ms. Awning as boring as you thought she’d be? I tilted the paper so she could see what I had written. Ali looked surprised for a moment, then grinned widely.

More so. Question: are you a live-in? She jotted down, then adopted my method of note passing.

If live-in means boarder, then yes. Why? Are you?

Yeah. Maybe we’ll be in the same dorm.

I think I’d like that.

“Ms. Amy, can you tell me what the word for “she reads” is?” Mrs. Awning snapped out of the blue, looking directly at me with those scary beady eyes.

I gulped, thanking God that I had already gone over the first chapter. “Leget.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Correct. Ms. Page, will you share the word for “she writes”?”

“Scribet.” Ali answered, sounding rather bored.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Awning said. “Now, on to Exercise 1a. Mr. Moon, please translate the first question for us?”

Before she could ask another question, the bell mercifully rang. I quickly replaced my Latin book into my back pack, and waited for Ali.

“That was close,” I said as soon as the door had closed behind us.

“Yeah, it was,” she said, looking at me with an expression on her face that I hadn’t seen yet. “Nice recovery in there.”

“Thanks?” I said uncertainly, not sure if it was a compliment or not. “Anyway, we’d better get on to science, right?”

Her ever-present grin returned, and she nodded. “Right. Back to Mr. Wolfe’s class, then.” Again, she wove through the crowds easily, keeping a hold on my hand so I wouldn’t get lost. At least, I assumed so, though how I could get lost on a single floor was beyond me.

Mr. Wolfe’s class was as good as I expected from the momentary meeting this morning. He was a very vibrant teacher, easily able to keep the class’s attention as our minds attempted to wander. Mr. Wolfe started off the class with a short speech on safety procedures, something that made me rather nervous. The shower installed in every room and the spouts used for washing acid from our eyes weren’t helping at all. Neither was the look on Ali’s face.

Before we could actually get on to learning anything, the bell rang to signal the end of the class and the beginning of break.

“Well, that class gave me plenty of material,” Ali said, still grinning from ear to ear. “What do you think?”

“Yes,” I agreed, perhaps a bit ingenuously. “It should be a very educating class.”

She looked at me in that weird way of hers again. “Yeah, I suppose…”

I gulped. “Anyway, we’ve got a good thirty minutes, what do you want to do?”

“What’s our next class?”

“I’ve got band,” I said, shrugging. “You have chorus, I think you said?”

“Yeah,” Ali said thoughtfully. “The arts are all on the senior floor. Downstairs, then?” I nodded, and she continued as we walked to the stairwell. “What instrument do you play, anyway?” She opened the door for me, and I answered as we walked languidly down the flight of steps.

“Flute. I’ve been playing out of school since third grade, and I thought I’d join band this year.”

“Really?” she asked, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. “It fits you. The instrument I mean.” Seeing my puzzled look, she continued. “It’s a delicate instrument, and typically thought of as very feminine. It can produce an extremely beautiful and mysterious sound, with the right piece and musician, that is.” Turning off on the senior floor, she continued her impromptu lecture. “Drummers are always hitting something, and are often very violent and annoying. Trumpets often take the lead, but they can be very brazen, which fits, considering they’re brass instruments. Tubas are slow, and too deep, as is the baritone and trombone. Clarinets are almost as good as flutes, as far as I’m concerned, but the flute usually has the melody, and clarinets usually take harmony. Plus, in the hands of a rookie, clarinets squeak. Saxophones are the same way. At least, in band. Orchestras are completely different.” She seemed to catch herself when she glanced at my curious expression. “Well, that’s my opinion, at least.”

“You know a lot about instruments, for someone not in band.”

She laughed. “I used to be, in fifth and sixth grade. Played the trumpet. That was when we could take band and chorus at the same time. But I liked singing more than I liked playing, so when you could only take one or the other in seventh up, I stuck with choir. Now I sing soprano, though I’ve still got my trumpet somewhere at home.” We came to the arts hall on the senior floor, and I looked between the choir room and the band room uncertainly.

Again, Ali took my hand and led me into the choir room. “Ryan’s probably in the band room already, and I doubt you want to meet up with him before you have to.”

I nodded. “Thanks a bunch.”

“Why didn’t you take band the other years? Did your school not have a program, or what?” Sitting in one of the desks, I sat my head in my palm. Ali sat next to me, watching as I explained.

“I don’t know, really. I think…” I blushed, thinking about how stupid this would sound. “Well, I’m really shy, and you’re right about the flute getting the melody a lot. I guess I didn’t really want to be in the spotlight. And I like playing. I’m good at it, according to my teacher. She always said that I was her best student, that I really had talent. If that’s true, then if a piece we’re playing has a solo part, I would end up with it. I don’t like being the center of attention, not if I can help it.” I glanced over at Ali, and was surprised to find her nodding understandingly.

“Yeah, I can see that. But you know, you should really try to get over that hesitance of yours. It’s cute, but it’ll really hinder you here.”

“What?” I asked, surprised. Had she just called me cute?

“Did you go to a big school before you came here?” she asked, switching directions really fast.

Bemused as to what this could have to do with anything, I answered, “Yeah…”

“There you go,” she said, crossing her legs. “You could afford to blend into the background there. So many people, no one’s going to notice just one more, right? But here,” she gestured, “there’s a lot fewer. Believe me, you’ll end up sticking out as “the shy geek” if you don’t start sticking out in a way you want to.” The bell rang before she could add anymore.

Ali winked at me. “Think about it,” was her last comment as I stood and walked to the door. “Later!” she called after me as I left.

I walked across the hallway to the band room. My schedule said that the teacher was a “Ms. Popper.” Opening the door, I grabbed my instrument from the back of the room and sat, setting up and running through a simple scale, playing it faster as I warmed up, then working on tone. I hadn’t played for a couple of days, because I was so busy packing for boarding school.

Surprisingly, I was one of the first ones there. A saxophone sat two chairs down, there were a couple of clarinets on the other side of the room, and a lone trumpet in the second row, but otherwise, no one else. Glancing at the other instrument cases, I recognized a total of four alto saxes, three other trumpets, two more clarinets, a tuba, it looked like, another flute, and a trombone. There were a few that I didn’t know, but I guessed I would find out soon.

“Alright, everyone,” someone said from the back of the room. “Run your scales for about two more minutes while we wait for the rest of the class, and then I’ll hand out our concert pieces.”

As she spoke, four boys entered through the door, three of which I recognized as Ryan, Ben, and Alex. A fourth boy was laughing with them, who grinned at me before all of them headed to the back of the room. I sighed. Percussionists… Alice Thompson, the popular girl in my homeroom, strut in next, picking up the other flute case. She sat down next to me and set up, completely ignoring my presence. I ran the B-flat scale again, then the arpeggio, careful not to hit her with the long instrument. I had a feeling she wouldn’t take kindly to that at all.

Several more students filed into the room, picking up cases or heading to the back, taking up their places in the rows and setting up.

“Alright, everyone,” Ms. Popper announced again, tapping a small baton against a stand in front of her. “I want to hear a C-scale before we get started. I don’t think I need to call roll, I’ll learn you names soon enough. Now, together!”

Hearing the scale being played, I personally evaluated the band as a whole. The percussion could afford to back off a bit. Alice and I should probably play louder, and I could barely hear the four clarinets either. The quartet of trumpets sounded good, and the tuba and trombone would be able to keep the beat no problem. The saxes (four alto, two tenor, and even a baritone) were in tune and at a good volume. I nodded, noticing a bass clarinet out of the corner of my eye. Interesting choice of instrument. I wonder why he chose that.

I placed my flute across my lap as I grinned at Alice next to me. I was thrilled to be playing in a group, and I couldn’t wait to get some real music. Alice looked at me like I was retarded, and turned back to Ms. Popper without even a word.

I looked at her quizzically. What was her problem with me? I wondered, remembering the glare that she had given me this morning.

“Good job, everybody, I think we sound pretty good. We have a good range of instruments here, with a good number. Percussion, all of you need to back off a bit, except the bass. Snare drums don’t take much to get a noise out of them, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t break a drum head again,” she said, looking at one of the older students, who grinned sheepishly.

“Okay, so our first concert will be this winter,” she began to explain. “The Holiday Concert, though I think we could probably get away with playing something besides just Christmas music. That being said,” she finished, gathering a pile of sheet music. “The piece we’re going to run today is called, “Hanukah Begins.” It’s an upbeat piece, but we’ll take it slow at first, alright?” I nodded, though I didn’t see if anyone else did.

She passed out music, asking students their names as they received the song. “Alright, miss, who are you?” she asked Alice, giving her the sheet music.

“Alice Thompson, Ms. Popper,” she said perkily. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Ms. Popper beamed back. “Alright, then. Can you play the bottom part of the division here?” she asked, smiling. Alice scowled.

Then it was my turn. “Your name, please?”

“Amy. Amy Shiraishi,” I said.

“Amy, Beautiful name. I want you to play the higher part where it says divide alright? You know what that means?”

I nodded, slightly annoyed with her condescending attitude. She was treating me like a little kid! I decided to try and show her exactly what I could do.

The flutes were the last instruments to get music, so Ms. Popper returned to the stand to tap her baton against it. “Alright, practice run. Everyone ready?”

She raised the baton, and I raised my flute to my lips. I had glanced over the music, and it looked easy enough. She counted us off, and I lost myself. It was an upbeat tune, and I could feel myself tapping my feet to the beat. The drums were, as always, a little loud, but I could hear my flute soaring clearly. At the end of the piece, Ms. Popper was looking at me a little surprised, and I could almost feel daggers stabbing into my side from where Alice was glaring at me.

“Amy…” Ms. Popper murmured. “That was… that was very good. May I see you after class?” I nodded. “Alright, can we work on dynamics, please? There’s a crescendo before measure 25, and I need to hear that, winds. Brass, your dynamic marking is piano right now. I just barely need to hear you. Tuba, bass clarinet, play measure eight for me.”

I sat my flute on my lap as she ran through separate parts with the rest of the band. “What is it?” I asked Alice softly, not looking at her, but still knowing that she was angry.

“If you haven’t noticed, I don’t like you. Just stay out of my way, got it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been playing flute for five years. I’ve been first chair for flute in middle school all four years, and this is my fifth year in the Vale Academy band. You’re a new kid, you don’t have any place in this school whatsoever.”

I bent my head, thinking. Strangely enough, what Ali had said about sticking out the way I wanted to stick out popped into my head. I liked playing the flute, and just because Alice said I shouldn’t play better than her did not mean that I would.

But…

But I didn’t really want to stick out at all. Ali had a convincing argument, but I didn’t want to believe it right now.

I shrugged, not wanting to agree or disagree. “I’ve never played in a band before,” I started.

Alice interrupted. “So what makes you think you can just come in here and take first chair like that?”

“But,” I continued, annoyed at her interruption but hiding it, “I’ve been playing flute since the third grade. That’s seven years. I like playing it a lot, and I think I’m good at it. I’m sorry you seem to dislike me for a petty reason like that.”

Alice stared at me for a couple of seconds, but before she could say anything, Ms. Popper tapped the baton again. We ran through the piece twice more before the director told us to pack up our instruments. I opened my battered instrument case, and placed my dissembled flute onto the worn plush. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Alice’s flute looked brand new. The case was lined with what looked like deep blue real velvet. The case was pristine. I felt a flash of jealousy, looking down at my own flute. My name was engraved in kanji on the back of the head joint, and the rest was polished as much as it could be. It was old, but cared for. I shook the jealousy away, and lovingly packed my flute. I placed it in the back of the room, and approached Ms. Popper.

“Amy, your performance on that piece… Have you seen it before?” I shook my head. “Wow. For a first time, that was almost perfect. How long have you been playing?”

“Seven years.”

She looked at me, amazed. “Wow,” she said again. “Look, I didn’t hear from Mr. Schuesner about you, so I’m guessing you’re new here.” I nodded. “Well, we’re set up similarly to an orchestra, with chairs and so on. Would you mind being first chair for the flutes, please?”

I hesitated. If I accepted the position, then Alice would never leave me alone. “May I have some time to think about it?”

Ms. Popper nodded. “Sure, that’s fine. Take as much time as you need. But I hope you agree. You’re a very good musician. You enjoyed playing that piece, didn’t you?” I nodded again. “I could tell. It came through very clearly.”

I smiled, and nodded my head once. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I left the band room swiftly, avoiding Alice’s glare. Surprisingly, Ali was waiting outside for me. “How was your class?” she asked, falling into step beside me.

I shrugged uncertainly. “It was okay…”

“What happened?” She sounded nonchalant, but her hand had tightened into a fist, I noticed absently.

“Nothing much. Ms. Popper wants me to play first chair for flute, and apparently someone else thinks it should be theirs,” I explained, acting as relaxed as Ali was. Distractedly, I wondered why she seemed upset. She relaxed as I shared my news, however, a grin breaking out over her face.

“First chair? As a freshman?! Goodnight, Amy, that’s fantastic! Congratulations!”

She seemed not to have heard the rest of my sentence… “Ali, I’m not sure I’m going to take it. Alice plays flute, too, and she seemed to be deadest on taking the lead.”

“Amy!” Ali exclaimed, surprised. “Don’t tell me you’re so passive as to let that bitch tell you what to do!” I shrugged noncommittally. She sighed, looking at me. “Girl, you need to start sticking up for yourself more. Keep acting like this, and you’ll be dating Adam in a week simply because you feel so sorry for him.”

“But it’s not just because I feel bad for Alice!” I tried to explain. “I told you, I don’t like being the center of attention!”

Ali sighed again. “Look, for now, let’s just get onto the next class. English, right?” I nodded. “Let’s go, then.” With that, she started walking up the stairwell to the freshman floor. Following her up the stairs, I wondered why Ali wanted to be my friend so badly. I shrugged it off, just being thankful that she did.

When we got to the classroom, Ali still wouldn’t look at me. I didn’t sit next to her like I had in other classes, because I thought she was mad at me. She glanced over at me, sighed and rolled her eyes before moving to sit down next to me. I looked quizzically at her. “Just because I’m annoyed with you doesn’t mean I’m going to abandon you. Surely you think better of me than that?” she commented, grinning at me.

I smiled a bit back. “Thanks. And yeah, I do think you’re nicer than that.” For a moment, she looked surprised, and then she just smiled again.

“Class!” Ms. Lee called, and gradually we all quieted down. “Alright, so here’s what we’re going to do for the rest of the year. Every Monday we’ll have vocabulary, and you’re to write ten sentences, one with each of our words. No articles, and sometimes I might throw something random in just to keep it interesting. Anyway, that’ll start next week. So today, I thought we’d all do something “fun” and “interesting” to keep you guys preoccupied until the bell rings and give me something to know you from.” Personally, I thought for sure that she was going to give out one of those “get-to-know-you” quizzes, but she didn’t. Instead, Ms. Lee surprised me by pulling out a glass cube full of cards and standing in the middle of the circle, holding it.

“Alright, everyone, these are conversation starters. I ask you all a question, and whoever wants to answer, answer. Hopefully, this will start some conversations and we’ll all learn about each other. I thought the questionnaire would have been a little repetitive.”

I grinned, and glanced over at Ali to see her reaction. She looked thoughtful, but there was a smile on her face. Looking around the rest of the room, I noticed that we weren’t the only ones that looked pretty excited.

“First question: What’s your favorite quotation and why?” Immediately, answers began flooding in.

“I like ‘Tragedy is when I cut my finger, comedy is when you walk into an open sewer and die.’” A boy whose nose turned up a little at the end said in a nasal voice, laughing loudly at his own joke.

“Why?” Ms. Lee asked curiously.

“Because it’s funny.”

“But there are other funny quotes out there. Why that one?” The question seemed to stump the boy.

This continued a few more times, with no one figuring out an answer to Ms. Lee’s question after about the first three. Funnily enough, the question seemed to travel around the circle. Too soon in my opinion, it was my turn. Most of the others had chosen amusing quotes, inside jokes, something a friend had said or something they had heard from a t-shirt or something like that. I paused. I knew my favorite quote, but I couldn’t remember who had said it.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I don’t know who said this, but…” I hesitate, wondering what kind of questions Ms. Lee would ask. “Well, I like the quote, ‘Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.’ I think it’s something my dad told me one time.”

Ms. Lee cocked her head to one side. “Why?”

“Well, I think it’s worded really well. I mean, the word-play between ‘mind’ and ‘matter’ makes it really easy to remember. Also, I think it applies.”

“Who does it apply to?”

“Maybe not to everyone, but it would in an ideal world.”

“What’s your idea of an ideal world?”

“I’d say…” I hesitated again. “I’d say some place where you could be different, and not be ridiculed for it.”

“What’s your definition of different?”

“Race, interests, religion, sexual orientation, whatever. I mean, different is what you perceive, right? So, if different is what you think different is, then there are different versions of different. I guess I mean that an ideal world would be a place where someone could be themselves, let themselves feel vulnerable like that, and not be wounded because someone doesn’t like the way they are.”

“But doesn’t that mean that if everyone was able to be different, and not be mocked, then they wouldn’t be mocked because they are not perceived as different? Isn’t that kind of defeating the purpose of different? It’s human nature to mock those that stand out, and if those that stand out are not mocked, then are they really standing out anymore?”

“Maybe… And I think I see what you’re getting at. I’m losing sight of the meaning of the quote, aren’t I? ‘Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind’ doesn’t mean that you should wish for a world where everyone accepted everyone for who they are, but that you should focus on finding those people ‘who matter and don’t mind’. It’s saying, “find the people who like you for who you are and make friends with them,” not “wish for the crowd to like you.” Right?”

Ms. Lee smiled in an almost secretive way at me. “If that’s what you think, then that’s what it is.” I nodded, still a little lost. Most of the others seemed confused as well, but Ali was looking at me searchingly, almost suspiciously.

“What?” I mouthed at her.

She shook her head. “Nothing,” she mouthed back.

Meanwhile, Ms. Lee had pulled another card out of the deck. “Okay, next question. If you could have any animal as a pet, what would it be and why?” She looked expectantly at Ali, who promptly launched into an explanation about how she would totally own a cobra, because snakes are just really awesome, and did you know that snake venom is actually used in making the antidotes?

This led to a discussion on doctors, which led to a discussion about what we wanted to be when we grew up. Eventually, the cards were given up, and set aside as the class broke up into pockets of conversation, completely unorganized yet again. There was an awkward silence where I was sitting, and I considered pulling out the Count again, since I hadn’t really gotten a chance to read much of it since this morning. That plan was thwarted as Ali asked me casually, “You used to be bullied, huh?” as if I had told her this myself. I was silent. “You know, if you don’t answer, I’m just going to assume that I’m right,” she continued matter-of-factly.

I sighed. “Yeah, by the same group of boys up until eighth grade. It’s the main reason my parents pulled me from Barker Grove and decided to pay to send me to boarding school.”

“Probably why you’re so shy, huh?” she asked me sympathetically.

I shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. It’s better here, away from Fatuus Maximus and all.”

That surprised a laugh out of her. “Well, at least you’ve got a sense of humor about it. That’s good.” Ali also gave me a small smile. “And I’m glad you think it’s better here.”

I nodded, and we continued to talk about stupid boys until the bell rang.

“Lunch!” Ali practically sang, leaping up from the desk and grabbing my arm. Half-expecting her to do that, I had already stood and grabbed my bag from beside my desk.

Laughing, she led me down the stairs and outside, to a building that I vaguely remembered from my tour of the school. This was the cafeteria, where we would be served breakfast, lunch and dinner. I just hoped the food here was edible.

My hopes were granted, and the food not only was edible, it was good. Ali chose a pre-wrapped cob salad from the service line, and I picked up a bowl of mashed potatoes. They were serving roast beef as well, but I was a vegetarian by choice and had requested no meat.

Getting out of the line, I was surprised to see the set up of the hall. When I had come to the school on my private tour, the tables hadn’t been set up yet, but they were now. Some tables were the long ones with benches that I had expected to see in a cafeteria, but there were a few large round tables with chairs, as well as a few smaller round tables for small groups of friends.

“Hey! New girl!”

I glanced up, surprised to see Ryan of all people waving to me frantically. Alice was sitting opposite him, glaring at me. A quote from a book I read recently floated into my head: If they were pistols, I wouldn’t be talking anymore… Something like that, at least. I shook my head, giving him a half smile, one that I knew he would interpret as, “sorry, I can’t,” but one I meant as, “you think I’m going to sit with you after homeroom?”

I don’t often hold grudges, but I couldn’t stand idiots.

“Shiraishi-san!!” came a new shout, and I saw Adam Moon waving even more frantically than Ryan was. I blushed at the attention and averted my eyes from him and a girl with kind of frizzy hair sitting next to him. Instead, I followed Ali as she led me to one of the smaller tables placed around the walls.

She sat down in one of the four chairs, and I sat across from her. Unwrapping her salad, she made a slightly disgusted face, then looked at my plate worriedly. “Just mashed potatoes? Are you sure that’s all you want?”

I nodded. “I don’t need to eat much, and this should give me enough energy. I’ll be fine.” I shrugged, adding, “Besides, I’m vegetarian.”

“Really?” Ali asked, sounding interested. “Why? Animal activist? Religion?”

“No… I just thought it would be a healthier lifestyle. I’ve lost about twenty pounds since I stopped eating meat, and the weight’s stayed off. I still eat fish, but I don’t miss red meat and chicken all that much.”

Ali nodded thoughtfully. “Wow, that’s pretty impressive.” We ate in silence for a while before she said abruptly. “You were reading The Count of Monte Cristo in homeroom, right?” I nodded, wondering where she was going with this. “One of my favorite Dumas works. Have you read The Three Musketeers yet?” Speechless, I shook my head. “I like The Count better, personally. I think we’re going to read something by Dumas later this year. It would be ironic if it was The Count, don’t you think?”

“You’ve actually read it?”

“Yeah. And I think that Ryan was a jerk to mock you like that. He shouldn’t have done that.” She smirked suddenly, and rattled off, “The Count’s real name is Edmond Dantes, and the three main villains are Monsieurs Villefort, Morcerf, and Danglars.”

My mouth worked, not actually saying anything as I stared at her in awe and surprise. She was the first freshman that I had met who wasn’t in college who even knew who Dumas was, let alone read anything by him willingly. “Wow…”

Ali’s smirk grew. “Yep.” She stood, and I automatically followed her as we threw away our things at the garbage cans, placing the plates in the window. “Come on, we have Study Hall next. Don’t worry, Amy, the day’s almost done.” I nodded, still surprised that the other girl liked the same book.

Neither of us did anything during study hall. I finally had a chance to at least finish the chapter I was on, and Ali spent the time scribbling in a notebook.

We said good bye to each other as we left the study hall area, heading to our separate math classes. I had Mr. Winters on the sophomore floor, and Ali had Mrs. McQuin for geometry on the Freshman floor. I had taken geometry last year at Barker Grove, so I had been catapulted into higher math.

I entered the bare classroom and sat down in a desk towards the back to wait for the teacher to come in. I didn’t recognize any of the sophomores, but that was understandable.

Suddenly, everyone went completely silent. A tall, thin man with blonde hair was standing in the doorway. “Good afternoon, class,” he said smoothly, strolling into the room. “I am Mr. Winters. Would you all please work these problems on the board? They’re Algebra I, hardly worth the time, but I want to make sure that you are all where you should be,” he continued, looking directly at me. I gulped, and pulled out paper and pencil to work the first problem. Finishing, I moved on to the rest, placing my pencil down when he called time. I had gotten all of them done, luckily, and was in the middle of checking them.

“Congratulations,” he called out in that sibilant voice. “You’ve just had your first pop quiz. Pass your papers forwards, please. Homework is on the board, and I will be here until five and at seven in the morning as well for help. Please come with any questions you might have.” The bell rang, and I practically ran out of the classroom, Mr. Winters calling after me, “Have a nice evening!”

I gulped, and dashed up the stairwell back to the freshman floor. I made my way through the crowd to my locker, and blinked as I found a note pinned to it.

Unfolding the bright green piece of paper, I found a flyer.

Artistic? Musically Inclined? Like performing?

Then Try out for CLUB ARTE

Club Arte is a new school sponsored organization that is dedicated to

finding and showcasing talent among the student body.

Tryouts are September 25 and September 26.

WE NEED YOU

“Looks interesting, doesn’t it?”

I jumped and spun around, somehow not surprised to find Ali standing there. She gave a small wave. “Hey-o. Saw you standing here, and thought we could walk back to the dorm together.” I nodded, and followed her down the stairs after I had packed my books into my backpack. I had been so wrapped up in thinking about the flyer that I hadn’t noticed the rest of the students dissipate.

“Amy!” I snapped out of my thoughts as I heard my name being called. From Ali’s tone of voice, she must have been calling my name a few times, and I hadn’t heard it. I blushed.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. What was the question?”

She leaned in close to my face, peering into my eyes. “You okay?” My blush intensified, and I almost tripped going down the steps. She grabbed my arm, and I steadied myself, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” I apologized again. “I’m okay. I was just thinking about that flyer pinned to my locker.”

“Like I said earlier,” Ali shrugged, “It looks interesting.” I nodded.

“Yeah, the tryouts will be fun to watch.”

“Yeah…” she paused, turning to me as we reached the senior floor. “Wait, Amy, watch?!” It was my turn to shrug. are you kidding me? You have to try out!”

“Why?”

“Wouldn’t you like to show up Alice?” I just looked at her. “B-But you like playing the flute so much! You told me yourself!”

“I also told you that I don’t like being the center of attention. Please, I’m not going to audition for the club. I really don’t want to.”

“What if you and I did a duet together?”

I turned around to face her as we reached the bottom of the steps to the school. “What?”

“I could duet, me singing, you playing. The spotlight would be on me. I could even say that it was a track or something. You could be an anonymous member!”

I blinked. “Why do you want me to try out for this so badly?” We continued to walk away from the school and around to the dorms.

“I thought it would be fun…” she said, gesturing vaguely. “Besides, you might like it. You never know! Come on, Amy, please?”

I sighed. “I’ll think about it, alright? Let’s just get back to the dorm.”

Ali sulked most of the way back, giving me a chance to think. The dorms were set up so that there were four people in a double room. The rooms were arranged almost like a hotel suite—there was a center room, then two bedrooms and two bathrooms. Some rooms had only one bedroom (these being shared by two people), but most were suites.

“What’s your room number?” Ali asked suddenly.

“221. You?”

She sighed. “222. I’m right across the hall, at least.” There was another pause as we walked up the steps to the dorms. They were built along the same lines as the school building itself, but instead of red with white windows and doors, it was white with black windows and doors. We walked up to the second floor in silence, and I waved good bye to her as she entered into room 222. I heard squealing from behind the door, so I guessed that she had a friend in her room. I fumbled for my key and unlocked the door. Gulping, I slipped into the room to meet my roommates.

I heard giggling from one of the bedrooms. Apparently the other girls were already settled in. Great. I already felt a little left out. Quietly, I continued into the other bedroom. I could meet them later.

The room was pink, and absolutely full. Was the other room empty, then? Where was I supposed to sleep? Awkwardly, I went into the common room. Hesitating, I finally knocked on the door. Immediately, the girls fell silent. “Who’s there?” one of them called through the door.

“Er, my name’s Amy, and I’m supposed to sleep here…?”

“Amy?” Someone said incredulously. “Alice, isn’t that the girl you said was stealing Ryan?”

Alice? I thought, a little incredulous myself. Oh no…

The door was yanked open, and I found myself face to face with Alice Thompson, and she did not look happy. I automatically took a step back under the force of her glare.

“Hi,” I squeaked.

“Hello,” she said. I swear the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees.

I gulped. “Er, I’m supposed to stay in this room…?”

“I heard.” I could see May and April peering around her at me. May tentatively gave a small wave and smiled, before April did… something, and she squeaked.

“I was just wondering where I should put my stuff,” I said with more courage than I felt.

“May and April already have this room. You’ll have to bunk with me.” Gee, you sound so excited about it, I thought, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Ali.

Squelching the urge to say that, I instead stuttered out, “A-alright.” I returned to the pink room, as I had already dubbed it, and reopened the door. “Alice?” I asked, knowing that she had followed from the sound of her feet. “Do you have the bottom or the top bunk?”

“The top.”

“Where are my other things?” I asked, setting my backpack over by the desk that had less stuff piled on it. I turned around to face her, and saw that she looked reluctant to say anything. “What?”

“Well, we were told that we were the only ones in this room,” she said, giving me yet another scathing glare. “So when we found extra stuff in here, we figured that all of it had been misplaced. We sent it to lost and found.”

You mean you sent it to lost and found. I sighed, squashing my inner Ali again. “Alright, I’ll be right back. Would you mind if I cleared off some of your stuff from the bottom bunk and this desk?” I asked, gesturing to the desk that I was standing beside.

“Fine,” she said grudgingly, turning on her heel and walking back to the other room. I followed her, turning out the door so that I could go get my bags.

I walked down the stairs to the communal floor. Each dorm building was three stories tall, with the boys floor on top, the girls floor second, and the communal floor (with a lobby, snack machine, game room, and office) on the bottom. The common floor was where the lost and found would be, and where the few dorm proctors would sleep as well, two for each of the floors, with a pair of girls for the girls, and boys for the boys.

Finally reaching the office, I explained to the receptionist about the misunderstanding, and she just pointed to the lost and found section. There they were, my trunk and my duffel bag, with my other backpack and toiletries precariously perched on top. I sighed, and picked up the blue backpack and the matching bag and headed for the stairs, desperately wishing for an operational elevator. I glared at the “out of order” sign posted on the pair of metal doors in front of the only elevator as I passed it.

I trudged up the stairs and dropped off my backpack and bag in Alice’s room, and returned to the office to get the duffel bag that held my bedding and pillow. I lugged that up the stairs too, and once again returned to retrieve my trunk.

Alright, Shiraishi, I told myself, staring at the dauntingly heavy trunk. My dad might be able to pick it up, but even he needed help to get it into the car. There was no way I was getting it up those stairs… Think positive! This is the last load, you can manage. Just one stair at a time.

I dragged it out the door of the office. How uniforms could be so heavy, I’ll never know. My books and notebooks were in my backpack. I just had the uniforms, another pair of shoes like the ones I was wearing, a pair of boots and my laptop. “This shouldn’t be so heavy…” I complained softly. I barely managed to get the door to the stairwell open, and even then I still had to contend with the actual stairs.

“Need some help?” I heard a voice say from the top of the flight. I looked up, and saw the brown-haired boy from homeroom who had smiled at me.

“You’re John, right?” I asked. I wanted to make sure I had the right name of my savior. “Yeah, I could really use a hand.”

He nodded, and came down the stairs to lend some muscle. “Girls,” he grunted as he hefted the trunk. “They always pack way too heavily.” He helped me carry it up the stairs, continuing to talk. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t talk. I mean, I’ve got about five different pairs of shoes, and then there’s my gel and hair brush and the four shampoos I need to avoid too much frizz. I mean, what am I supposed to do in humid weather, just look like a bush?” I giggled, and he looked at me curiously. “What?”

“I was expecting you to hit on me, but then I remembered you were gay.”

He smiled slightly. “Well, I wouldn’t have been the first one, huh? Ryan was really bothering you in homeroom.” He sighed. “Just be careful with that one. He doesn’t look like he should be, but he’s really popular. And smart, even if he doesn’t act like it. And cute, and funny, and…” he trailed off, a dreamy look in his eye. He suddenly seemed to realize that we were at the second floor, because he abruptly put down his end of the trunk and coughed. “Right, here you are. Think you can manage from here? The proctors get really pissed if they find you on the other gender’s floor.”

I nodded, smiling at him. “Thank you so much for helping me. I thought I’d have to carry it up by myself.”

He smiled back, and then turned serious, putting one hand on the door to stop me from going out yet. “I’m serious about what I said about Ryan. Try to discourage him as much as you can, because Alice is a real harpy when it comes to someone else taking what she thinks is hers.”

“They’re going out?” I asked, somehow not surprised. It would explain a lot of the enmity between Alice and me.

“Have been for about eight months. Just don’t antagonize either of them.” He left with a wink, going back down the stairs to complete whatever errand he had been on before stumbling onto me.

I got back to my assigned room without too many problems (only one stubbed toe). I quickly unpacked, taking inventory of my things and of the room as I did. It was a good sized dorm, with the bed in the right corner against the wall as you walk into the room. The window was against the left wall of the room in the center, with identical desks on either side of it. On the back wall, there were two doors, one leading to a large closet, the other to the smaller bathroom.

I put my toiletries in the cabinet under the sink, and returned to the room. I made the bed with clean light purple sheets, spreading the black flannel blanket over it.

I dragged my trunk over to the window and placed my other set of folded light green sheets on it, spreading my dark green blanket over the whole ensemble. It formed a wonderful window seat, though it stood out greatly against all of the shades of pink that Alice’s things had.

Alice’s stuff was mainly pink, while mine leaned toward the darker spectrum of blacks and dark blues, greens, and purples. Just another one of the many differences between the two of us. I sighed. This was going to be an interesting year, with a girly-girl as a roommate…

I went back into the common room with my lap top and settled into one couch to write in my password-protected (setecr—an anagram of secret) diary.

Well, Edmond, today has definitely been an interesting day. My first day at boarding school, remember? Well, I got my room assignment, and all three of the girls seem rather aloof. Alice seems to hold a grudge against me, and May and April just follow her. From what I’ve seen, they’re the main popular girls of our grade, with three or four other ones. This is judging from the lunch tables though. The cafeteria is—

“Oh, you’re back,” said a voice from above me, and I looked up to find all three of the girls looking at me.

“Yes,” I said neutrally.

“Have you gotten set up?” May asked curiously, flouncing into the couch across from me. I nodded. “Oh, that’s good,” she added, grinning happily at me.

“You have alaptop?” came from Alice.

Ignoring the clear “why does someone like you have a laptop,” I nodded again, adding, “I bought it myself, after saving for over a year.”

She rolled her eyes, and daintily sat on the couch next to May. April sat across from her, near my feet. Within five seconds, all three had forgotten about me and were deep in a discussion of what some star or another had worn to the last movie premiere. Personally, I preferred the stars that were in the sky, so I left when I couldn’t bear the giggling any more. I don’t think any of them even noticed.

I hesitated in front of Ali’s dorm, wondering if I shouldn’t just go down to the lobby or see if I couldn’t find a way onto the roof. Quickly, I raised my hand, knocking on the door before I could talk myself out of it.

I waited about five seconds, and was about to turn to leave when the door opened, a frazzled looking girl of slightly shorter stature looked out at me.

“Um, hi, I was just wondering if Ali was in here…?” I asked uncomfortably. She blinked for a second, then pulled me in, hiding behind me.

I glanced around the room, askance. We moved in less than five hours ago. How did a room get so messy already?

A shout from my right warned me to duck, and a pillow careened over my head. Another shout, this one from my left, admonished my attacker, saying, “Hey, you know that’s against the rules, Phoebe! No civilians!”

Recognizing the voice, I stood again, looking around for Ali. “A pillow fight, Ali? Well, I suppose that’s one way to get to know your roommates…”

She laughed nervously. “Yeah, well, better than one of those questionnaires, right? We should have the teachers use my method.”

“Should have known,” I whispered under my breath.

“Anyway,” she continued, “The one who kidnapped you is Phoebe Shane, the one who threw the pillow is Shelby Adams, and the one defending Phoebe’s position is Lily Spencer. Girls, meet Amy Shiraishi. Yes, Phoebe, she’s half-Japanese.” She leaned towards me, having rescued me from my “kidnapper” to stage whisper, “Keep an eye on her. Manga geek.” I nodded, finally recognizing the girl from lunch who had been sitting with Adam Moon. “So,” she asked. “What’s up?”

I shrugged. “Not much. I was just wondering what you were doing, that’s all. Just to be safe, I think I’ll go. No offense,” I added, “I just don’t want to get hit with a pillow.”

“Alright,” she said, apparently eager to return to the melee. I nodded to her, walked past a star struck Phoebe and out the door, shutting it behind me.

Reluctantly, I reentered the room, pausing when I realized the ever-present giggling had cut off at my return. I sighed, and retreated to Alice’s room. I stretched out on the bottom bunk, tapping away at my journal. After finishing the entry, I completed my math homework, then typed in about another 2000 words on “The Bluebird”, one of my stories. When Alice still hadn’t returned by nine, I powered down my laptop and slipped it into my case under my bed, along with my empty duffel bag.

Mechanically, I went through the motions of taking a shower and brushing my teeth, which gave me a chance to think about my time at boarding school. Quick recap:

Good things about boarding school: Friendly people, independence good teachers.

Bad things about boarding school: Overly friendly people, hateful people, and some bad teachers.

I could live with this. It might even be fun.

Turning off the light, I lay in bed for a while, running scenarios for stories and for life through my head until I drifted off to sleep.