Scene 10 High School: First day
Her backpack was heavier then usual its weight more even, filled with books she would prefer to leave elsewhere. Kat crossed the threshold her self-assured half smile held just a little too tight, a moment away from collapsing into a grimace. She didnt look nervous or scared; she didnt have to in high school they can smell your fear.
She glanced both ways down the hallway to see which way the locker numbers were going. She was especially careful to move at a relaxed pace so she didnt appear lost. She headed towards her locker and found it without trouble. The locker was a half height locker of a light beige colour and she had lucked out and gotten a top locker. That meant that she could use her locker without anyone crushing over her and without kneeling or squatting. The worst she would have to put up with was someone trying to squeeze underneath her. She opened up the locker, put her backpack onto the lockers bottom and pulled out her lock and two books. One book was her new two-inch navy blue binder for English. The other was her student planner, which she had customized by laying down overlapping strips of electrical tape, giving the book black corrugated rubber front and back covers. Kat was sure that she would be carrying more books when she came back as the English teacher would certainly assign them one or more texts. Holding the books across her stomach with her left hand, she locked the locker and her stainless steel combination lock using her right hand. The warning bell rang and she went to her class.
Kat had arrived early because her locker was relatively close to the classroom. The classroom was arranged as a compromise between archaic rows and the more modern group work clusters. The desks were paired and in rows of these pairs. Kat selected a seat second from the back and on the far row by the window. There was a small Southeast Asian girl already sitting quietly in the window seat so Kat sat down beside her. This, she figured, was ideal seating not too close to the front where she would look like a keener, not in the back with the troublemakers, off on the side where the teacher wont notice her too much and she would be able to see everyone in the room. She turned to the girl beside her and said, Hi, Im Kat, Kat Gibson.
The girl turned toward Kat and nervously looked from her purple hair and nose piercing to her big boots and replied, um Harpreet. Harpreet then turned back to her notebook where she was doodling loopy little flowers with her red inked bic pen.
The room filled quickly and predictably with the trouble makers in the back, the geeks in the front and the cool clique along the wall closest to the door. Somewhere in the bustle the teacher had slipped in. The bell rang and the teacher took attendance. The teacher was old; he was over fifty and perhaps nearing retirement. To his grade nine English class he looked one hundred. His name was Mr. Johnson, as the board behind him declared, and he was five foot seven with broad shoulders gray hair that was leaning towards white and a round friendly face with inviting blue eyes which were partially obscured by glasses with tri-focal lenses. It was, however, a face that would be quite frightening to high school students if it were to look stern with the jaw set as it did when he asked for the class to be quiet.
Her backpack was heavier then usual its weight more even, filled with books she would prefer to leave elsewhere. Kat crossed the threshold her self-assured half smile held just a little too tight, a moment away from collapsing into a grimace. She didnt look nervous or scared; she didnt have to in high school they can smell your fear.
She glanced both ways down the hallway to see which way the locker numbers were going. She was especially careful to move at a relaxed pace so she didnt appear lost. She headed towards her locker and found it without trouble. The locker was a half height locker of a light beige colour and she had lucked out and gotten a top locker. That meant that she could use her locker without anyone crushing over her and without kneeling or squatting. The worst she would have to put up with was someone trying to squeeze underneath her. She opened up the locker, put her backpack onto the lockers bottom and pulled out her lock and two books. One book was her new two-inch navy blue binder for English. The other was her student planner, which she had customized by laying down overlapping strips of electrical tape, giving the book black corrugated rubber front and back covers. Kat was sure that she would be carrying more books when she came back as the English teacher would certainly assign them one or more texts. Holding the books across her stomach with her left hand, she locked the locker and her stainless steel combination lock using her right hand. The warning bell rang and she went to her class.
Kat had arrived early because her locker was relatively close to the classroom. The classroom was arranged as a compromise between archaic rows and the more modern group work clusters. The desks were paired and in rows of these pairs. Kat selected a seat second from the back and on the far row by the window. There was a small Southeast Asian girl already sitting quietly in the window seat so Kat sat down beside her. This, she figured, was ideal seating not too close to the front where she would look like a keener, not in the back with the troublemakers, off on the side where the teacher wont notice her too much and she would be able to see everyone in the room. She turned to the girl beside her and said, Hi, Im Kat, Kat Gibson.
The girl turned toward Kat and nervously looked from her purple hair and nose piercing to her big boots and replied, um Harpreet. Harpreet then turned back to her notebook where she was doodling loopy little flowers with her red inked bic pen.
The room filled quickly and predictably with the trouble makers in the back, the geeks in the front and the cool clique along the wall closest to the door. Somewhere in the bustle the teacher had slipped in. The bell rang and the teacher took attendance. The teacher was old; he was over fifty and perhaps nearing retirement. To his grade nine English class he looked one hundred. His name was Mr. Johnson, as the board behind him declared, and he was five foot seven with broad shoulders gray hair that was leaning towards white and a round friendly face with inviting blue eyes which were partially obscured by glasses with tri-focal lenses. It was, however, a face that would be quite frightening to high school students if it were to look stern with the jaw set as it did when he asked for the class to be quiet.
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They have movies. They have stuff to decorate our rooms. They have hairdye, and they have food. Most importantly, they have cute cheap panties.
They may be an evil corporation, but they're open 24 hours, and after 2 am in Tallahassee, everything else but Walmart, McDonald's, and Steak N Shake is closed. Thus, you'll see a lot of me going to those places.