Page 5 of Inception

I waited patiently, racking my fingers on the counter as I pretended to take an interest in the academia posters and public service announcements plastered all over the eggshell walls.

The office door swung open behind me as a tall blond girl walked in with a stack of books cradled in her arm. Her long flowing hair was parted neatly to the side and looked as though it were lifted straight out of a magazine.

“Morning, Candice. I need a late slip for homeroom. Mr. Bradley won’t let me in.”

“Good grief, Miss Valentine. The day you actually manage to get to class on time is the day I hang up my gloves in here for good,” she said in a semi-scolding manner as she rolled her chair back and disappeared below the desk.

The girl turned to me with a mocking face, mouthing the words, “what gloves?”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re new,” she smiled. It wasn’t a question. “I’m Taylor.”

“Jemma,” I smiled back.

“Cute kicks.”

I glanced down and noticed our matching pairs of black Converse sneakers. “Yours are pretty cute too.”

“Great minds,” she winked.

“Here she is,” cooed Ms. Tate, pulling out a pink pad from the bottom drawer and jotting something down onto it.

“What’s your schedule look like?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I said and looked over at Candice.

She handed Taylor a sheet of paper, presumably my class schedule. “Perhaps you might escort Miss Blackburn to her class?” She eyed Taylor as she wrote. “It is her first day after all.”

“Love to,” she smiled and turned back to me, her round, denim blue eyes sparkling. “The longer this takes, the better. I seriously can’t stand history.”

“Me neither,” I laughed, and left out the part about how I hated the other subjects too.

All eyes were on Taylor and me when we walked into our first-periodWorld Historyclass together. A short, balding man with a white chemise and beige pants stood at the front of the class, an open book in one hand and a piece of white chalk in the other. He didn’t look pleased by the intrusion.

“Miss Valentine,” he said, in a low staccato voice. “Nice of you to join us. I see you brought a friend with you.”

I felt my cheeks warm as the entire class gawked at me.

“She’s a new student, Mr. Bradley,” explained Taylor. “I was in the office helping her get registered. That’s why I’m late,” she added and then turned around with a smirk before taking my transfer papers and handing them over to him.

“Of course it is, Miss Valentine,” he said sardonically as he took the papers from her and looked them over. “Very well. Find yourself a seat, Miss Blackburn. Any seat will do.”

Taylor waved me off before heading to the back of the class. She took her seat next to a pretty brunette with thin almond-shaped eyes the color of an aquamarine stone who would have been even prettier if it wasn’t for that nasty scowl she was wearing; which, consequently, seemed to be directed right at me.

There was a definite hate-on-first-sight feel to it.

I scanned the class and found an empty seat on the other side of the room, mid-row against the wall. I moved to it quickly, avoiding all eye contact as I shuffled down the aisle.

“You can share Mr. Pratt’s textbook until you get your own,” said Mr. Bradley, motioning to the brown-eyed blond guy with the buzz-cut and industrial piercing sitting beside me. He scooted his desk over to mine and pushed his book closer.

“Thanks.”

“Noproblemo,” he said, grinning. “I’m Ben.”

“Jemma.”

“Make sure to see me after school,” continued Mr. Bradley, at the front of the class. “We can go through what you need to get caught up with the rest of the class.”

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