"Mom!" I groaned, pushing her hands away from my hair. "Mom, stop, you're embarrassing me." She continued to run her manicured fingers through my hair, trying to neaten my curls.
"Sweetheart, I just want you to look nice!" She said, fidgeting. Her deep brown eyes filled with worry. I swear she's acting more nervous than me, and I'm the one going!
"I look fine, Mom!" She licked her thumb, slicking down my thick brown eyebrows. "Mommy!" I whined, grabbing my beige book bag from the front seat. "You're going to make me late!"
"Okay, baby." She says, finally leaving me alone. I begun to walk towards the entrance, staring at the passage way. Cold Spring High School in big bold letters. "Wait!" She called, forcing me to turn and face her, she's now a few feet away, leaning on the car. "I love you," she mouths, and I smile.
"I love you too, Mom." I yelled back, earning a few glances from other students.
At the front door, I paused, suddenly realizing how nervous I was. My heart was beating its way out of my chest, and I started to pull at the sleeves of my jacket.
All these people have been going here for months now; years even. They all know each other, now they'll have something else to focus their attention on: me.
Oh no. I'll be labeled as "the new girl". I'll be a freak. A curiosity! I'll just be the socially awkward girl from the big city, that nobody likes! Oh god! Blake was right!
No. No. I can do this, I repeated in my head over and over. I can do this. Maybe, if I said it enough I could actually convince myself of it.
"Hey!" Someone yelled from behind me, making me flinch, pulling me from reverie. "You're blocking the door." She pointed out. I stepped out of the way and she pushed past me, going inside.
I furrowed my eyebrows, bracing myself, then going in. I took in all the different smells coming from way too many directions, the double green lockers that dressed every wall.
I remembered my Mom telling me something about picking up a schedule from the office, but there weren't exactly neon arrows pointing me in the way to go.
I noticed two girls laughing by their lockers, burning time, and I cleared my throat, walking up to them. "E-excuse me," I stuttered. They stopped laughing, giving me a once over, then turning back to their conversations. "Okay..." I muttered, walking down the hall, ignoring all the curious glances I was getting from people.
There was an open door, and I looked inside it, but it was just a small classroom. There was a tall man standing over the desk, looking down at some papers, so I decided to ask him.
"Excuse me, sir?" I started, and he looks up at me, peeking through considerably long lashes. "Do you know where the front office is?" I asked. He raised a brow.
"The principal's office? It's just down the hall." He walked over to me, and I switched the hand that I was holding my bag in to the other nervously. "Who are you?"
"I'm Brooklyn. Brooklyn Davis. I'm new." I explained quickly, and he stared down at me momentarily, as if trying to figure something out.
"Alright, I'm Mr. Rising. I'll show you where it is." He exited the room, and I followed behind him quietly, holding my head down to avoid staring at people.
We reached the room at the end of the hall, and Mr. Rising walked me in. The room was surprisingly warmer than out there, but I guess it was due to the fact it had the cheap commercial carpet.
There were pictures and awards cluttering the walls, phones ringing off the hook, and three large desks; one of which, was manned by a skinny orange haired lady, with really huge blue eyes. And too much red lipstick.
Mr. Rising left me there, going over to the lady at the front desk, talking to her while I waited patiently for him to come back. He beckoned towards me, and her eyes lit up with realization.
"I'll be right back, Brooklyn," he says, going into another room the read Principal. I sat down on the medal fold away by the door, which I assumed was for waiting.
There was a boy sitting down already, he seemed about my age, his brown hairs sticking up this way and that way on his head, like he rubbed through it every two minutes.
He looked up at me with his deep brown eyes, and I quickly looked away. I started picking at the rip on my knee, focusing on the happy face covered bandaid that Logan gave me yesterday.
Mr. Rising finally came back, and I stood up quickly, fully aware that he was still staring at me. I straightened my jeans, and he smiled brightly at me, handing me a piece of paper with my schedule on it, and a map of the school.
He explained to me how everything worked, showed me where each class was on the map, highlighting the best route to take to get there, and then showing me my locker number at the bottom of the paper.
I tried to keep up with him without getting overwhelmed. I couldn't believe this! I only had one more year of high school left, and I was forced to spend it here.
"Well, I'm completely aware that you have never been to school before, so I hope you like it, and I hope they go easy on you." He smiles at me, his hazel eyes shining.
"Thanks, Mr. Rising." I manage, and then he's gone.
"Patrick," someone calls, and the boy, who I now know as Patrick stands up. He looks at me one last time, and I sigh, watching him go into the Principal's office.