Just Us Girls

First Period

    Homeroom always takes too long to be over. Sitting at the desk waiting for the rest of the students to walk, the teacher talks with the other teachers. The room fills with noise as the last student enters before the bell at 8:30.
    "Good Morning, students; everyone takes a seat as I call your name," stated Ms. Hatcher. She walked to the head of the class and started to call each student's name alphabetically; as she called each student, that student got up and left the room for the first period.
   "Jacob Santos," she called.
   "Here," he says, then leaves for Ms. Gilman's class. Marine Science. My last name Is O, so I'm towards the end. All my classes drag except for my Portuguese class. I sit next to Iris Jones. My friend. The time doesn't drag from that period and on. Unfortunately, that's not till the 4th period, right after lunch at 11:45. She doesn't care what people think. She goes for it; I admire her for that. She says what she thinks, and people constantly bash her for it. They don't know her as I do. She got some spunk to her. Getting lost in my thoughts, I hear someone calling my name.
    "Elena Pinto...Elena, you're free to go," Gilman said, getting my attention. Looking at her, I realized what she had said. Nodding, I pick up my backpack heading for the first period, Math. The school has four floors. The fifth and sixth grades were on the first floor; Seventh and eighth grades were on the second. Ninth and Tenth were on the third, and eleven and twelve were on the four. Each floor is in the shape of a horseshoe. The floors were worn-out wood. No longer had the gloss from the polishing and shine. Stains from previous students still linger on the floorboards, remaining there forever. Math class was down the hall. I walked through the musky tan walls and took a right—the first door on the left. Mr. Brown was outside the door greeting my classmates while handing them a packet.
    "When you are seated, students look through the packet and do what you can. Once everyone is inside, you'll have 15 minutes to do as much as before going into groups and working on them". Passing the paper to me, I make my way through the long black tables in the classroom—three on the left, three on the right. I always sit close to the back, away from everyone. The walls up front were whiteboards; it was our objective for the day. Every day, it's a different objective that Mr. Brown wants us to learn. My chair was ice cold, along with the table. Placing my backpack aside, I take out what I need and start the packet. I'm great at math; Calculus isn't complex, though the formulas are there.
     The packet consists of Linear Least quake, the maximum area of the rectangles in a triangle, Derivative to find quadratic functions, ext. The packet is at least ten pages long and double-sided. Trying to start on the packet, I heard a familiar voice that threw chills down my spine. Without looking up, I already knew who it was. Caroline Brunet her voice volume can make even dogs' ears bleed. Her voice isn't very high-pitched, but you never hear how loud she is. She sits in the middle on the right, next to the window. I don't like her one bit. For starters, she thinks she is better than people. She doesn't need to be competent to know she has more to offer than others. The only thing she shows is her body. Last year she took a picture of herself on the floor topless with the goosebumps book covering her breast. The book didn't even cover it all. You could see the curves of her breast and half of her nipples, shot from lips down. She posted it on Instagram for everyone to see. The caption was, "This is what the body is supposed to look like, boys." Looking up from my packet, she sits on her legs while talking to the boys. She had her hair in pigtails. The right side was blonde, and the left was black. It dyed right down the middle. Her hair was naturally wavy, and she hadn't washed her hair in a few days. Her scalp still had gel flakes from three days ago when she slicked it back. She wore the regular school uniform, a dark blue shirt and tan pants. On the left side of her chest, "Prescott Arizona high school College prep." Her shoes were worn-out vans, Sharpies, and pen ink writing on her shoes. When she is bored in class, she likes to doodle on the. Which is all the time; surprised there's still room on her shoe for her doodles. The door on the left of me shuts closes. Mr. Brown sat at his desk as we all worked on the packet. Two classes left until lunch. The bell rang at 9:15. Packing everything up and was about to exit the room when Mr. Brown spoke.
   "Whatever you didn't Finnish on the packet, finish it for homework tonight. We'll go over it together. A chorus of groans erupted afterward. Caroline and I bumped into each other. She looked at me disguised. Like she smelt sour trash.
       "Caroline!!"
She sees her best friend, Fae Lloyd, Stepping on her tippy toes. She pushes through the herd of students and jumps into a hug. She turned to look around threw the horde of students to see who called her name. Beside them were Ave Pimental, Erica Leandra, and Iris Jones.