Drum Roll, Please

Chapter 1: Survivor's Guilt

Summer only needed one glance into her classroom to know that she was doomed. It felt as if every eye in the vicinity was staring into her soul as the principal walked her to the front of the class, where her teacher was getting up from his desk, a bright smile equipped.

"This is your new exchange student." The principal explained. "There was a delay in the paperwork, sorry for the interruption."

"No need, I'm always happy to have another brilliant young mind in my class." Her teacher looked down at her. "My name is Mr. Burrton."

"Hello, Mr. Burrton." Summer mumbled shyly.

"Here is her paperwork." The principal handed over a thin folder with her birth name printed on the front. A wave of anxiety washed over her and Summer immediately regretted not introducing herself.

Maybe she should introduce herself now, before he could read it and ask. But there was no prior sentence to make the statement easy, of course, perhaps he'd ask her how to pronounce it-or maybe he was one of those teachers who insisted on calling her by her real name.

Oh, what a horror that would be. She could already imagine the stifled laughs and jeers of her classmates; her name being whispered throughout the halls. The new school laughingstock, three schools in a row.

Summer's race turned red, completely oblivious to Mr. Burrton asking her a question until the class really did erupt in laughter. Summer blinked a few times and looked around in panic.

"Uh-um-what?"

He smiled encouragingly. "I asked, how do you pronounce your name?"

She paled. Oh no. There it was. She didn't prevent it, so now everything depends on how she answers. This is her first impression, and she's already blotched it up. Now everything must be perfect and make up for previous damages.

Good vocabulary? How do you have good vocabulary while telling someone your name? The name that looks nothing like the one on the paper. The one on the paper, that, if revealed, will be absolutely horrible for her.

How was she going to avoid substitutes? She'd need to come up with a plan for them, or else-

Mr. Burrton cleared his throat and sent a small glare toward his giggling students. Summer's head shot up, looking from him, to the class, and then back again, as if she was a meercat.

"My name," she blurted out, "my name is Summer. Just Summer."

"Well, then, Summer, where did you move from?" He asked.

Oh great, another question.

"I lived most previously in Nebraska." Summer answered swiftly.

He smiled. "What brings your family to Nevada?"

Summer panicked again. Oh crap, what does she say now?

Oh, my guardians moved me to Nevada because I accidentally started a riot that killed four people.

Nope. Definitely not that one.

"I..." Summer stared at him. "I like the... lottery?"

Mr. Burrton's smile faltered and he tilted his head in confusion. "You... Okay, then. Why don't we find you a seat?"

He showed her to an empty desk, not in the back of the class, but next to the window at least. She sat down quickly, her body tense, sensing all the stares she was getting.

"Now, let's resume the lecture." Mr. Burrton told everyone as he took a position in the front of the class. "I am sure you are all excited for our essay next week."