To Love A Beast

The New Girl

He's not going to make it. I thought.

It had been too long already. There was only two minutes to go until the bell went, signalling the start of class, and Isaac had yet to come back from his locker. I looked up from my desk at the back of the room and locked eyes with Fletcher sitting next to me. He nodded his head in agreement, already in tune to what I was thinking. "He's a goner." He clarified with a smirk.

One of the perks of growing up with my best friends: instant mind reading powers. We could tell exactly what the other was thinking by the slightest movement or change in facial expressions. It worked wonders against our parents when trying to get out of trouble. With a sigh, I faced the board again, hoping Isaac had a good excuse for why he was late this time.

The classroom set-up was pretty standard. Twenty wooden desks all lined up neatly in rows faced Mr Jameson's desk, which was piled high with ungraded papers. The desk matched its owner perfectly: untidy in appearance and a little rough around the edges. The room wouldn't be like this for long though. By the end of the day the desks would be scattered around, some not even facing in the right direction. Crumpled papers would be lying about the room; abandoned work tossed across the floor by stampeding feet, trying their best to escape the class quickly so they can go home. I don't envy the poor chap who would have to clean up that  inevitable disaster zone.

Mr Jameson, who was sat at his desk, began to rise from his chair. I slumped a little lower in my seat, the headache from earlier developing into a dull throb at the back of my skull. I was so not looking forward to this, but I sucked it up. After all, there was nothing I could do about it short of leaving the classroom, but my sad goodie-goodie side wouldn't let me do that.  
"Alright class, settle down. First-"
There was a sudden knock on the door, interrupting Mr Jameson's speech. I trained my eyes towards the sound, expecting to see Isaac with a sheepish grin on his face, about to spill out this dramatic story, claiming the reason he was late was because he had to bravely fight off six thugs in the parking lot to save some poor damsel in distress.

It wouldn't be the first time that had happened.

However, as the door slowly creeped open, a girl's head popped through the gap. I bit the inside of my cheek in confusion. I'd never seen her around before, I was positive. It was a small school; everyone knew everyone around here.

"Mr Jameson?" She inquired, before pulling the rest of her body through the doorway. I took this opportunity to take a good look at the girl. She stood around 5"6, the same height as me, her skin clearly bronzed from the sun and not her natural colour. She had a petite nose, which curved up slightly towards the end, full lips and dressed casually in dark blue jeans and a white strappy top which flowed out at the hips. What struck me was her hair. It was a very startling shade of red. And not the natural kind either. No, this was a slap-you-in-the-face kind of red that could only be found inside a product bottle. It fell in soft ruby ringlets to just below her shoulder blades, bouncing up and down happily with every movement New girl made.

Mr Jameson didn't seem to be as confused as the rest of the class was. He clearly expected New girl to make an appearance as he smiled warmly at her and said "Ah yes, do come in. You must be my new student, Danielle, correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Well, welcome to English literature, where reading and analysing books are the key to life! I think you'll agree, that there are so many books which are the foundations of English literature, and in this class we will delve deep, analysing every detail. I will ask nothing more of my students than to participate in lessons and do the reading assigned. And remember, there is no greater friend than a good book!"