Some girls do

Chapter 4: Kazuha

I'd like to say the rest of the morning went better, that after forgetting my book bag and almost getting hit by a car, it was all smooth sailing. But it wasn't. The hall monitor gave me the third degree for being late and then sent me to the office, seemingly not convinced that I was a new student, because "new students don't start at the end of the year." Which, fair, but I am, and I did.

After that was straightened out, I went to my locker, where the combination definitely did not work, and by then homeroom was over and first period had started. I think the hall monitor felt more pity than annoyance as she walked me back to the office, where the principal said, "Miss us already?" One late pass and new combination later, I was on my way. Sort of.

Because I was also late to third period. Silly me, I thought all the 200 rooms would be on the second floor, but it turns out that room 215 is actually in the new wing of the first floor. And why not?

Miraculously, I make it to my fourth-period class, Government-the last before lunch-early. The teacher introduces herself as Mrs. Bae, hands me a textbook, and tells me to sit anywhere. Which is when I realize the desks are lined up in a semicircle around the room instead of in rows, like all the rooms had been at my old school. Clearly, order means nothing here.

"You don't have assigned seats?" I ask, looking around as all the students filter in.

"No, Ms. Nakamura, not in my classroom. You're free to pick any desk."

I scan the room, selecting a seat to the right and toward the back, one with a good view of the teacher and everyone else. Not that there's much choice; with the way things are set up, everyone is visible at all times. Clever. It's going to be next to impossible to text or zone out without her seeing it.

Wonyoung comes in, giving me an encouraging smile as she walks a few steps into the room. She takes an empty seat next to someone I can only assume is her friend by the way they instantly start chatting. It's fine. Or it will be, after school, when I can meet the team, which will hopefully be more accepting than my old team-they dropped me like a hot potato after I came out. Or maybe it was after I called the coach a misogynistic homophobe. Either way.

I duck my head and flip through the book, scanning the pages and wishing I could be anywhere but here, until someone kicks my chair. I look up and find myself face-to-face with the girl from the car. Her hair cascading back down around her face, which I have absolutely been staring at for too long.

She clears her throat. "You're in my seat," she says, not exactly rudely, more like extremely firmly . . . with no room for discussion.

"I thought there weren't assigned seats," I say, even though my instinct is to grab my stuff and run. But I'm done backing down. This is the new me.

She grits her teeth. "It's implied."

"How?"

"Look, I appreciate you're new and all, but this is my seat and has been since September, so if you could go run over to someone else's-"

"Funny you should say 'run over.'" I smile. "That's kind of your thing, right? Running things over?"

I swear to god her nostrils flare. It would be cute, if she weren't so damn annoying. Scratch that, it's definitely still cute, but I'm trying to ignore it. Unless angry nostril flaring counts as flirting, in which case-

"You almost hit my car, not the other way around."

"Is there a problem, ladies?" Mrs. Bae asks, turning from the whiteboard and raising an eyebrow.

I open my mouth to say yes, there is a problem, a very big problem, actually, not the least of which is my level of attraction to this person, who is clearly the queen of all assholes ever, but I'm cut off by another voice across the room.