FORCE OF GRAVITY

―two

I've made it to school.

Correction; I've made it to school 10 minutes late.

Mental note: it takes 25 minutes to get to and from location A to location B.

Maybe we'll advance to a location C while we're at it. Wishful thinking.

Well, from what I know I should've been in form 10 minutes ago, form lasts for about a half hour which means I have 20 minutes left. And I'm going to be proactive with my time and use it to tour myself around the school.

And I can't do that without a map — to the office I go.

It wasn't a far walk, about 100 steps or so, but my nervousness is making me heave and I need to rest against the wall to re-gain my composure.

Walking up to the front desk, a hundred different conversations and scenarios are prowling through my head and it's not until I'm standing right in front of the receptionist that I realise I have no idea how to start a conversation.

I wouldn't say I'm shy — actually, that's exactly what I am — but I prefer the word reserved. Makes me sound more mysterious instead of awkward.

The receptionist looks like a sweet lady with frizzy, blonde curls that shape the front of her face nicely. Alongside a pair of pink, glittery, rectangular framed glasses that lazily sit on the bridge of her nose and her lips are also done a similar shade — I'm assuming to match.

Her face is currently buried in a tray of papers that I notice are hundreds of invoices directed to the Principal.

I've been standing here for a good 43, now 44, seconds before I realise that it's rude to stare up close and personal. It's okay to do it from a distance — observing is a nicer way to put it.

"Excuse me." My voice comes out timid and shaky. She still hasn't seen me. Maybe if I clear my throat? Now it just sounds like I've swallowed something the wrong way. But it worked.

"Oh, hi! Sorry, didn't see you there. I'm absolutely swamped with pages and pages of pointless garbage and... well, things." She rushes out, looking up at me from her swivel chair, before letting out a deep breath.

I'm stuck staring, again. Not a single one of the words she uttered out actually stuck in my head.

"What can I do for ya?" She asks, noticing my hesitance.

I take notice of the small clock hanging on the wall behind her, it's 08:43AM.

I have this ugly habit of having to know the time, all the time. I fear I'd lose track of absolutely everything if I go too long without knowing what time of the day it is. The longest I've gone without checking the time was 6 hours — the most stressful 6 hours of my life.

Control freak? No. Organised, independent and high-achieving woman? Probably.

"Hi. I'm new and— well, I..." This is going great. "I'm Julia Hughes, and I need my schedule." That sounded way too formal. "Oh! And I need a map." I haven't blinked once. "Of the... school. Of course." Form will be over by the time I've got what I needed.

"Alright! Julia Hughes." She says, dragging out my name as she types it into the computer. Her nails make a really satisfying clicking sound, they're long, sparkly pink — obviously — and have little cherries cemented into the design.

The printer behind her starts mechanically whirring. Next to it is a calendar, hung up on the wall, with love hearts every shade of pink dotted around.

This lovely ladies favourite holiday has to be Valentines. I'm a bit of a romantic myself — said literally no one ever.