The Key

Chapter 2

When I walk in the classroom, everything is silent. I look around for a familiar face, but see none. Then I notice the nerdy boy in the back of the class, with his wide-rimmed glasses and Star-Trek t-shirt, hunched over at his desk, eyes glued to some sort of science-fiction novel.

Caleb.

Caleb is Cali’s twin brother. They’re identical in appearance, but not personality. He’s shy and quiet, and she’s talkative and loud. She doesn’t know the first thing about Star Wars, but science-fiction is his life. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that they’re even related, let alone twins. They’re complete opposites.

I cross the room toward an empty seat next to Caleb. I can feel every eye staring at the last girl in the room, who also happens to be the new girl. I sit down, avoiding eye contact with anyone, and quietly set my binder on the corner of the desk. Caleb looks up for half a second before returning his eyes to his book.

I look around the room. It seems like everyone knows something I don’t. Every person in the room is watching the teacher, a partially bald man with a gray moustache, who’s seemingly obliviously sitting at his desk reading something on his computer. I discreetly look at the paper Cali gave me with the corner of my eye. I find the words “first period,” and to the right of that, I read, “Mr. Maine.” I look around again. This time, I notice the fear in everyone’s eyes. I wonder what’s going on as I slip the paper back into my binder.

Eventually, Mr. Maine stands up and walks toward my desk. I hold my breath, and the other students watch, terrified. “So, you had something better to do than show up to my class on time, did you?”

“Um, no sir,” I say hesitantly. I gather myself and say, “I’m sorry. I fell in the hall, and I—“

Mr. Maine interrupts me. “I don’t care. No one is late for my class unless they have a doctor’s excuse. Do you have a doctor’s excuse?” he asks.

I take a deep breath. “No sir.”

“I didn’t think so.” He walks back to his desk and pulls a small slip of paper out of a filing cabinet near his desk. “What’s your name, young lady?” says Mr. Maine.

“Me?” I ask.

“No, the other girl who was late for class on the first day of school,” he said, sarcastically.

I could feel my cheeks turning red as I say, “Bailey.”

Sounding frustrated with me, he says, “Last name?”

“Oh. Morgan,” I say, humiliated.

I look around, and for the second time today, every eye is on me. I stare at the surface of my desk, too embarrassed to look anyone in the eye.

Mr. Maine is silent for the next few minutes, writing on the slip of paper, then stands up and walks to the front of the room. He takes a piece of chalk from a box on his desk and writes “Mr. Maine” on the chalkboard. “I’m Mr. Maine, and I suppose you’re my homeroom class?”

No one says a word.

“Well, I guess nobody knows. Very well.” Mr. Maine walks back over to his desk and picks up a stack of paper. He straightens it vertically and horizontally on a tall, lanky boy’s desk before throwing them on a red-haired girl’s desk. She stares at it for awhile, before Mr. Maine looks at her and asks, “Well?”

“What?” the girl asks, with terrified eyes.

“Pass them out to the class,” he says, mimicking her tone.

Her cheeks turn red as she stands up and hands the boy sitting next to her a paper.

When the girl sits back down after handing the extras to Mr. Maine, a boy in the front row raises his hand.

“Yes?” asks Mr. Maine.

“Um, I don’t have a paper…” says the boy.

Silently, Mr. Maine crosses the front of the room to the red-haired girl’s desk. “So, you can’t count to one?” he asks.

With a pale face, she says, “I’m sorry, Mr. Maine.” But he just ignores her.

Everyone looks at the girl, and she looks back at us with wide, scared eyes.

Mr. Maine leisurely walks back to his desk and picks up one of the extra papers. He sets it on the boy’s desk with a loud thump of his hand on the surface, and looks at the boy.

“Thank you, Mr. Maine,” says the boy.

Mr. Maine looks up, not even acknowledging the boy’s words, and walks back to the front of the classroom. “On this piece of paper, write down everything you think of when you hear the word, ‘history.’ Find a partner and brainstorm.” He walks back to his desk and sits down.

Everyone immediately stands up and rushes to their friends. Everyone clearly knows each other from elementary school, and I’m just the new girl. I look around, hoping to find someone gesturing for me to join them, but all I see are pairs of people jotting down events in history.

Mr. Maine walks over to my desk. “So, you don’t have any friends, do you?” he asks with a smirk.

“Well, I just moved here from California, and…” I trail off, not knowing what to say other than the fact that I have no friends.

Clearly not caring, he says, “Find a group, Miss Morgan.”

I stand up, tightly gripping my pencil in one hand and holding my paper in the other. I look around as I walk towards a boy and a girl, who somehow remind me of Annie and Mason. They look up from their papers when they see me coming, and smile at me.

The boy’s reddish hair sticks up everywhere, and his face is covered in freckles. His eyes are a deep shade of blue. The girl’s long blonde hair falls on her shoulders, and her hazel eyes are framed by long eyelashes. Other than that, they look a lot alike. Both of their faces are covered in freckles. They both have pale skin.

I smile back, and ask, “Can I join your group?”

For me, it’s a struggle to be friendly. I grew up with two best friends, and I never really attempted to make any more. I was fine spending all my time with Annie and Mason, but they’re hundreds of miles away from me now. It’s going to be a challenge for me to make some new friends.

“Sure!” says the girl. “I’m Tara, and this is Josh.” She points to the boy, and he smiles and waves at me.

“Hey,” I say. “I’m Bailey.”

“Well sit down, Bailey!” says Josh with a smile. I pull over a chair and sit down next to them.

“So what do you think of when you hear the word history? We already have ‘Renaissance’ and ‘Holocaust’. Got anything else?” asks Tara.

I think for a second. “What about World War I and World War II?”

“That’s good, I didn’t think about the wars,” says Josh. He jots that down on the piece of paper, and says, “Anything else?”

Tara and I shake our heads.

“Okay then, I guess we’re done,” says Josh. He sits back in his chair with a sigh of relief and asks, “So Bailey, what elementary school did you go to?”

“Actually, I just moved here,” I tell him.

“Oh, cool!” says Tara. “Where did you live before?”

“California.” I say.

“Oh my gosh, that’s so cool!” says Tara, excitedly. “Is it nice there? I’ve always wanted to go to California.”

I smile as the realization that I just made two friends floods over me.