The First Fall Of Snow

a distraction in class

The wake-up bell rang out, a hollow chime. Stone House was freezing in the morning. I took a minute to adjust to my new place. I slowly got out of bed and took some clothes out of my trunk-there was only one dresser for all of us in the dorm, so that necessitated living out of suitcases. 

I put on the Heartwood uniform, with warm leggings under my skirt and Mary Jane heels. I checked my backpack to make sure I had everything-Laptop, planners, notebooks, a handful of mechanical pens, my smartphone. I went into the bathroom and jostled for space with the three other girls. I finally got my turn in front of the mirror. I brushed my hair and put light makeup on-pink lip gloss, brightening concealer. Stella saw me. 

"You look pretty," she said. "That color suits you."

"It 'suits' me?" I asked, grinning. 

Stella turned pink embarrassedly. "My dad's English. I guess it just slips out sometimes!"

 I  chuckled.  We grabbed our bags and hurried downstairs, comparing schedules at the the front door. The cold September sun shone through the windows onto her hair, making it look almost silver. Stella read hers first. 

"I have English, Theater Production, Costume Design-that seems awesome, I can't wait for that-science, lunch. Then afternoon-Math, history, dance for my PE." 

I nodded, listening as I checked my own. 

"I also have English first! Cool! Then Biology 2,  Political Science," 

"--that's not for our grade," Stella interjected. 

"I'm taking it as an elective. I got in based on my experience." Stella blinked at me in surprise. 

"Wow." 

"Thanks," I said, smirking. I resumed listing my schedule. 

"Political Science, International Literature. Lunch, Math 3, AP Euro History, PE." 

I looked up to see Stella's jaw practically on the floor. 

"What?" I laughed. This was my usual class load. So what?

"You're a genius," Stella said, awestruck.

"Naw..."

"Yes."

"Shut up."

We walked out the door to our English class, consulting the map every block. Our dorm was all the way down the road through campus. Heartwood was the size of a college campus, with a quad, a STEM building, an arts building, a library, and a dining hall. Our English room was in the Barrett-Browning Library, one of many in the red-brick maze.

We laughed and talked on the way, but I was nervous. It was all static up there. I mean--was Stella flirting with me? Did she just flirt with everyone? And there was no way she'd actually think I was a genius. And she was just so COOL, with her Avril Lavigne-styled school uniform and her activism, her art, her...what was even the word for it? I couldn't describe what it was about her. But god, it was magnetic. 

In class, I was lucky enough to sit behind her so that I could stare without her noticing. I knew it was pathetic. I didn't care. I tried my best to listen to the teacher, Mrs. Reynolds, who was giving a boring lecture on the syllabus.  I hoped some of it would be more challenging than my junior high classes. I'd already read a few classics on my own, mostly Fiztgerald. I thought of his work as Gossip Girl-vibes in the 1920s. 

But when the teacher opened it up for suggestions, I had my literary genius dreams shattered. There was this other girl, with long, stick-straight maroon hair and wireframe glasses. I recognized her, but quickly put my head down. I didn't want her to recognize me. She started talking about Richard Brautigan, a 1970s poet, specifically. I was glad she couldn't see my expression. I didn't know whether I was jealous or impressed.