CSI Texas

Chapter Eleven

Victoria parked the car in a shaded corner of the school lot, the early morning sun casting soft rays across the dashboard. She turned off the engine and took a steadying breath, letting her eyes linger for a moment on the modern brick building ahead. Wide windows reflected the sky, and a steady stream of students filtered through the main entrance like a slow-moving current.
Beside her, Samantha sat rigidly in the passenger seat, nervously twisting a strand of hair around her finger — an old habit that Victoria had come to recognize as a silent signal of unease. Her backpack, adorned with a single enamel pin shaped like a sunflower, rested in her lap like a shield.
“Ready?” Victoria asked, her voice warm, carefully composed to mask her own nerves. She reached over, gently wrapping her fingers around Samantha’s hand, grounding them both.
Samantha nodded, managing a brave smile that wavered slightly at the corners. “Ready,” she whispered, though the quiver in her voice gave her away.
Victoria gave her hand a final squeeze before releasing it. “You’ve got this.”
They stepped out into the morning light, the breeze tugging gently at their clothes. Samantha wore a casual but neat outfit: a navy hoodie layered over a striped T-shirt and a pair of dark jeans, her sneakers clean and laced tight. Victoria, in a smart cream blouse tucked into high-waisted slacks and low-heeled ankle boots, exuded calm competence as they made their way toward the entrance.

The school grounds were already alive with motion. A yellow school bus pulled to a smooth stop at the curb, exhaling a hiss of air brakes. Children spilled out in a cheerful rush, their laughter and chatter ringing through the crisp morning air. Bright backpacks bounced with each step as students merged into the growing crowd. Somewhere nearby, a bell chimed the quarter hour.

Samantha instinctively edged closer to her mother, her eyes wide as she took it all in.
Waiting just outside the main entrance was a woman in her fifties, dressed in a tailored blazer and skirt, her salt-and-pepper hair pulled back into a low, tidy bun. She stood with the quiet authority of someone who had long since learned the fine balance between warmth and discipline.
“Good morning,” the woman greeted, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. “I’m Heather King, the school principal. This must be Samantha — and you must be her mother, Victoria.”
Victoria shook her hand with a polite nod. “Yes, that’s right. It’s a pleasure.”
Samantha lowered her gaze slightly, offering a soft, “Good morning,” barely audible over the murmur of students filing in around them.
Principal King smiled gently, her voice dipped with understanding. “Come in, both of you. Let’s get the paperwork sorted, and then one of our students can show you around the school.”
The doors opened with a soft whoosh of air, revealing a bright, airy corridor with high ceilings and white tiles that shone under the light. The smell of fresh paint mingled with the scent of floor polish and warm paper. The walls were bursting with life — lined with colorful student artwork, hand-painted posters for upcoming events, and photographs from past class trips. Laughter echoed from a nearby hallway, mingling with the squeak of sneakers and the metallic clang of lockers closing.
Samantha’s eyes darted everywhere, trying to absorb it all. Her pace slowed as she passed a display case filled with neatly arranged trophies, each one gleaming under the lights.
“Wow, this is so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice small but filled with wonder. Her nervous fidgeting eased as she took in the vibrant atmosphere, her fingers falling away from the strand of hair she’d been twisting.
Principal King followed her gaze and smiled. “Those are from our swimming competitions. We’ve had a strong team for years now. I hear you swim, too?”
Samantha nodded, her smile shy but real. “I do. Maybe I could try it out.”
“I think you’ll fit in just fine,” the principal replied kindly, leading them down a smaller corridor that ended at a wooden door with a nameplate: Principal Heather King.
Inside, the office felt less formal than expected. A patterned rug warmed the tile floor, and a small potted plant sat on a windowsill, soaking in the sun. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with colorful binders, educational books, and even a few novels. Behind the wide desk was a steaming mug that smelled faintly of cinnamon tea.
“Please, sit,” she gestured to a pair of plush chairs across from her desk.
Samantha sank into one of them, her backpack still in her lap, while Victoria crossed one leg over the other, pulling a notepad from her purse just in case.
Principal King shuffled through a folder of documents, flipping to the necessary forms. She glanced up with a thoughtful expression. “I see you’ve done very well in your previous school, Samantha. What are you most passionate about?”
Samantha hesitated for a breath, but then her voice grew steadier. “I want to design — things like clothes, furniture, maybe spaces. I swim, and I play the piano. I like volleyball too.”
The principal’s eyes twinkled with interest. “That’s a wonderful combination of creative and athletic. I think you’ll find quite a few outlets here.”
Victoria, feeling the conversation was going well, leaned forward slightly. “We’d like to know what she needs for a normal day — and if she can take the bus to and from school. We live just a few miles away.”
Principal King nodded, reaching for a notepad. “Yes, absolutely. Let’s go over the basics. Samantha, you’ll need a pencil case with pens and notebooks to take notes. Your textbooks will be issued to you at school. You’ll have your own locker—I’ll give you the number and access code before you leave. That code is shared only with me.” Samantha nodded attentively. “You can keep items like lunch boxes, extra books, or sports gear in your locker. Homework should be completed daily, of course. No uniforms are required, but we ask students to dress appropriately — comfortable, everyday clothes are fine. Just nothing too flashy or distracting.” She gave Samantha a warm but firm look before continuing. “Phones and watches are permitted, but they must be turned off and stored in lockers during class hours. No makeup, false nails, or piercings that aren’t standard earrings.”
“Understood,” Victoria said with a grateful nod.
“For lunch, you may bring your own or purchase a meal in the canteen — our menu is posted weekly. You’ll receive your lesson plan shortly. Swimming is held Thursdays after school. Music classes are Tuesdays, and design courses are Fridays. Optional sports activities run Mondays and Wednesdays. Everything is included in your enrollment.”
“And the bus?” Victoria asked.
Principal King pointed to a small map on her desk. “Bus number 422 runs through your neighborhood and stops directly in front of the school each morning and afternoon. It’s punctual and safe.”
Samantha looked to her mother for reassurance, her expression softening as her excitement began to take root.
Victoria smiled and squeezed her hand. “Sounds perfect.”
“I think that covers everything,” Samantha said, her voice more confident now, her smile blooming like a flower in the sun.
Principal King stood and extended her hand again. “Welcome to our school, Samantha. We’re very glad to have you.”
Samantha shook it this time, her grip still small but no longer hesitant.
As they left the office, Victoria glanced at her daughter — her stride a little surer, her eyes still taking in every detail around her — and felt a quiet pride rise in her chest.