the name of the game - e.j caswell

02

As Annalise left the gym alongside Nini and Kourtney, she felt her nerves slowly ease, the warmth of their friendliness offering a glimmer of hope for her fresh start. However, her calm was short-lived as a voice called her name. "Ms. Wright! I'd like to speak to you before you head to your next class!" Principal Gutierrez's voice rang out, cutting through the din of the bustling hallway. Annalise froze, a gasp escaping her lips before she turned toward the older man, who gestured for her to follow him. The walk to his office was short but felt interminable, her pulse quickening with each step as she worried over what he might say. Inside, the office was neat and professional, the walls adorned with plaques, certificates, and photographs of smiling students. Annalise sat stiffly in the chair opposite his desk, fidgeting with the small pendant on her necklace—a habit that betrayed her unease. 

"Now, as you know, I'll need to request your transcript from North High," Principal Gutierrez began, his tone kind but firm. "From what your old principal told me, you were president of the drama and choir club?" Annalise nodded, her lips pressed together as she avoided his gaze. "Impressive," he continued, shuffling a stack of papers. "I've placed you in classes that align with your background, but adjustments may be needed once your transcript arrives. Is that alright?" She nodded again, her voice failing her. His smile was reassuring as he stood, extending a hand. "Your first class is AP Physics, four doors down. I've also arranged for someone to help you find your way around after lunch. I hope you have a great first day." Grateful, Annalise accepted the red folder he handed her and murmured her thanks before hurrying out, clutching the folder tightly like a lifeline.

The hallway felt impossibly long as Annalise walked toward her first class, her heart pounding in her chest. Each step brought her closer to the unknown, her thoughts swirling with both anticipation and dread. When she reached the classroom door, she hesitated, her knuckles brushing against the cold wood before she knocked softly. The door swung open, and the teacher greeted her with a quick, businesslike nod. "Hi, uh—I'm Annalise Wright, the transfer student," she introduced herself, her voice trembling slightly. 

The teacher barely glanced up, waving her in with a brisk, "Go have a seat," her tone clipped and impersonal. Annalise swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, and stepped into the room. The sound of the door clicking shut behind her felt deafening, drawing the attention of every student in the room. As dozens of curious eyes turned toward her, Annalise's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her heart pounding in her chest. She tightened her grip on the strap of her bag, her fingers trembling slightly, and avoided making eye contact with anyone. With her head bowed, she scanned the room quickly, spotting an empty table at the back. 

Sliding into the seat, she exhaled a shaky breath and set her bag down beside her, grateful to have escaped the front of the room. She fixed her gaze on the desk in front of her, the cool, scratched surface suddenly fascinating as she willed herself not to look up. The murmurs and whispers from her classmates gradually faded as the teacher resumed the lecture, but Annalise's discomfort lingered, her thoughts racing. She opened her notebook, pretending to take notes, but the words on the board blurred together as her mind wandered. Instead of focusing on the lesson, she found herself consumed by the challenges of her first day. Was she making the right choice to transfer here? Could she truly leave her past behind, or was it only a matter of time before it caught up with her? The questions swirled relentlessly, tightening the knot of anxiety in her chest.

As the minutes dragged on, Annalise felt the lecture stretch into eternity. The teacher's voice, monotone and steady, became a background hum, unintelligible as her thoughts grew louder. Every so often, she dared to glance at the clock on the wall, willing the hands to move faster. The ticking seemed to mock her, each second a reminder of how much time remained in this unfamiliar environment. She shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs, the hard chair beneath her adding to her discomfort. Occasionally, she caught glimpses of her classmates from the corner of her eye—some scribbling notes diligently, others casting bored glances toward the window—but she avoided meeting anyone's gaze. The unfamiliarity of it all felt suffocating, as if the room itself was closing in around her.