Acquainted ⇒ Brett Talbot

II. Devenford Prep

I was right about the whole snobby Porsche driving prediction.

As soon as I pull up in my white Jeep, I'm astounded at how much the cars around me are worth. You'd think that they'd opt to choose a car that stands out, but the cars around me are like a reading of a list of European luxury cars. They all look the same to me, save some are black and others white. Occasionally, a sports car is decked out in a daring orange or blue that stands out, but for the most part it's sleek and monochromatic.

I park my car as close as I can and take time opening the door so that I don't accidentally scratch the Mercedes next to me. I wind my way through the cars until I find myself before the looming gates of Devenford Prep.

I walk through the open gate and up the stairs, my legs burning by the end of it. Turns out holing yourself up in a spell of grief isn't the best for your fitness.

I follow the directions to the office where a benevolent looking woman sits behind the front desk. The woman has auburn hair cut into a bob and eyes filled with welcoming warmth. I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe Devenford Prep isn't as hostile as I first thought.

"Um, hi," I say, tugging on my bag strap nervously. "I'm new here."

She smiles. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Lenore Harrington," I reply. I feel the tight anxiety feeling in my gut receding. I've always had an immense nervousness surrounding meeting new people and public speaking. Perhaps this new town and school will change me for the better.

She studies her computer screen for a few seconds before turning back to me. "I'll go get your timetable and lock," she says and disappears behind a door that I assume leads to some sort of storage or office space.

She comes back through the door again, a lock and sheet of paper clutched in her hand. She hands the two objects to me and says, "Looks like you have chemistry first. Room twenty one is on level two, by the way."

I thank her and begin my trek to chemistry. I'm on the second level and following the classroom numbers, but to no avail. Whoever planned where these classes are must've been blind. Room 18 is right next to Room 7. I begin to give up as I realise that I've been past Room 20 three times.

I'm about to try and find my way back down to my locker when someone pipes up behind me. "Lost?"

The boy talking looks only about fourteen with a small face and big eyes. He's lanky and about the same height as me. "Uh, yeah, actually," I say. "I'm new here."

"Lucky you," he says, sidling up beside me. He begins walking and I clamber after him. He has extraordinarily long strides for someone of his height. "Everyone here is rather...rancorous, if you know what I mean."

"Not many people would know what you mean by rancorous," I say. "But you're in luck. I once read the entire dictionary out of boredom."

"And you're officially now my new best friend," he declares with a grin. "I'm Wesley, by the way. Wesley Maddox."

"Lenore Harrington," I introduce myself. He opens his mouth to speak but I cut him off. "And before you ask, yes, I'm named after that dead chick in The Raven."

"I take it your parents are Edgar Allan Poe fans. I hope you don't mind if I come over to your house just to discuss poetry with your parents."

I wince. "My parents - they, uh, they died a couple of months back. Hence why I'm here with my aunt." I shrug. "Sorry about that. Not really a light conversation topic."

Wesley shoves his hands into his pockets. "I'm so sorry about that," he says in a low voice. His voice raises to normal volume again. "So which class are you in?"