✓ DYING MOURNINGS, original

two : the new school

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𝐓𝐖𝐎 : 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋

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After only a little difficulty, I found the office.

The halls had been so crowded and loud, it was like I had gotten turned around completely when searching. I considered asking someone for help but that sparked a bead of panic in my chest, I didn't want to paint myself as the new kid. I just wanted to slip in as if I'd been here all along.

The woman behind the front desk smiled warmly at me as I approached, giving her my name. She searched through her papers before pulling out a sheet and handing it to me with her warm smile still plastered to her face as if it were a mask she was forced to wear.

But weren't we all wearing masks here? Hiding our true selves in order to fit in? To preserve our images?

The woman pointed to the principal's office and said, "He'll be just a moment."

I nodded, taking a seat in one of the old chairs by the wall. The material was peeling and scratched at my palms as I sat and waited. I took the time to read over my schedule, which wasn't as terrible as I thought it was going to be. I had French, which my mom was going to be happy about, and I had my standard English course, biology, contemporary math, and a few others to get me enough credits for graduation.

It wasn't long until the door to the principal's office opened, a boy walking out with a scowl.

Dear god, I thought to myself. The people here really are disgustingly pretty.

He had a fluffy head of black hair and he met my eyes as he left, startling blue searing through me. I felt my blood run hot, a blush creeping up my neck. His brows furrowed, like he might've recognized me, and then he whipped his head forward and left the office with an aggressive push of the door.

I watched it slam shut and it was hard to pull my head from his direction but the principal's voice jolted me from my seat. I stood, gathering my things and following the older man into his office where he rounded his large desk and sat down with a content sigh, as if he hadn't had to deal with the scowling blue eyed boy moments before.

"You must be miss Lake," the principal said, motioning for me to take one of the two seats before him. I dropped down, noticing the cushion of the seat was slippery against my jeans. The red leather stood out against his rather dull room, the only true pop of color besides the forest green rug under my feet.

His desk was scattered with files and loose sheets of paper. Behind him, on the shelves, were little plaques and awards he must've gotten when he was in school, along with a few teaching awards. There were large leather bound books, probably just for decoration, and then a few photographs of his family.

Happy wife, happy children, moderately happy husband.

The name plaque on his desk read, Principal Doug Brown, and when I looked up and met his eyes, he was still smiling. Doug Brown was bald, his head clean of any hair save for his bushy black eyebrows. He had a round belly that pushed against the desk as he leaned forward on his elbows as if to study me, trying to determine what type of student I was going to be.