I'm Not Ten Years Old, I'm Fourteen, You Dingus

Chapter Twenty-One: School Days- Jessica

AN: The chapter art is some of my drawings. Hope you like them! dancer_100126 you are going to have a blast with all the inside jokes.

After breakfast in 'snazzy' uniforms-I never quite understood how Rayna and Violet described things as 'snazzy'-classes were to begin. Gosh, I sound like Professor McGonagall or some old Victorian lady. I flipped through the packet Simon had given me the day before and saw my schedule. Huh. I wonder how I missed that.

Class Schedule- Jessica Tayes

8:00-9:00: Daily Run-Through
9:00-10:00: Vocal Warm-Ups & Practice W/ Lyrics
10:00-10:30: Lyric Memorization
10:30-10:45: Singing Practice W/ Out Lyrics
10:45-11:45: Song-Writing 101
11:45-12:05- Fitness
12:05-12:25: Lunch
12:25-12:45: Reading
12:45-1:00: Yoga For Beginners
1:00-2:00: Dance Warm-Ups
2:00-3:00: Routine Work/Dance Practice

Just reading through the schedule made me feel stressed and tired. 'Song-Writing 101'? Warm-ups for both types. 'Fitness'? And what the heck was 'Daily Run-Through'? "Calm down, Jess." I mutter to myself. Getting stressed won't help me. "Better get to class." Brooklyn said to me. Also on my schedule was the location of each class room. "Yep." I reply before dashing off.

This felling feels weird. I'm running through the halls of a boarding school, wearing a dress-thing. A dress. I never, ever wear a dress on a casual basis. Never. I'm quite athletic, you see. Brooklyn is stylish, but doesn't really wear dresses casually. Rayna is more of a dressy-jeans-and-top girl. Abi and Violet... Well, they've been wearing pyjamas for about a year. Straight. Abi always dresses nicely-her mother won't let her out of the house if her outfit doesn't match perfectly-and wears dresses casually every now-and-then. Violet, on the other hand, has zero fashion sense. Stylishness in her clothes is pretty much nonexistent. She wears sweatpants. In public.

I go inside room 203 for my first class, and am shocked by what I see. Honestly, I expected my old classroom from my old school, Saint Theresa School. You know, desks put into pods of four, the stack of bibles on a shelf, a smart board, the whiteboard, and the teacher's desk from eighth grade, Mr. Wilson. God, how we hated him.

But this classroom was different. The desks were a few tables with chairs around them, sort of like a science lab. There was a door off the the side, which was labelled 'Recording Booth'. On a table there seemed to be a bunch of audio stuff, the kind they use in recording studios. A tall wooden bookshelf stood against the wall, shelves full of packages. I took a seat at the table closest to the whiteboard, knowing it was my seat because there was a little card stock placeholder.

When I arrived, nine other girls came into the room. They must have mostly the same classes as me, or not. I knew this because I overheard snippets of conversation. "New supplies today!" "I have five different overviews to attend. This one's just for dancers and singers." "Apparently, I don't have a set profession." "They want you to explore. If you don't have a profession by September, you're expelled." "Only five girls in this school have professions." "I'm so jealous."

Wait, hold the phone. Only five girls in this school have a set profession? The girls and I have set professions, I think. We're the only ones who are pretty much destined for fame. Oh gosh.

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Alright. That was strange. Run-through is basically when they tell you what you'll do that day. The teacher is scary 'cause she's like a drill sergeant (AN: Hmm.. I wonder who Jessica knows that acts like a drill sergeant dancer_100126 .. Hint- it's not you.) and doesn't say words. She barks them.