The Georgia Rule

Chapter Twelve

"So tell me again exactly why this is necessary?" I inquired, slightly overwhelmed with the number of activities Andria had planned for the day. The notebook she held between her fingers had scribbles of ink scratched across the page in bulleted points, but Andria had made sense out of non-sense as she recited the supposed words on the paper.

"If it wasn't obvious already," she stated with an eye-roll, "you're new to our team and none of us in this room actually knows you."

"And you expect me to believe that you don't know of me?" I asked incredulously.

"See, that's precisely the point. We know of you – but we don't actually know you," she finished smartly. Andria's interactions with me were far more professional than it had been yesterday, and I was slightly thankful, as my encounter with Breanna had drained what little fight I had left in me for the week.

I had arrived ten minutes earlier than I was scheduled to, despite having stopped at the vending machine to grab a Sprite. Andria had taken the liberty to have the classroom tidied a bit, by having transformed the clutter on the desks to slightly less of an eyesore than it had previously been.

"Wait. If that shrieking is going to happen again you can count me out – whether I have to be here or not." I said while crossing my arms defiantly.

"Relax," she rolled her eyes again, "like I said before, it's only the school bell. Faulty wiring is all," she added with an eye-roll, "Plus, it is after school hours, so there shouldn't be any sign of a ruckus."

"If you say so," I mumbled in defeat, allowing my eyes to skim the area of the room.

According to Finn, students are required to have at least forty eight accumulated hours of participation in an inter-school activity, sport or club in order to meet graduation regulations. Putting my blind faith in Finn was not a task I was prepared to do, so I had expeditiously referred to my student hand book, which unfortunately for me, had confirmed his statement.

Beneath a polished photo of what I assumed was Finn's grandfather was the explanation for such regulation:

"Radford Preparatory was built on selflessness, courage and sheer determination, and today I strive to uphold the standards as set by my father. As of the academic year of 1964 and onwards, we strive to enforce the art of teamwork and cross cultural communication amongst peers. Non scolae sed vitae discimus." – Mathaeus Radford, Headmaster of Radford Preparatory, 1964

There were five other members of the Website Club present besides Andria and I.

Jenny – the girl who was seemingly responsible for alerting everyone of when the bell would be ringing – was reading a book with her legs propped up on the desk before her. The unknown girl who mirrored Jenny's features and a boy with a classic Beiber haircut had their heads hung low tapping away at the screens of their phones. Higgins was whispering to a boy I had never seen before with spiky jet black hair, the topic of conversation presumably being me as they tossed occasional glances my way.

"We should just be waiting for two more people and then we can begin." Andria broke me from my reverie as she glanced at the dainty floral patterned watch that hung off her wrist, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. "I can't believe she's late again," she mumbled to herself absentmindedly.

I didn't have much time to dwell on Andria's statement that was clearly meant for her ears only, as the door to the room swung open and I assumed that one of the people we were waiting for had arrived.

Finn Radford sauntered through the doorway with a coffee mug grasped between his fingers and an effortless smirk resting on his lips. Today's tie was a light hue of periwinkle that somehow enhanced the vibrancy of his cerulean irises. He had long abandoned his suit jacket, and the sleeves of his ivory dress shirt were neatly buttoned at his wrists.