The New Kid (A Zayn Malik Fanfiction)

Chapter 2

(A/N):
Hey it's me again! I got really excited when my last chapter to this got 5 reads (I know still not that many) but it means a lot! The fact that I'm not just posting these for my own health is nice to know. Anyway, thanks!
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Chapter 2

I walked up to the station where you get your schedule. The sign caught my eye. It only said 'get your schedules here' on it. However, it wasn't the words that caught me, it was the designs. The designs were relatively simple but it's simplicity is the reason it excited me.

You're doing it again. Stop being so observant!

I'm having a mental war inside my head. I have to stop. Being observant is one of my many fatal flaws.

I look down at the lady that is sitting behind the desk. She wears a baby blue button-up shirt. I immediately notice her jewelry. She wears a beautiful gold necklace. Laced around it are little tiny diamonds. Her necklace matches her earrings. They must've cost a fortune because I could tell that the diamonds were genuine.

Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail. Her ends were a faded blonde. The rest of her hair being brown. She also wears glasses. Her glasses look like a secretary would wear them. Underneath the lens of her glasses, I see her eyes. They're a beautiful shade of green and blue. She hasn't slept in a while, I can tell that from the rings under her eyes.

She looks up at me and smiles, revealing her gorgeous dimples. I've always thought that dimples were cute. Especially when they're deep and seem like they carve into your cheeks.

"Hi." I say.

"Hi. What can I do for you?" She says. It's almost like her accent slaps me in the face. Over the past few years, I've met many people with heavy accents, but her accent is just so heavy that it's almost unbelievable. I love the English and British people's accents. I'm actually really glad we moved here. For many reasons, actually.

"Could I please get my schedule?" I say, trying to sound as polite as possible.

"Yes ma'am. I just need your last name."

I marvel at her accent. I almost forget that she asked me a question and just stand there like an idiot.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your last name please." She says.

"Oh I'm sorry. It's Thompson, Jade Thompson."

I see her sift through the massive pile of folders. They were all different colors. However, each last name was color coded. A's were red, B's were orange and so forth. She kept repeating my last name under her breath while trying to find it. I watched as her fingers danced on all of the folders.

I felt like she was a pianist and the folders were her keys. Finally, her fingers stopped dancing, to my disappointment. She pulls a folder out of the thick stack of folders and checks the name tag one more time. She handed me the folder and I take it eagerly.

I thank her and walk away. I run my fingers up and down the folder.

Stop. You're doing it. Just get your schedule and get on with it.

I open the folder and there's at least 10 other papers and packets inside of it. I sift through the papers and find my schedule. I take it out and close the folder.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

I repeat these words multiple times as I read the paper over and over again, clearly astonished.

My schedule was, indeed, absolutely perfect.

1st period: History

2nd period: Science