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𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐁𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋; 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐒, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃. She sighed angrily to herself as her shoes slid against the linoleum floor, nearly sending her into the lockers, just barely catching herself and shooting forward down the hall, the loud squeak of her skidding shoes screaming into her ears, her vision momentarily clouded from the pain, sending her stumbling; this didn't normally happen, but she seemed to have trouble controlling her heightened senses as of late, which was anything but comforting.
By the time she reached her second period classroom—she had missed first period entirely—her head was pounding and she was ready to just collapse on the ground for a few minutes to re-center herself, but she knew that it wouldn't be taken well by anyone if she did, so all she could do was lean against the door for a few moments, gripping the handle and taking deep breaths, forcing herself to relax her muscles and eyes, having squeezed them shut in an attempt to hurry the process.
When she was able to relax the tension in her temples and shoulders, it was much easier to breathe and center herself, and while it did cost her extra time in being late, she would at least be able to get right to work, rather than lowering her head on her desk and running the risk of getting in trouble.
Opening the door, she stepped inside, looking around, startled to find that everyone had decided to find new places to sit, all of them looking towards her as she struggled to find an empty seat.
"Phoebe," her AP Environmental Science teacher, Mr. Jewells, greeted, "It's good you're here. After the blatant cheating that went on during the last test, I've decided that we're going to have a seating chart. You're sitting next to Ms. Moon. Cindy, raise your hand."
Phoebe turned to look at the desks, catching sight of two hands raised in different parts of the room. Feeling her heart rate quicken, she turned back towards her teacher with wide eyes, unsure of what she was supposed to do; her class didn't have any Cindy's in them, which meant that these two had to be from another class, which just made things so much worse.
"Oh, I mean, um...I'm sorry, how did you say we were supposed to tell you apart?" Mr. Jewells asked, looking rather flustered as he searched for his roster where he had no doubt written himself an explanation; it was still the beginning of the school year.
"Well, both of our names are Cindy, but during practice people just say 'Cin,' so I'm Cin and she's Cindy," the Cindy with shorter hair explained, practically drowned in her Midtown High Hockey Team sweatshirt.
"Oh, okay, 'Cin,'" Mr. Jewells began, and he didn't seem sold on the compromise, but it wasn't as if he had much choice, "Phoebe will be sitting with Cindy, you still get to sit next to Mr. Parker."
