The Definition of Infinite

Mae

Principal McDonagh is not a very pleasant man to look at. He is quite a large man probably in his late fifties judging by the amount of wrinkles and frown lines on his face. His hair is limited, a grey strip not even covering the top of his head and ends at his unholy sideburns that are in desperate need of a cut. His face looks sunburned and sweaty with his eyebrows taking up most of his forehead. His appearance is definitely intimidating, a fine quality for a principal I think.

He glances up from my school records raising his caterpillars as he does so. I flush red, feeling as though he has read my thoughts

"So, Miss Anderson-"

"Actually,its supposed to be Jenkins" I interrupt.

He gives me an irritated side glance before sighing and leaning towards his computer

"So it is" he says drawing out each syllable.

He doesn't press me on why my name is different in my file,for which I'm grateful. 

He begins the whole 'welcome to Bridewood high' speech that every principal ever gives, droning on about the rules and how they expect nothing less the excellence from their students which we both know isn't true considering I just saw a student call him something that sounded an awful lot like 'ducking runt." But that wasn't just any student, that was Nina, from whom I'd expect nothing less.

I tune out after a sentence or two pulling at loose thread above the pocket of my jeans until it snaps off. The old me would never do this. She would sit up straight with a pen and notebook in hand, taking in ever last word coming out of the potato man in front of me. But that girl is gone and may never come back.

Principal McDonagh continues telling me empty words for what feels like hours, his drawn out sentences punctuated by raspy breathes that are hard not to wince at.

I begin to count how many time he says the word 'so' to stop me from falling asleep. It becomes a game for me, a game that quickly becomes tedious, it gets to the point that the word seems to carry no meaning, causing me to vow never to use the word again. It reminds me of when girls say the word 'Like' too much, there was a girl named Megan at my old school who couldn't finish a sentence without using it at least three times, she told me a story once using the word 'like' 137 times in total ( I counted ), this story might I add would take a normal person seconds to rhyme off, not Megan though, It took her A whopping 8 minutes, 8 minutes of my life that I will never get back, Much like right now.

Finally McDonagh finishes the speech, I feel like I've been in school for hours and want nothing more then to curl up in bed with a cup of green tea and my Netflix. 

He stands up handing me my timetable.

"I look forward to having you at Bridgewood and if you have and questions you know where my office is" he says, his voice lacking any trace of sincerity.

I nod my head as a thank you and take my timetable from him, deciding that I can find my own way to French class without asking him for directions. I look forward to not seeing him until graduation, that is if I make it that far.

I get up and swing around to the door. that man is so sedate that my nerves are almost gone from spending those 45 minutes in his office, I decide Ill wait out the remainder of this class in the bathroom across the hall.

I'll ask someone for directions next class instead. I think to myself.

I stand for a moment in the hallway taking it all in. Its silent here, the only noise is the low murmur of teachers voices vibrating through the thin cream colored walls. The walls are decorated with weird posters with inspirational quotes from dead poets, and tips about healthy eating which I find ironic considering that cafeterias healthiest option is probably their greasy fat fried chips. Just as I'm about to enter the bathroom I hear a familiar voice drifting down the hall.

I'm torn between hiding in the bathroom or confronting Nina. I haven't talked to her since I was eleven years old. I mean sure, when I first moved to the boarding school there were letter and the occasional E-mail. But after time they became more and more rare. It wasn't long before the two page long letters turned into a yearly Christmas card, those Christmas cards stopped when I was fourteen.

I spend a second too long thinking about what to do, because Nina rounds the corner with a lanky tanned guy wearing thick glasses in toe.

She stops for a moment when she sees me, then starts to walk again towards me, I cant read her face right now its completely blank.

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A/N

Hello wonderful people of the internet.

I know the story hasn't exactly progressed much, I've been focusing more on introducing the characters and stuff. But I promise I will in the next few chapters.

 You know the usual, vote, comment, share, and what not.

Feedback would be appreciated at this point so like......yeah.

Callie xxx