Banished To Ipswich

Chapter 1

A/N: I think it's only fair to note that the chapters will be of different length, some very short and other really long, just FYI. This is the way I wrote it though, and the way I feel it should be read. Enjoy!

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As a new kid in high school, you trend to just take the seats that are unoccupied.

Her first day with classes, and only her third at Spenser Academy, Bailey spends endlessly looking for the right hall. Two stairs up for Math, down again for English, and then up one more time.

Entering the lecture hall she looks up at the rows of seats that lines the circular room. At least they look comfortable. Blue fabric to cover the seats, and dark wood to hold the whole room together. She climbs up the stairs, passing the two first rows, and sliding into one with only a few residents. She puts her notebook on the table in font of her, and fish up a sufficiently working pen from her bag.

The stream of students pours neverending through the doors, and she watches them take their seats.

She notices a boy that walks in. He is just like any other, brown messy hair, fairly tan skin, the blue jacket, pants, and white shirt of the school uniform. However this one seems to be of particular interest, because the two girls walking behind him whispers behind their hands, eyes staying at him as they pass. He comes to a halt by the board, and his eyes play bored from the right to the left, as if expecting nothing new. When they reach the end he lets his gaze fall back down, and walks to climb the stairs.

When he reaches her row, instead of passing it, he simply slumps down in the seat. He slams down his things in front of himself. Then he leans back in the seat.

"Can I sit here?" He asks with a hint of boredom. He's leaning his head against the back of the row, rolled to the side so his eyes are meeting hers.

"It's not reserved." She states.

His expression doesn't change. Eyes still meet hers, and the rest of him shouts school tired teenager.

"Lucky me." He states, not moving an inch.

"Indeed." She agrees. "Maybe I should have reserved it for cute boys only."

The lecturer enters the room, and shushes the class. It's an older white man, with beard and hair shifting in gray and white. His glasses catches the lights and throws them back at his audience. He pulls them off his nose and rummages through the pockets of his yellow blazer, getting hold of a handkerchief that he uses to polish them off.

"Hello, everyone. Some of you might know me, I am Mr Hart, and I teach Social Studies." He places his glasses back on his face. "Know that I never take questions that are shouted, insincere, or called in the middle of me talking. You are to be adults, if you want to be treated as such I suggest you adapt to my rules."

He looks up at the class.

"Assignments that are to be emailed are to be sent in before 4 pm the day they are assigned to, otherwise they will not be taken in consideration in your grade. Assignments that are to be handed in personally shall be delivered when you enter class."

Despite the quite fair deal mumbles are heard throughout the room. He turns away, picking up chalk from the blackboard.

"Today we're talking about the current military situation, beginning with the conflicts in the Middle East." He starts writing, and the room shuffles for paper and pen to start taking notes.

After two and a half pages of notes Mr Hart puts down the chalk, pausing in his lecture.

"Finish your notes while I set this up. I'm going to show you the development of conflicts when the US military have taken action in the past."

Bailey continues her writing, as the professor moves down a projection screen using a remote. The rest of the class starts buzzing, letting go of their studies for some summer break gossip.

"It's kinda crazy, isn't it?" The boy next to her speaks. He motions at the screen, and the picture the professor has pulled up, vague in the bright lights. She looks to him, and then motion at the screen with her pen still in her hand.

"It's power play." She lowers her head again, continuing her writing.

"What?" The boy looks at her. She finishes the last three sentences on her page before moving to answer.

"It's a thing about power, well, obviously. Who controls what, and protects whom. But it says a lot about the people behind it."

She lean back in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest, still holding her pen in her right hand, tucked under her arm. The boy has now taken over her earlier pose, as she has his. He sits straight in his seat, his attention on her, as she gives examples of different leaders and their traits.

When she finishes he looks at her with an impressed smile.

"Wow. Shrink. Okey then, what kind of person do you have me pinned down as?"

She looks at him for a moment, before moving her gaze past him, sweeping the opposite walls as she answers, as if it is not worth her attention.

"You saw me as easy prey."

The boy half frowns and opens his mouth, drawing breath to speak, but the lector clears his throat, and they both turn back to continue the lesson.

When the class ends the boy stands up and lets her out first, looking in lost thought. He follows right behind her until they get to the exit.

"Can I see your schedule?" He leans towards her so she can hear him in the loud corridor.

She puts her bag on the floor, and trying to not get pushed by the massive force of students. Crouching down she gets her printed schedule out and hands it to him. He reads through it silently.

"Seems this is our only class together." He hands it back, and looks over the crowd, thinking for a hot minute. "Tell you what." He looks back at her. "Before the lesson next week, we'll meet outside the main entry. We'll go get coffee."

"Is it a date?" Bailey asks, scrunching her nose at the word, but nothing mean in her voice.

"No." His hands fidgets in his pockets. "It's just a get-to-know-each-other sorta thing."

Bailey nods.

"Okay. Sounds great." She holds out her hand. "Bailey."

"Chase."

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