The Winchester Code

Chapter 23 - School Is Shit

School is Shit

Chapter 23

The one up side to this whole massive ordeal – you know, me almost dying, how many times now? – was that I didn't have to go to school. I have nothing against school, except for the crippling stress, constant anxiety, late nights of study and the general miserable fact that it makes me want to kill myself – forever. Dean had told me to make the best of it. New school, new people, normality – and he's right. For however long it's been, all I have wanted was something normal. I just didn't particularly want it to be school. I shouldn't complain. Yes I should.
I loved the entire lead-up to school. The shopping for normal things like bags and pens and books  (admittedly, I did feel horrible that the boys had to pay for it, but they assured me that they could handle it), it all felt so familiar. And then the crushing realisation that when I came home from a long, hard, tiring day, I wouldn't be coming home and hugging my mum and telling her about my problems; I wouldn't be turning to dad to help me with my maths; I would be coming home to the bunker, and not knowing if anyone would be there. Kevin had reassured me he would help with my homework, and that he would always be there to welcome me. I reassured him that I would be just fine, thank you, I wouldn't want to distract you from your prophesying. Dean and Sam said that they would call me if anything happened, to which I found out that the school doesn't allow students to keep their phones on them. Dean picked up a cheap phone and gave it to me, told me to keep it charged and keep it on me. He programmed his, Sam's, and Bobby's number in it, and showed me how to tuck it into my sock so it wouldn't smell like feet. Sam had taken me down to the armoury, turning on the lights before making me descend the stairs, and let me pick out a knife to take. That seemed drastic, and if I was caught with it, I would probably be expelled and have it marked on my permanent records, but gee wiz, I am glad that he let me take it. I used it as a security blanket, fiddling with it, sewn into my jacket as I sat in the car, hardly breathing on my way to the first day of senior year.
Dean had dropped me off at the gate with a full-faced smile and a "see ya' later, kiddo", while students gaped I awe at the Impala that I just got out of (or maybe it was at Dean himself, with his fairy-tale green eyes and strong jaw line – as if any of them would have a chance with him!)
I stood on the spot, looking at all the other students as they slowed to stare as the car peeled from the curb and zipped around the corner.
I heard someone whistle under their breath. "What I wouldn't give for a car like that."
"What I wouldn't give for a man like that." Someone said in reply.
I turned just in time to see a blond haired boy hit another guy with his books. "Jason!"
"What? It's not like I would do anything!" Said Jason with a smug smile. "You gotta admit he was pretty good looking."
"Whatever." The blond gave a wave of his hand and kept walking, giving Jason the cold shoulder.
"Finn!" Jason called, running after him. "Babe, come back!"
It didn't take long for the school yard to thin out to myself and a couple of stragglers, faces full of hope, as if the education system hadn't crushed their dreams yet. They must be freshmans.
I pick one that looks at least a little confident, and follow them inside, trying to stay a bit behind them, so that it at least looks like I'm not about to jump them. They walk up to a reception desk and I stand a little way away, listening as they ask where they're supposed to be going. The receptionist hands them a map and they nod gratefully, looking just as confused as they walk off.
I sigh quietly and walk up to the desk. The woman has her back turned to me and I fiddle with the knife in my jacket as I clear my throat to get her attention.
"Hello!" She smiles brightly as she sees me.
"Uh, hi." I say in reply, leaning on the desk. "I'm a little lost."
"Well where are you supposed to be?"
I look at the pen pot on the desk. "I'm not quite sure. My orientation package didn't come." I deliberately leave out the fact that we don't have a post box because we don't get mail. My orientation package has probably ended up at the last motel the boys stayed at.
"Ah, I see. What's your name, dear?"
"Zaviana." I say, "Z-A-V-I-A-N-A."
"That's an interesting name."
"Yeah." I agree, cringing at the thought of the next question. "Had it since birth."
"Zaviana Winchester?" She asks.
"Yeah." I confirm as I watch her raise an eyebrow at the computer.
She looks up at me and smiles again a little awkwardly, I can see the questions swirling at the back of her eyes.
"So what room am I in?"
"Oh," she pulls back and grabs a map of the campus, highlighting a room and drawing a path. "Just follow this line, then turn right here, and voila!"
"Thank you." I smile, taking the map. I hoist my backpack up my shoulders and walk down the hall, hoping that my sense of direction doesn't completely fail me.