The Mural (GirlXGirl) *PROMO SAMPLE*

One

I can't believe this. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like I have to stay. I could very well just leave, head to my classes without any regard for... whoever I'm supposed to be showing around today, but I'm worried about how bailing on them would look. Not that the new student seems to care about first impressions, anyway, considering they're now ten minutes late.

As I sit in the front lobby, my knee impatiently bouncing away, I check my watch. Okay, I would give them five more minutes, and then after that, they're on their own.

Then they'll be lost on their first day, thanks to you.

Well, I have classes too!

Yeah, but we both know you won't get in trouble for missing them.

Who's "we"? We're the same person. And besides, just because the faculty favored me didn't mean I was okay with abusing the privilege. Also, I want to go to my classes to claim my seat.

I check the time again. The starting bell had rung thirteen minutes ago, meaning the new kid is now thirteen minutes late. I continue tapping my foot.

After I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and exhale irritably, I send a quick text to Gwen, my best friend, for her to save me a seat next to her in English class. The counselor at the front desk clears her throat, suggesting I put my phone away.

The bell rings one last time, signaling the start of classes.

I stand to leave. Maybe the new kid isn't coming today. Maybe they aren't coming at all. At this point, I didn't care. I have a class to get to.

That's when they, or should I say she, barrels through the front doors loud and not-so proud. She's tall, possibly between five-foot six and five-foot seven, and her slim build reminds me of a runner. She wears her summer tan well, and she has this kind of natural beauty about her, and this crazy vibe I can't seem to ignore...

Get it together, Peyton.

"Hi, uh..." she mumbles to the lady at the front desk. "I'm looking for Peyton Kelly. He's supposed to be showing me around."

I roll my eyes. Well, she certainly won't find any male bits around my part of town.

"Yeah, that's me," I introduce myself sharply. "Peyton Kelly."

Hazel eyes pull their attention away from the front desk and land on me. Her eyes widen, probably out of embarrassment from realizing Peyton Kelly is in fact a girl, but who knows? Her cheeks turn red.

"Shit, I'm sorry," she apologizes as she runs one hand nervously through her dark-brown hair. "I didn't know..."

"It's fine," I reply.

She stands still for a minute, looking at me almost dumbfounded, until she realizes my purpose in being here. That's when she fishes for her schedule in her black backpack.

"It's Jamie Kendall," she finally introduces.

As she struggles to find what she's looking for, I find my anger over the whole late situation subsiding. There's something about her that's intriguing, to say the least, but I couldn't put my finger on it. But judging by her outfit that consisted of tight, black skinny jeans, a pair of Converse shoes, and a white t-shirt with the word GIRLS on it, I immediately pin her as a city girl. They were few and far between here at Branton High because, well, we're a small town located in north-central Georgia. I silently wonder how she's ended up here.

She finally finds her schedule, which is now a little crumpled, but still intact. She hands it to me.

"Great," I say while turning on my heels. "Let's go."