My Mother Runs With Wolves

Chapter 3

The first day of school is fine when you're starting along with everyone else. But when you waltz in a couple weeks before Thanksgiving, you are The New Kid. People stare at you in class and speculate about who you are and where you come from. Everybody hates going through this, but no one hates it more than I do. Because I can actually hear their quiet speculations and chittering remarks.

I nervously tug the beanie down to my ears, take a deep breath, and walk into my first period European History class.

I blink at the disarray of classroom desks turned in random directions, likely for team discussions. The teacher—Mrs. Dinatto, according to my schedule—is youngish, with straight brown hair, a round face, and kind eyes. The previously noisy room quiets some as half the students stare at me.

Just once, I would like the main office staff to get in early enough so that whatever stupid procedures they have for a new student's first day could be finished before the first class actually started.

I look away from the sea of curious glances and silently hand the form to the teacher. I study the laces of my work boots while she reads the form. Already I can hear the whispers.

"Who's that?"

"I don't know. She's kinda hot."

"Those shoes are so tragic."

They come from all over the room, and I make no attempt to match whispers to faces.

Mrs. Dinatto finally looks up from the form and addresses the class. "Well, it looks like we have a new student joining us today. Please give a warm European History welcome to Miss Madlyn Gallows."

Random, half-hearted murmurs of "hello" circulate around the room. I give a quick, self-conscious wave to the class, then jam my hand back into my pocket.

"Now, Madlyn, you've picked the right day of the week to arrive. In addition to the regular coursework, you'll also be participating in a team project, as you can probably see." She gestures to the disorganized desks.

I groan inwardly, but my face must be showing my lack of excitement.

"I know," she says. "Team projects may not be your favorite thing, but I find that it engages the students more when they interact with each other."

"I'll 'interact' with her!" some guy shouts from the back of the class.

The room vibrates with chuckles at his innuendo.

I really hope my face isn't turning pink. My eyes dart to him. He's got sandy, close-cropped hair, and he's leering at me. It makes my skin crawl.

"Trevor, settle down!" Mrs. Dinatto says sharply before turning back to me. "I've allotted Mondays for the entire class to confer with their project partners and with me as well. The class has already been paired up into teams of two. One lucky pair will get to have you as a third team member. Now, who would like to volunteer opening their group to Madlyn?"

Trevor's hand immediately shoots into the air.

Please, no.

"Anyone else?" the teacher prompts, noting my discomfort.

The air is thick with silence as people look from me to the smirking boy. This can't be happening. My first day—no my first class—and already there's going to be a problem. Why can't she just assign me to some random group like a normal teacher?

I usually make it a point to stay away from troublemakers like Trevor. I can handle them, but I don't want to have to handle them. If I'm going to be teamed up with a Neanderthal, I can't be held responsible if his nose ends up being smashed by a stapler.