Innocent

Chapter 7: High School

“That's the pathetic thing about high school. Everyone tries so hard to be something they aren't. It's gotten so I don't know who I am, so how can I even try to be who I am, much less who I'm not?
My problem is that I don't even fit in with the misfits.I don't fit anywhere.”

~Katie Aleander, Bad Girls Don't Die

        Agent Collins's car halted to a stop. He rolled the windows down, and I looked out to my new high school. I mocked the idea of high school. I had just gotten out of one prison to go into another one, high school. "This, Isabelle, is your new high school." He said mockingly, as if he was grabbing a kitten and threatening to throw it in a lake. I mentally shivered as I looked out to the window to see everyone staring at me. They know who I am, I thought paranoid. "They've been expecting you." Agent Collins raised an eyebrow and pushed me out. I was a deer caught in the headlights. "What?" I replied back startled, "What about my clothes?" I pointed to myself, I was still in my orange jumpsuit and black combat boots. He grinned at me, "You look fine. Everyone knows you went to prison, so who cares? The thing about high school is you should just come as you are. By the way, Matthew and I have to escort you home, because of the press." Agent Collins paused, finally remembering something. "Oh, and Isabelle you'll get your money after school. With that being said, he drove off quickly leaving me at a high school with no idea what to do. Thank you, Collins. Thank you. I took a deep breath. You got this. I reassured myself. You speak eleven languages, have college degrees, and you are a martial arts master. One year of high school will be as easy as pie.

        I entered the front door all eyes on me. Subconsciously I reached for the knife in my boot. No! Stop! My mind shouted, this is not prison we do not solve problems like that. This is School. A woman started to walk towards me, her straight midnight black hair was pulled into a ponytail. Her blue pencil skirt made her look professional and as wisps of hair poked out of her bun she smiled at me. Her wide-set eyes gave her a sense of friendly innocence. She was thirty at most, and even though she seemed friendly. She walked with a sense of earned authority. There was no doubt in my mind that she was the principal. She handed me a piece of paper. "Hello, Isabelle. My name is Mrs. Cathleen and I'm the principal of the school." She motioned around the high school as if I was some kindergartner who couldn't understand what a school was. I officially do not like her. She didn't let me speak as she pointed to the paper she handed me. I gazed at it. My schedule.

English IV

Calculus

Advanced Biotechnology

World History

Arts and Humanities

Free Period

PE

        "This is your schedule. It tells you what your classes are and in what order there in. Okay?" Mrs.Cathleen asked. I nodded my head indifferently, and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Behave Isabelle. Behave. I reminded myself. Mrs. Cathleen wavered, "Isabelle we all are too aware of your past, and I hope it doesn't become a problem. Because if it does, I can assure you, I will take care it. Do we understand each other?" Mrs. Cathleen threatened, his brown eyes becoming all too dangerous. Where was the kindergarten teacher when you needed her? I nodded but my mind was elsewhere.The unknown deck of cards, and the eighty-million dollars. They haunted my mind, giving me no rest. "Isabelle?" Mrs. Cathleen asked, interrupting me from my thoughts.

"Yes?" I replied. 

        "Let's go to English." She swiftly grabbed me by the arm and walked down a labyrinth of hallways to a classroom. She opened the door to reveal a sea of familiar faces. Storm. Matthew. Everyone from my middle school, I knew every face in the crowd. My heart began to race, pounding and pounding against my chest. An entire classroom filled with people I hadn't seen in years. She handed me a sharpened pencil, "Good luck." I examined the new pencil, pretending to care about the piece of yellow wood with a pink eraser. Mrs. Cathleen quickly headed back to her office, leaving me alone with a sea of faces, where even though they were familiar, they were strangers. "Isabelle, have a seat. I'm your English teacher, Mrs. Tara. Okay sit wherever you want. I don't really care." I took a seat in the middle, three seats away from Storm. "Okay class let's get started." Mrs. Tara handed me a copy of the book the class was reading, Fahrenheit 451.