Interconnected

Chapter Five

I can hardly sleep for how nervous I am. We got in later than I had hoped yesterday, and I didn't have time for a full tour like I wanted—which means I have to find all my classes today. Sure, I have a map, but that doesn't really mean anything. Not when you're nervous and have five minutes to find a class that may or may not be in this building.

Breakfast is a hasty affair—a granola bar that I had stashed away in my room. I don't have the energy to brave the dining hall this morning. It's sure to be packed.

I did make myself a cup of tea in the kitchen, though. That's always the first thing I do every morning. It's the only thing that wakes me up.

I pack my laptop and a water bottle into my tote bag. We don't have any textbooks—basically everything is online. It's easier that way, and more environmentally friendly. I'm sure we'll have some handouts, though, so I pack a few empty folders so I can stay organized.

The air is warm, even though it's so early, and I suck in a deep breath as I step outside the dorm.

On mondays, all the students have an Assembly in the same place we had orientation, so that's where I head now. I didn't see Ben on my way out, and we haven't had the chance to talk about Rose's schedule, but maybe I'll be able to catch them after the assembly.

I got the feeling that Rose is pretty independent and would be able to go to all of her classes and stuff without feeling nervous—I'm sure Ben plans on meeting her for lunch. It would be nice to walk back to the dorm with her at the end of the day.

I don't have any extracurriculars this semester, sort of a way to ease myself into Sir Robertson's no doubt hectic schedule, so there shouldn't be any issues with that.

I'm about fifteen minutes early for the assembly, and there's only a handful of other students filling the seats. I head towards the same spot I had last time, in the back row, and sink into the seat with a sigh.

I pull my book out of my bag—it's a new fantasy novel that's kind of like a darker Harry Potter and that I'm completely obsessed with—and spend the extra time reading.

Eventually, a mic screeches below me, and I look up to find that all of the seats have filled. Principal Harris stands on the stage, her black pantsuit crisp and pressed, her eyes surveying us forebodingly. Honestly, I'm a little scared of her.

I guess it takes a lot to run a school like this, but she looks at us like we've already failed her, even though it's only the start of the first day.

"Students and faculty members," she starts, her voice rich and commanding, "welcome to a new year at Sir Robertsons."

She clasps her hands in front of herself. "Here at Sir Robertsons, we make sure to cultivate a culture of acceptance, academic excellence, and exemplary behaviour. I hope all of you bright young people keep that in mind as you make your way through the year."