New Rome || COMPLETED

Chapter 15

I figure I should just go to my second class, in case I get lost again, so I wander around for a bit to understand the layout of the place. I want to eat my candy, by I realize it's a peppermint,.and I'm allergic to them. After the whole office scenario, though, I really don't wanna throw anything away, so I tuck the peppermint into my belt pouch. After a little while I get how the rooms are laid out, the place is quite easy to navigate actually. My second class is Demigod Healing/Medicine. Should be so so so easy.

Anyways, it's in room #466, which is where I am now. I stand outside the door, waiting until the first period ends. Suddenly I hear a chime, not like the original bell I heard in the morning. Students run out, and I move away. Then, straightening my hair, I walk into the classroom.

"Ah, first! The early harpy gets the demigod!" Exclaims a large man at the front of the room.

He isn't very tall, but is, well, portly I guess. He's also bald with a few gray hairs, crooked round glasses, and a small beard. He's wearing a suit with no tie.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Have a seat, your pick!" He tells me. I slink towards the back row, where I sit down in the very middle.

I grab a binder out of my backpack and open it up. Then I realize that I forgot a pencil. Oh crap.

People start to come in. Camp was a large place, so I barely know any of them. I recognize a few, though. About a third of the class. Lina Drummond. Ash Smithson. Peter Johnson. Jonny Luceford. Perry Johansson. Libby Singer. Jay Patel. Mia Davis. Rema Sahar. And, of course, Anthony Reeves. My friend after Felix and Pedro died. A son of Mercury, a prankster.

"Alright, let's call role! If you have a preferred nickname, please tell me now!" The professor exclaims.

"Andrew Aarons!" He says. The good thing about being called first is that you can zone out for the rest of role call.

"Here!" I yell. "And please call me Andy, sir."

He makes a note on his clipboard.

"Hayden Aiken!"

"Here!"

"Ray Bryant!"

"Here!"

"Mia Davis!"

"Here!"

"Lina Drummond!"

"Here!"

"Catherine Earl!"

"Here! And please call me Cathy, sir."

I kind of zone out for the rest of role call, until he says, "All right! My name is John Browne, and you can call me Professor Browne, or Mr. Browne. Please sit in alphabetical order!"

I trudge to the front row, the leftmost seat. There's 30 kids in this class, and five rows of 6 desks. Which leaves me with Hayden Aiken, a boy I don't even know, on my left, and Bea Jenkins, a girl I also don't know, behind me. Diagonally from me is Perry Johansson.

I take back what I said about having the first last name being awesome and whatnot. It's not awesome. It sucks.

I lean back, as Mr. Browne comes up to the front of the room. "Alright, I want everyone to copy this in your binders. This is what we'll be studying this year." He says, displaying a list. I realize I still don't have a pencil.

I wince as something hits me in the back of the head. It bounces off and lands on my desk. Oh! It's a pencil! Taped to it is a note:

Dude, you owe me one. Not my pencil. I stole it off Rema Sahar's desk. On my left. She has millions of these. But you still owe me one :-)
-A.R.

Maybe this won't be so bad.

Thanks for reading!

7-16-20