The Cast List

Chapter 5

My school was fairly normal. It wasn't in the slums, but it wasn't in the rich kid neighborhood either. It was average size, 1500-1800 kids. There was graffiti on the back walls of the building, gum under the bleachers, writing on the desks. It wasn't in the best possible shape, but it wasn't crappy either. It was in one big, neatly laid out building, surrounded by the north and south parking lots and the athletic fields.

 My locker was at the far end of the first hallway you came to from the south lot door. It was just far enough away that I could easily get out at the end of the day but I didn't feel a draft on cold days. It was a pretty plain locker--I didn't like to decorate much. I just put up my school schedule, laminated so that I could draw on it, on the back of the door. Aside from that, I had a shelf, books, my secret stash of food, and a jacket/backpack hook.

A few mornings after the first reading of Rory and Julia, I walked into school completely soaked. I'd driven around in the pouring rain for at least five minutes searching for a parking space. Eventually I'd been forced to park at the back of the north lot, which was the on the opposite side of the door nearest my locker (which happened to be the only unlocked entrance besides the faculty's), so I had to walk all the way around. On top of that, I was late. So I sprinted to my locker, grabbed my French books, and squeaked, slipped, and zig-zagged my way all the way across the building to my French classroom. As a result, I was breathing heavily--and dripping water--when I walked into the classroom.

Madame Gauthier, in the middle of a lesson, looked up angrily at me. "Encore en retard, Jacobs?" she asked me in French, her "native" language.

I hesitated, trying to think of the word for "sorry" in French, but eventually just had to say, "Sorry," in a meek, apologetic voice. I hurried to the find an empty seat, which was at the back of the room next to none other than Nathan. I slipped into the seat reluctantly, groaning at my luck.

"What the hell happened to you?" he hissed at me disdainfully.

"It's raining," I replied condescendingly. There was no such thing as a positive tone when Nathan and I conversed.

"No shit." He glanced at me pointedly. My long-sleeved, gray shirt was skin tight from the rain and my black blazer-vest was limp with water. My stringy, brown hair was dripping just a little bit, limp and curly due to the rain.

I opened my mouth to offer a sarcastic reply, but Madame Gauthier had returned to her lesson and apparently did not appreciate Nathan's and my conversation taking precedence over her own, soothing voice. She glared at us and I rolled my eyes, glad for the excuse not to talk to Nathan.

When the class was over, Nathan and I had a short race to see who could get his books together and hustle out of the room first, which I won. Of course. Once I was out of the room, there was the small matter of fighting my way through the throng of people surrounding me. Sometimes I loved public school, because there were more people, more activities, and it was free--but then I walked out into the hallway between classes and I realized how stupid I had been for loving it. It was a miracle I hadn't sustained any major injuries yet. So, sucking in my breath and praying to the Flying Spaghetti Monster to deliver me from this deadly risk, I forced myself into the crowd.  

Immediately, I was jostled back and forth and all of my books spilled out of my hands. 

"Lovely," I muttered to myself, dropping to the floor to pick everything up. This was a rather hard matter, as I had to navigate through the jungle of ever-moving legs that surrounded me. I hadn't been carrying that much, but arguing with Nathan always took away a little bit of my control and concentration, thereby making me much more susceptible to clumsiness. Eventually I managed to get everything and run off to AP Chem just in time for my test.