I. First Day-2

I had to admit, it wasn't so bad driving down from New York in my own Jeep. Mom kissed me on the cheek as she ushered me out the door. She locked it behind us and blew me a kiss as she backed out of the driveway in her silver Mercedes. I took a deep breath as I climbed into my Jeep. It was black and all leather inside. It still smelled brand new. I forgot my nerves for a second as I started the engine. I plugged my phone into the AUX port and found a song to drown out my thoughts as I started my drive through the town. Providence was a really small town. Much smaller than I was used to, though I was used to weekend trips into Manhattan and anythingwould seem smaller than the Big Apple. There were several streets of houses like ours along the beach, and a main street of stores and businesses serviced them. As I drove down the main street I could see there was one of everything. A grocery story, a post office, a hair salon, a book store. Near the end of the street, and feeding directly out onto the beach was a diner. Sally's, it was called. I wondered if they were hiring. I drover further inland, only ten minutes or so, and Providence began to seem a little more suburban. The houses were larger and secluded by trees. Providence High School appeared soon after. The school was on a huge, flat acreage, with its football stadium appearing to be the main attraction. The scoreboard looked new, and as I drove past, I could see that "Donated by the Eckhart Family" was printed below the scores. "Home of the Mighty Vikings," I read as I pulled into the school driveway. Students were streaming into school, and I was following other cars, attempting to find my way to the student parking lot. The school building looked quite weathered and dated, and it was obvious when looking at the football stadium where most of the budget went. I supposed if I wanted to make friends at this school then I would have to get into football. I nabbed the first spot I could see and shut off the engine. Before getting out of the car, I double checked that I had everything in my book bag, knowing full well I had triple checked last night. When I no longer had any excuses, I got out of my car. I felt like I was sweating bullets. What a way to make a first impression than with pit stains. I tried to put blinkers on as I made my way towards the main school building, following the crowd. The school office had to be in there. But my blinkers were failing me. I could see that people had already started to notice me. People were staring, assessing me, and making their judgements. I seemed to attract eyes like a magnet as I sped towards the main building, a new pair on me each second that passed. I felt embarrassed and self-conscious as I looked down, attempting to avoid any awkward eye-contact. I thanked God when I made it to the front door, and I practically pulled it off its hinges in an effort to get inside. Not that inside was any better. I just found another hundred people to stare at me. Were new students this rare in Providence? I really wasn't fascinating. I wished that I had the courage to shout that out. "I really am ordinary!" I felt like telling them. "I do my homework early and watch reruns on Friday nights instead of going to parties!" Instead I turned right and followed the signs to the school office. There were two desks behind reception. One in front of the other. The lady at the back, Glenda, according to her nametag, was tapping away at her computer, while the lady at the front, Cherie, was on the phone. By the sounds of the conversation, she was talking to a parent about an absence. She smiled at me when she noticed me, and was the first one to do so at this school. She held her finger up, indicating for me to wait a moment. I fidgeted with the zipper on my book bag as I did so. When Cherie hung up the phone, she smiled at me kindly. "You must be Saraphine," she deduced. "You look just like your mother," she gushed. "Oh, Amanda was so pretty, and such a good student. I understand she's a doctor now." It hadn't occurred to me that seeing as my mom had grown up here, she had in all likelihood attended this school. Glenda abandoned her computer to stand with Cherie at the front desk. "Saraphine?" she gasped. "You're right, Cherie, she is justlike Amanda." "Sara," I corrected awkwardly. "And yeah, my mom is a doctor. She works at the cancer clinic not far from here, in Newtown." Cherie and Glenda exchanged a glance. "Well, Sara,welcome to Providence High," Cherie greeted warmly. She retrieved a packet from her desk and started to flip through it. "I've got here your class schedule, your school map, locker number and code, a cafeteria menu, school calendar, and a list of our extra-curricular activities. Are there any clubs you were thinking of joining? Never too early to start padding that resume for college." Cherie handed the packet to me. "Uh, I hadn't thought," I replied. Joining clubs had not been in my plan to try to be anonymous at this school. But she was right. I needed more than just good grades to get into a good college. "I'll look over the information. Thank you," I said gratefully. "Of course, dear," nodded Cherie. "Now, your first class is Spanish. I've asked Señora Gomez to send a student down to collect you and show you where you're going. Ah, here she is." At that moment, a cheerful blonde entered the school office. She looked really excited to see me, and I immediately felt bad for being so sceptical about the students here. "Saraphine?" she queried animatedly, her brown eyes darting over me. "Sara," I corrected. Only my mom called me Saraphine, and only when she was mad, which was hardly ever. The blonde grinned happily before pulling me into a surprise hug. "Oh, Sara! I am so glad to meet you!" I hugged her back, startled. I had not been expecting this greeting. "Same here," I managed to say. "Go on now, Cece. You don't want to be late," urged Cherie. Cece grimaced, though humorously. "Oh, of course not." To my surprise, Cece took my hand and dragged me from the office. She actually had a really firm grip. When were clear of the eyes and ears of the office ladies, Cece stopped. "I'm Cece Braverman," she introduced herself. "Sara Bryant," I replied. "I know!" she chirped happily. "Come on, Spanish awaits!" I followed along behind Cece. Watching how she bounced, skipped and ran along the school corridors with ease reminded me of just how unfit I was. Perhaps track was one of the extra-curriculars I should investigate. Cece did look really fit, though. Even though she was small, perhaps five four or so, she was toned, muscular, and her legs were defined and on show as she wore a pair of super cute denim shorts. Perhaps I ought to ask her what gym she went to. I was slender, but weak as anything. Cece brought us to a numbered classroom in a sea of doors that looked identical. She opened the door to a low hum of noise which quickly silenced as soon as I walked in. "Señora Gomez, this is Sara," introduced Cece. I could barely register was Señora Gomez said in response. All I could take in was the fact that I had twenty-two pairs of eyes on me, appraising me. I had never been the new kid before. Were we always this interesting? "Welcome, Sara. Please, tell us all a little about yourself," beckoned Señora Gomez. Crap. I paled. I did practice this. I searched my brain for fun facts but was coming up with nothing. Cece, bless her, seemed to sense my terror. "You're from New York, right?" "Yeah," I stammered, nodding. "Have you been to Manhattan?" she continued, winking at me. I relaxed a little. Cece had my back. "Yeah, loads of times." This seemed to get the class talking, and their eyes off of me momentarily. "Alright, alright, settle down," called out Señora Gomez. "We have a lot to get through and we're already a quarter of the way into the hour." Cece led me to a table down the back of the classroom and we sat down next to each other. I dumped my book bag and my information packet underneath the table. I would need to locate my locker soon. I would ask Cece to show me. "Thank you," I said to her gratefully. "I'm not quick on my feet." Cece laughed. "Lucky for you, I am." She winked again. As she slouched down in her chair to begin listening to the lesson, her tank top shifted, and it was then that I noticed a tattoo on Cece's chest. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. The ink was white. The writing was fine, so fine that it was hard to believe an artist had such control to ink such text. But it spelled out a word: Jamie. "I love your tattoo," I remarked without thinking, not realising that at this moment I looked as though I was staring at her breasts. Cece looked down and smiled. "Thanks. I got it a few months ago." I knew my mom would kill me if I ever got a tattoo, but seeing such fine work was astonishing. Maybe just for future reference. "Where did you get it?" I asked. Cece frowned. "I forget where," she replied. "Jamie and I were kind of out of it. We found a random place. I don't remember the name." "Oh," was all I said in reply. I said nothing further. I then tuned into Señora Gomez's lesson. --- I am in NO WAY giving up historical writing! I will endeavour to get back to Have Patience as soon as I can. As it's the first book in a long time I haven't been able to write with quick succession I've fallen out of love with it a little bit. I know how I want it to end, it's just hard getting there. Anyway, I've missed you guys. I soooo appreciate how patient you have been. When I was a reader on this site (can't really anymore booo hooo!!), I used to hate when writer's took ages to update books and I'd be thinking "HOW HARD IS IT TO WRITE A BLOODY CHAPTER!!" Well, now I've seen the other side, it's hard!! If you're like me, and you only want to show quality work, it's hard when you're lacking motivation for a particular story. And with this one, when you have the motivation and inspiration, the work just BLEEDS out of you. Vote and comment - please tell me what you think! I recently found this book on my laptop and I binge read the whole thing as if I hadn't written it. I really hope you like it!! Xxxx