If her aunt was going to let her into her life, then the least Sarah could do was humor her--even if Jane's idea was completely bonkers. Jumping on a bicycle she found in the tool shed, the next morning Sarah pedaled down the same road she'd arrived on less than a day earlier.

Jane had already left for work hours ago teaching first grade at the one and only elementary school in town, but they'd arranged to meet up during her lunch break. What Sarah didn't expect was jet lag to hit her quite as hard. So with just ten minutes to get there and taking the bare-bones directions she'd been given ("it's a tiny town so there's no way you could get lost!"), she dodged potholes and slippery leaves to avoid being late.

She'd almost forgotten about the house on the corner until it came into view. There was nothing special about it, really. Big, dark, and looming, yes. But it was just walls and a roof--

HONK! The blare of a horn and the screeching of tires snapped Sarah's attention back to the road and the car she'd almost rolled in front of, which was now stopped in the middle of the intersection.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she yelled, feeling her heartbeat thumping like crazy in her chest. "I'm sorry. I'm okay," she babbled while waving at the driver to go on, avoiding eye contact and turning to get away as fast as she could.

Damn, she could have died!

Thankfully, the rest of her trip was less eventful. As Jane had promised, that road led straight into the quaint downtown, which was straight out of a WB series. The central square held everything important: city hall, fire department, library, and--what mattered to Sarah now--the high school.

After leaning the bike against a tree since she couldn't see any racks, she headed for the main entrance when a wall of something cold and wet hit her.

"What the fuck?" Sarah asked, throwing her hands in the air and jumping back even as the liquid dripped down her face and the front of her shirt.

"Whoops, sorry. Didn't see you there, emo Taylor Momsen," cooed a girl from an open window above eye-level as she shook the last drops out of her reusable bottle. "Don't worry. It was just water."

"Are you crazy?" yelled Sarah, as other kids gathered around the girl. "What kind of person just dumps stuff out the window without looking?"

Although the girl just laughed, a boy standing behind her appeared more concerned. "That wasn't cool, Ever," he said with a frown. Leaning out the window, he called down, "Hey, are you okay?"

Sarah smirked. "Do I look okay? I'm fucking drenched."

"C'mon, Caleb. She's not your problem," Ever said to the boy, trying to coax him away.

But he ignored her and instead wiggled out of his sweatshirt. "Here," he said to Sarah as he held the folded up top out the window. "Put this on."

"No, keep it," Sarah said, but it was too late. He'd already tossed the shirt to her. Reaching out, she caught it before it hit the ground. "Nice toss."

He smiled. "I'm the varsity quarterback," Caleb boasted as the muffled voice of an adult sounded from behind him. "Oh, shit. Class is starting. I gotta go. You good?"

Sarah was still awkwardly holding the balled-up sweatshirt. "Uhm, yeah. But how can I give this back to you?" she asked.

He paused for a moment, looking in the distance. "Are you in town for a while?"

"Yeah, but--"

"Then I'll find you," he said and ducked away before she could say anything else.

"Well, that was weird," Sarah muttered to herself as she unfolded the longsleeve hoodie. On the front, the words PILGRIM PRIDE were written in big white letters. "You've got to be kidding me."

Reluctantly, Sarah pulled on the sweatshirt. It was at least three sizes too big for her, but it smelled surprisingly nice for having come from a teenage boy.

"Hi. I have an appointment to see the principal. My aunt should already be here," she said once she'd found the school office.

The secretary clicked on a computer mouse a few times and stared at her computer monitor. "Sarah? It's that door there. Go on in."

After taking a deep breath and wiping her palms on her jeans, Sarah knocked.

"Come on in," a male voice instructed from the other side.

Sarah pushed the door open to find the principal sitting behind a desk and Jane in one of two guest chairs.

"Have a seat, Miss . . .," the man said, pausing to look at a yellow sticky on the tabletop. "Corwin."

With a quick nod to Jane, Sarah took the second chair.

"Your aunt and I have discussed it briefly, but I'm still not sure I fully understand your situation," said the principal, steepling his fingers as he leaned forward.

"I'm sorry, sir, but what's your name again?" Sarah asked without even trying to hide her disdain at the man's disregard for proper introductions.

He pulled back and cleared his throat. "Forgive me. I'm just so used to everyone knowing everyone else around here," he said. "Jonathan Orr, full-time principal and part-time football coach."

"So, Principal Orr, the thing is that I really don't need to be here," she said. "I mean, I've finished high school already and I've been accepted to start college in January. My Aunt Jane, however, thinks it would be good for me socially to get a chance to interact with my peers while I'm staying with her."

Orr nodded and stroked his chin. "You were homeschooled in California, correct?"

Sarah shrugged. "It was more like self-study."

"Your parents--"

"My dad's never been in the picture and my mom had too many jobs to find time to deal with me," she cut him off, anticipating the question.

"So you did the entire homeschool curriculum on your own?" Orr asked, wide-eyed.

Sarah nodded. "More or less. Youtube helped."

"Pardon me for being dense, but why didn't you go to regular school, then?" he continued.

This was always Sarah's least favorite part of any such conversation and she wanted it over with as quickly as possible. "We moved a lot, so it didn't make sense for me to start a school and then get yanked out halfway through the term," she said, staring intently at a chip in her nailpolish.

"Military?" Orr asked.

She looked up. "Poverty."

"Oh."

"Jon . . . Principal Orr," Jane finally joined-in. "Like Sarah said, it was my idea to have her attend classes here during the fall semester. Even though she knows the material and already has her diploma, finally being with her peers in a safe environment could be very beneficial for establishing the necessary social skills she'll need for her transition to a collegiate setting."

Orr sighed. "Well, yes, that makes a whole lot of sense," he said. "But we've never had a student audit classes without any requirements for deliverables. What would the other students think of a newcomer just 'hanging out' while they're doing all the work?"

Sarah grabbed Jane's hand and stood. "Well, there you have it. I told you this wouldn't fly. Thank you Principal Orr for your time and--"

"Hold up," Jane said, using her teacher's voice for emphasis. "We're not done here. What you're saying, Jon, is that if Sarah had something to do or hand-in, you'd be okay with her attending classes?"

"Maybe? What did you have in mind?"

Sarah reluctantly sat back down.

"How about some sort of capstone project? She could pick a topic and then go to certain classes that would help her complete it? That would satisfy your requirement of a deliverable and also be a good excuse to choose when and what to attend," Jane suggested.

Principal Orr bobbed his head from side to side a few times as he thought it over. "Uhmmm . . . that could actually work. Give me a few days to sort out the paperwork and create a list of possible courses," he said, rising from his chair. Extending his hand, he finally smiled at Sarah. "Welcome to New Bedford High, Ms. Corwin."