"Ah, Ms. Hart. Happy to know you've shown up." Mr. Harriman said as I walked into the hallway that morning.

"Yeah, well, if worse comes to worst," I retorted, rolling my eyes.

   He smiled. "I hope you have a good day, Ms. Hart." And I hope I don't throw up.

"You too, Mr. Harriman," I replied, holding my tongue as I walked down the hallway. I walked to my locker, unlocked it, and pulled out my books. I threw my books in my bag and turned around as the bell rang.

   I scrunched up, hoping no one would hit me while they filed out of class. No one paid attention, and every student who walked past me rammed their sharp shoulders into me like a linebacker. They knocked my books from my hands. The person who walked into me in foot traffic rolled their eyes at me and kept going while I attempted to gather my things. Hence, the word tried. Why are people so rude? They kept walking all over your stuff like it wasn't there.

Aaron happily came to my rescue somewhere in the foot traffic. He started grabbing my things from the floor, even though I didn't ask him to do it and shoved them in my arms as I stood up.

"Here, I'm sorry." He said. I rolled my eyes. You don't just shove stuff in someone's arms. I walked away as he followed close behind.

"Again, there's that thing where you have to be polite, and you—"

"Thank you," I mumbled under my breath.

His eyes widened. "You're welcome," he said. "That's all I needed." I wanted to smack him, but I refrained and kept walking. I went down the hallway through the crowd of students to my classroom.

There were very few students in the room when I entered. The third period was my most quiet class. I didn't have to see Cece or any of her gang.

   I sat in the front row, throwing my feet up on the seat next to me, and sat back. Arthur eyed me as he made his way toward the chair behind me. Samira entered the classroom applying black lipstick on her already blackened lips and sat in the seat three rows behind me.

   Samira used to be one of the popular girls. Shit, she used to date Jeremy. That was until she met Derek. Since then, she's been wearing this goth get-up and scaring out all the boys in this school. She is creepy even just thinking about her. The bell rang, and I threw my feet to the floor.

   Mrs. Smyre walked in carrying her big briefcase in hand. She sat down in her chair, shifting her weight. "Mrs. Hart, I heard you were late to school. Principal Davis wants to see you," she conferred, dismissing me. I grabbed my backpack and got up from my seat. Like, what the hell? Seriously, what is this? Jump on 'Emily' Day?

   I trudged out the door and down the hallway to Mr. Davis's office. Mr. Davis was finishing up a call when I walked in. He hung up the phone and gestured for me to sit down.

"How's your mom?"

"Good, I guess." I deadpanned.

"Your grades are perfect compared to the other students. Why don't you join a club or something?"

   I thought I was failing most of my classes for a while because I could barely stay present, but my test scores were straight A's. I never thought about telling my mother or any classmate I was a lot smarter than I looked out of fear it would humiliate me. "Why?" I asked him. I didn't want to make it obvious.

"I can't name names, but I'm sure you already know," he replied, placing his hands together on his desk. I licked my lips and slung back in the chair.

"Well, sure, I am," I answered. Shit, did I say that? I did. Do you know if it was too late?

   I bit my tongue hard, letting go when I tasted some blood. "Well, Emily, you're in line for schools like Harvard or USC. Have you thought about where you're going?" he said, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.

"No," I lied. My father went to Harvard when I was just a baby, and I always wanted to follow in his footsteps. He wanted to be a lawyer but opted to be a paramedic. A damn good paramedic, too, but things didn't work out as planned. He was in that building that took many lives during nine-eleven—a victim of the tragedy. I never really knew my birth father, but I heard he was a hero. I looked around the room anxiously and bit my lip.

"Well, I'll have to make a few phone calls, but I can get something in line for you next year," he said. I nodded my head. "But I need to see an improvement in your attendance and behavior.

   Yep, no turning back now. I watched Davis scribble my name on a piece of paper next to what looked like Cecelia and Aaron. Well, shit. I should have known.

   I got up and walked away. Mr. Davis's phone rang again. I watched him through the window as he jumped for it while scrubbing his glasses. He dropped his glasses and the phone simultaneously and dove under the desk. I laughed, watching him battle the tangled mesh of the phone cord wrapped around his chair wheel as he rolled, trying to find his glasses, and yelled, "Hold on," over and over to the person on the other line.

"What are you looking at?" Aaron's deep voice boomed behind me, causing me to jump.

"Fuck, Aaron. You could have given me a heart attack," I shoved him. He laughed, smirking like the Cheshire cat, and held something in his hand.

"I found your notebook. Or at least what's left of it. You left it in Mrs. Smyre's class, and she, who must not be named, got to it." I laughed. That was a classic Voldemort reference. I'd love to frame that one. I snatched my notebook and wandered past him down the hallway.

"I'm not even going to expect anything from you," he called as I was halfway down the hall.

"Thanks," I yelled back.

"You're welcome," he said. The overhead bell rang that moment, and I rolled my eyes, dodging students emerging from the classrooms. I lost Aaron in the crowd of students. Instead, I heard a scream from none other than Cecelia as a group of students huddled around the student bulletin board.