My dad offered to give me a ride to school as it was on his way to work. I accepted, but only because I was running late; I would’ve been quite content on walking my first day, just to gather my thoughts and control my nerves.

“Stop worrying, Sam, you’ll be fine. You’ll make new friends in no time... What’s not to love about you?” Dad attempted on calming me down. It worked only very little. I began to wonder how he knew I was worried in the first place when he answered my unspoken question for me, “You always play with your fingers. You’ve done that ever since you could move... I guess some things you just don’t grow out of.” He smiled brightly at me as we pulled up not far from the school.

I grabbed my bags from by my feet, “Thanks for the ride, dad. I’ll see you tonight.” I climbed out of the car and slipped the bag on my shoulder.

“Good luck today, sweetie. And stop worrying.” I nodded just before he drove away in the direction of the hospital of which he worked.

When I had walked the short way to the gates of Belleville High, I stopped to stare at the large building. It didn’t look too different from my last school, but then again, most schools are pretty similar.

I followed some students into the building in hope that one of them would be going towards reception, which is where I needed to be to collect my timetable, a map, and anything else they feel the need to give me.

“I’ve never seen you around here before.” I jumped at the loud voice behind me. I stopped and turned towards the person responsible for shocking me. The young woman was smiling kindly at me in her dark red lipstick. I only assumed she was one of the teachers that worked here. She held her hand out to me, “I’m Mrs. Hudgens, the school receptionist.”

I took her hand cautiously, “Sam Phillips. I’m new here –“

Mrs. Hudgens nodded quickly, “Oh, of course you are, follow me to reception and I’ll get you started up on your day.” I followed the cheerful receptionist and stopped when we arrived at her desk. She was about to speak before the phone on her desk began to ring. The red-haired teacher held up her finger to signal that she would be just a moment, “Hello, Belleville High School, this is Mrs. Hudgens, how my I help?” She spoke in her formal tongue for the person on the other side of the phone, “Yes, absolutely... of course, it’s not a problem at all... Take care now, bye... Sorry about that.”

I simply nodded as she searched through the student’s files in the cardboard box that sat upon her table, “What was it? Phillips?” I nodded again and told her my file wouldn’t be under ‘Sam’ but ‘Samantha’, “Aha! Here it is, ‘Samantha Alicia Phillips’.” She handed me everything I needed, and possibly a few things that I wouldn’t need and wished me good luck on my first day to which I thanked her.

Eventually, I managed to find my way to my first class, English. Mr. Woodsen, my teacher, was pleased that I turned up at all, and set me down at the back of the classroom away from the staring eyes of the other students.

I discovered that the class would be studying Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’; a book I had read many times and was one of my favorites. Mr. Woodsen was going to be setting a two week assignment focusing on a certain part of the play.

“Okay, class, I want this in two weeks tomorrow, no exceptions.” He told the students as they were all leaving at the end of class. I purposely waited until everyone had gone before leaving myself but Mr. Woodsen stopped me, “How did you find your first class, Samantha? Or do you prefer to be called Sam? Sammy?” He smiled.

I grinned back, “Sam, please. It was okay, sir. I’ve read ‘Romeo and Juliet’ many times before, so I’ll be okay with the assignment.” He nodded and let me go to my next class, which was Art.

My teacher for this class was Mr. Way and I hoped that he would be just as nice as my English teacher and hoped he would help me settle in the school more.

I didn’t know which part of the building was Art, and I hoped that I wouldn’t be late. That wasn’t what I needed on my first day. I just want this day to go as smoothly as possible.

“Hey, are you lost?” A dark girl asked me. I nodded and she giggled at my desperation, “Let me help you, where do you need to go?”

I looked down at my timetable, “Erm… Room 42B?”

The girl nodded, “Oh, that’s cool; I’m going there, too… We’ll have to hurry, though, Mr. Way will kill us if we’re late, and I’m not kidding.” I made a point to walk quick if that was the case and she walked along side me, “I’m Delilah by the way. You’re the new girl, Sam, right?”

I nodded, “Yeah, that’s right.” I furrowed my eyebrows, “But how did-“

“How did I know?.. All of your teachers are told about new students amongst other things. Mr. Way made a big deal about it, he set us this huge project to do last month, a project even Art students at college would find a challenge. I guess he was mad, but then again he always is.” She shrugged.

I shook my head, “He was mad that someone new was coming to the school? And you said he’s always mad?” I had come across over-the-top cheerful teachers, like Mrs. Hudgens this morning, and I had come across strict teachers like one at my old school, but even he had a sense of humor, but if Mr. Way of as bad Delilah made him out to be, he could possibly be the worst teacher I’d ever come across.

Delilah scrunched her face to think of the words she wanted to say, “Well… I don’t know really, but Mr. Way doesn’t seem to fond of change. This isn’t the first time he’s set a ridiculous project… Last year, he set some strange project after he realized he had to teach in a different room… I’m not sure if these things are related to each other in any way, but…” She shrugged again, “I don’t know, maybe he’s got OCD or some shit.”

I raised my eyebrows, thinking that the only form of OCD I knew was the one where people are ridiculously clean, “But you said he’s mad all the time?”

Delilah nodded, “All the time. I’ve never seen him smile, not once, and he’s been my Art teacher since I started here. He never laughs, either. He’s so… angry. He looks as if he wants to punch something… or someone. It’s scary sometimes, but he is a great teacher. And that’s about the only nice thing anyone can say about him and that’s the truth, he lives for Art, you can see it in his eyes when he thinks no one is looking. He wants us to do good in this class although he’ll never admit it.”

Delilah stopped walking. I was about to ask why when I realized we were at 42B. The yellow door was closed and Delilah sighed, “We’re late. Mr. Way normally keeps the door open until class begins and finishes. The rest of the time he keeps it closed… Get ready for it, Sam.” She went to put her hand on the door knob.

“Wait!” Delilah looked at me, confused, “What happens if someone is late to class?”

She shrugged, “Don’t know… No one’s ever been late… It’ll be a surprise for everybody.”

Delilah twisted the door knob, and slowly, we walked inside.