Surprisingly, we got to North-Winds High on time. The parking lot was partially filled, but Jason told me Seniors get to have their own assigned parking spaces.

So, we parked, and I hopped out of the Jeep, shutting the doors and yelling a halfhearted goodbye to Jason before he could even turn off the ignition and get his own backpack from the backseat.

You know those cliché scenes where a new girl arrives at a new school and somehow everyone just turns their attention at her because she’s new, and they’ve never seen that face before? Yeah, that doesn’t happen in real life. I realized that after my third move.

Sure, you get glances, but nobody thinks “Oh, she must be new, I’m now either entitled to be her arch nemesis, or best friend or boyfriend.” Okay, maybe someone thinks that, but definitely not everyone.

You see, I learned how easy it was to blend into high school. All you had to do was act like you’ve been there for a while, avoid the people that throw curious glances at you and just act normal. High school isn’t a women’s book club. Everybody doesn’t know everybody…

I tightened the straps of my backpack and ran straight to the double doors, avoiding pummeling through cliques and groups, geeks and nerds and insecure loners who seem to always think everyone is focused on their lack of social life.

I followed the directions, without asking a single student for help, and found the Principal’s office, where I was to get my time table for classes, rule book, and other unnecessary items school managements are always bothering students with.

The secretary showed me into the small office, decorated like a regular high school office you see on teen movies. The space was particularly neat, and the balding man sitting on the office chair that looked cozy and comfortable smiled up at me.

“Have a seat, Miss Kellerman.” He said, motioning to one of the wooden chairs in front of him.

“Thank you, Sir.” I said, taking a cautious seat.

The little framed placard on his desk read ‘Principal Donald Pikes.’

“Welcome to North-Winds High, Miss Kellerman. I was expecting you a bit earlier. Please take note that we don’t tolerate tardiness here.” He began.

“I’m sorry Sir, I had a little issue…” I started, jumping to my own defense as always. Admitting my late behavior was like admitting defeat to me. No matter how late I was, I always found an excuse. And I didn’t really care if the excuse was a made-up lie. Most times, it is.

Principal Pikes cut me off, continuing with his speech as if I didn’t even utter a word, which annoyed me greatly. Already, I had classified him into a fascist bastard for this particular reason. I simply droned out whatever he was saying, until after a minute or so of saliva escaping from his mouth and onto his polished desk, he handed me the envelope containing my class schedule, rule book, and what not.

“See your councilor before class.” He said.

“Thank you.” I murmured and left the office, thankful for not getting my face sprayed by his saliva which had surprising velocity and accurate angle.

The hallways were starting to clear out, as the first bell rang; students pushing through each other to get to their various classes. I contemplated getting to Chemistry class first, and then meeting my councilor during the lunch hour, but I thought about first impressions and decided to see the Mrs. Williams I was referred to.

I could be able to make it to class before the tardiness bell rang, if I dropped into her office quickly and introduce myself. Plus, she’ll probably let me go as quickly as possible so I wouldn’t be late for class.

I found her office and knocked twice, then waited for permission.

A curt voice called “Come in.” And I opened the door and stepped inside. It felt like being teleported to a psychic shop. There wasn’t any desk and chairs, but beanbags and rugs. Lots and lots of rugs, covering the whole surface of the office. The place smelled like lavender and a heavy scent of incense that I couldn’t distinguish.

A petite plump woman sat on the rug, in the center of the space, doing the yoga doggie pose.

Was I in the wrong place?

“Erm… Mrs. Williams?” I asked with confusion.

“That’s her.” The woman replied.

I stood there dumbfounded for a second. She didn’t say anything else and continued on with her yoga poses, not acknowledging my presence. I was thinking of silently leaving the office before I became late to class when she abruptly stopped her yoga.

“You’ll get a tardiness slip if you don’t get to class in three minutes sweetie. Here…” she said, getting up from the floor and grabbing a disposable cup from a pack nearby. She poured hot black coffee into the cup and handed it to me, motioning me out without another word.

Guess I’ll have to come back after classes. Or for a change of councilor cause honestly, she freaked me out. I liked the psychic and hippie vibes, but it was damn weird how she interacted with me.

Cup of coffee in hand, I ran to my locker in the now mostly empty hallway, looking for number 68 in the long line of lockers. I tried to balance the cup of coffee and stop it from sloshing around as I ran, but a bit of it spilled on my hand and I winced. It wasn’t scorching hot, but it was warm enough to sting a little.

I followed the numbers;

Sixty-five.

Sixty-six.

Sixty-seven…

I abruptly stopped in my tracks, the sole of my sneakers squeaking on the shiny floors of the hallway.

The first thing I noticed was the cocky mocking smirk. And then I noticed the good looks. Now, I have to be honest with you… moving from town to town, city to city, my whole life, I’ve seen some pretty remarkable specimens of human beings. I’m talking really good-looking people that make you question what genes mutated together to form them, and make you feel like a potato. But this guy… He kinda tops the list.

There was something about the droopy raven black hair that lazily dangled in front of his steel grey eyes which where sizing me up and calculating the movement of my blood under my skin. Or at least I hoped that was what they were doing.

They should’ve cast him as Damon in The Vampire Dairies. Which is saying something because Damon is my favorite character and if I was willing to cast Ian Somerhalder away for this one, well, you know shit is real.

“Are you new here?”

God! British accent. I could die at this moment. Yes, I admit it. I’m an aesthete. Most people pretend to not be affected by beauty, but I admit it. Beauty is effective, no matter how hard you try to be partial about it. But just because I appreciate beauty, doesn’t mean I let people know their beauty affects me.

“Yes, move. You’re blocking my locker.” I said, in the most bored tone I could muster. I had temporarily forgotten about class but hearing the tardy bell ring made me remember. Late on the first day, as always. By now, it was practically a tradition for me and for every new school I get transferred to.

“I know…” he replied.

I glanced at this handsome idiot and sighed. I had an experience… okay no, I had countless experiences with high school bullies and people who tried to show in some way that they held some kind of power. In most cases, they don’t. They’re just idiots who still hold on to the dead cliché dreams of being ‘in charge’ of the school.

“Look here, potential asshole. I’m late to class, so move before I shove you.” I threatened, cracking my knuckles as if I was getting ready to throw a punch or shove him.

There was no way in hell I would be able to even push this guy an inch away from my locker, but I made the threat anyways, because in some cases, it works.

The potential asshole snorted. The cocky smirk turned into a wide smile, and he pushed up from my locker which he had been previously leaning on and walked towards me until he was glaring down at me like I was a gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

I swear I’m tall… on average, I am considered taller than most girls of seventeen. But compared to potential asshole, I was like Frodo standing next to Legolas.

“Do you have any idea who I am, sweetheart?” he asked, breathing down on my head, his eyes glaring daggers at my own.

Now here’s the thing with me and personal space… Three inches around me, there exists a fictional bubble, which people can’t see. But mostly, they feel it, because the moment someone infiltrates this fictional bubble, I instantly jump into fight or, and sometimes… and flight mode.

So, this is the only logical explanation I have for what I did next.

My feet, on their own accord, got on my tiptoes, and I lifted the cup of coffee up to his head, and in an instant, emptied the contents into his hair.

Fight mode was over, it was time for flight.

I took off, smashing in my combination in the lock and swinging it open to stuff my backpack inside, taking only the Chemistry textbook and notebook I needed. With quick reflexes, the locks were put back into place and I ran straight for class, leaving douchebag standing there with coffee in his hair, still trying to process my awesomeness.

It was definitely not the first impression I was going for, but it was a first impression he deserved.