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Of Flight And Sight: Part 3
I moaned. He was attracting stares to me, a girl who some may have seen before. I covered my face, hiding the fact of whom I was.
"Don't be nervous!" He laughed.
"I need to be!"
"Because." I huffed. I can't tell someone what I can do, especially a rumor-spreading popular kid!
"Why?" He urged again. We were passing the tree, and many people were looking at us, confused why he had such a close touch.
"Because! Isn't that an answer?"
"Yeah, but not a good one!" He pointed to a building that we were approaching. "Anyway, this is where your homeroom and first period is, ELA. Second floor, to the left, room 211B." I smirked.
"And your second period is over there." He pointed to the locker rooms.
"I thought I had PE sixth."
"You do, choir is behind it. Room 143 with Ms. Swing. She's a good teacher."
"What does she look like?" I asked. No need to wait till I get there.
"Blonde green-eyed beast. Love's red lipstick. Can't work without it." I laughed. Like me with my hair.
"Third, science in room 147 with John Smith. Nice dude, but a bit kooky. Said the only reason he's still teaching is he's waiting for his 'time machine'. We all know those things don't exist!" I shivered, I don't know why I did. I think I can find my own classes.
"Oh, are you cold?" He draped his arm over my shoulder. I glared at him. He's just trying to get me spoken about.
"No, I'm fine." I tried to grab his hand and push it off, but he resisted.
"Fourth is math with Einstein. Seriously, that's his last name."
"Where is that?" I groaned. People are pointing at me! I can't be spoken about.
"Three doors down from 211B. Room 204 if I remember right."
"Ha, and fifth, if you still feel the urge to tell me?" I glanced at his face, and he was smiling down at me. And by down, I mean four inches.
"What the heck are you doing?"
"Making you the talk of the town, because you hate it so much." I glared at him.
"Ugh, just what's fifth?"
"Fifth! Ah, have fun with that. You have sign language with Crouch, evil dude. Doesn't accept anything under a B."
"And how is that bad?"
"Because if you fail one project, he kicks you out! That's why I got moved to culinary." He pointed to himself, pleased. Not the best idea to be boasting at that.
"What's my sixth, pretty boy?" I poked him, hoping that it hurt.
"Sixth is your PE, of course! The school said they had no idea what sport you were good at, so they tossed you in the brothers track class, D. and S. Winchester."
"So now you know my schedule! Congrats!" I glared at him. Was he done now?
"Yup! And we have homeroom together, so lets go!" He grabbed my hand and started running, just as the bell to go to class rang.