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It is Monday. The day that Jade has been dreading the entire weekend. She didn't feel ready to face, what seemed like the world, without her sister by her side. She sits back into the leather seating of her sister's car, trying to see if a nap would make this nightmare go away.
Jade values her academics, but the only thing that didn't sit well with her, were her peers. There was always some sort of disconnection between her and the other students her age. She doesn't know if it's her shy personality or the simple fact that she hates social interaction.
The Jeep comes to complete stop, causing Jade's heart rate to ramp up out of no where. She knows that she has to get out of the car and face her demise, but she isn't ready. She squeezes her eyes shut, as a way of trying to see if this is all a dream. Sadly, it isn't, once her eyes flutter open.
"Fuck~," She densely breathes out, frustratedly lifting herself from her inclined position in the car seat. She grabs her jet-black retreat backpack and places it in her lap. On the backpack, there is skull Jade drew in the ninth grade with liquid white-out. It's considered to be one of Jade's few masterpieces.
"Come on, Jade. It won't be that bad," Melanie says as an attempt to convince her younger sister that it would be okay. "Think about all the cute guys that you could flirt with," Melanie says glancing over at her younger sister with smiling eyes, genuinely excited for her.
Jade shivers as the thought of being with a boy crosses her mind. She is becoming tired of this pointless conversation so she grabs the handle of the door in order to escape. She rather go through the gates of hell than talk about being with a boy.
Jade slings the backpack over her right shoulder as she stands in front of the silver-painted prison before her. The clusters of cliques are apparent outside of the school. As Jade observes her peers, she can't help but feel a bit lonesome.
She continues her trek towards the front of the school. She grips onto the metal handle of the main entrance and a gust of air hits her as she pulls open the heavy door.
The roaring sound produced by the bunches adolescents in an enclosed space fills her ears.
She pulls out the schedule she received when she first came to register for her new school. Her first period read: Mrs. Rodriguez AP Philosophy 6-213
Lucky for her, she has no idea where that classroom is. The illustrated map on the back of the schedule isn't of much use.
She looks up, desperately searching for any hallway indicators, since her stubborn tendencies prevent her from making the wiser decision of asking someone for help.
There is a large painted black number five that she spots to her left. She takes a trip down that hallway and is unable to find a way to the six hallway. She looks completely lost as she looks back and forth from her left to her right. Others observing the astray teenager from the outside, probably thought she was a freshman that still couldn't get the hang of finding their classes.
