I shouldered my bag firmly and did a last-minute check on myself. Just this morning I had discovered that the price tag was still stuck on my newly bought Uniqlo T-shirt. I sure didn't want any embarrassment on my very first day of school.

The last few days had been hectic to say the least. The minute after revealing my newest task my father had gone right down to business. I was to go ghost, and any tie I had to Blackcroft was temporarily severed. If I was caught by anyone that was not a Blackcroft - my school teachers or the local police or maybe a rival empire - I was to say nothing. If I was caught by a Blackcroft I was not to say anything about my father and my brother. The story the Blackcrofts knew was that I had run away, because I was sick of being undermined due to my gender. Which wasn't exactly untrue. The story I was going to tell my new - actually my first - school was that I was a student that had decided to transfer just six months before I graduate. Why? "Family complications". Which again, wasn't exactly untrue.

My father bought me two phones, one to wave in front of my new friends and one serving only to contact him. Every three days, six o'clock in the evening. I asked him, "Why not five?". He told me he was considering changing the runaway story to the eloped story. I decided to shut up.

I packed what little possessions I had into a suitcase and we departed early one morning under the guise of him leaving for work. And yes, I was hiding in the trunk of the car. He let me out at a lonely bus station and without even a wave goodbye, drove off - and that was it.

I was alone in the big bad world for the very first time.

I managed to make my way to my destination with no problem. Scouted around the school for a while, getting a bit of a feel for it. It was clean, large and white, with the American flag waving proudly up high. Seemed okay. But then again I've never been to a school before. Every lesson I had had was done in secret, and I doubted they would appear on Pambrooke's syllabus.

Then I went to the apartment my father had chosen for me. He'd paid a six-month rent up front and the landlady must have thought it was going to be some sort of a rich family, because she looked quite disappointed to see me. I faked some sob story about rich-dad-always-not-around-and-have-gotten-used-to-being-on-my-own and she seemed to buy it.

I later learned that the apartment was just an average type of accommodation, but to me who had always lived in a bedroom it was the epitome of luxury. I spent half an hour examining every nook and cranny, running my fingers in awe over the walls. I then went out and hit the mall nearby, spent half an hour walking and watching, and when I was finally confident enough - went shopping. I did a pretty decent job of pretending to be normal if I may say so myself, and only fumbled a little with the trolley. I obtained just about everything on my checklist - food, sanitary supplies, all the basic necessities. 

I even got myself a yellow pillow and bolster; they were from the same set, and both had goggles drawn on it. One had one eye while the other had two. The salesperson told me they were a cult phenomenon known as "Minions".

I was queuing up to pay and was already in line, when my Minion pillow fell off the cart. I bent down to pick it up, and when I drew myself back up someone had cut into the line in front of me, taking my spot. It was a pompous-looking man in a suit, with a high forehead and a nose that stuck up permanently in the air.

I didn't even bother to argue. I had long learned that the word of men was law, and the less you resisted the better it was for you. So I placed my Minion pillow back quietly and followed behind him. It must have been about ten seconds when -

"Excuse me, sir. I do believe you - accidentally - took the lady's place." The voice came from somewhere in front but I couldn't see him, my line of sight was blocked by the man in the suit. Though the words were brave, I could hear the undercurrent of hesitation beneath it.

"Really?" The man in the suit scoffed loudly. "And do you have witnesses?"

Silence.

"See? You have no proof! Now shut up and move along. You're jamming up the line."

I thought that was the end of it. A courageous but ultimately futile attempt. I was a little surprised though, that the voice had belonged to a male. Why would a guy jump to a girl's defense?

And then to my even greater surprise the voice returned. This time firmer, with an increased volume.

"Sir, I also believe that you were guilty of assault. In order to - er, move faster in the check-out line, you pushed the lady violently to the ground, causing her to fall backwards. She might be suffering from internal bleeding, and could sue you for damages."

I did? I am? I will?

The man in the suit spluttered. "What? That's - that's outrageous! I most certainly did not do that!"

"Do you have witnesses to prove your innocence?" the voice challenged.

Oooh.

"Because the lady has one. She has a witness that will testify that you committed unjust conduct against her, and that witness - is me."

The man in the suit muttered something ungraciously under his breath, and then to my amazement, moved back to let me pass! I stared at him, stunned, mouth agape. A man giving way to a woman. Unthinkable. Maybe I really should run away to here.

By the time I gathered my wits enough to push the trolley forward and mumble my thanks, my defender was already walking out of the store. I caught a glimpse of curly brown hair and a leather watch. He seemed to be having glasses on, but I couldn't be sure.

I went home with my purchases, unloaded and unpacked. Then I fell to my bed, exhausted but oddly liberated, before drifting into a dreamless sleep.

Now I stood in front of the high school doors and mentally reviewed my plan. I had done some Googling and it turned out high school too had it's own empires - The Populars and The Nerds. If I was going to make this work I had to stay unnoticed. I couldn't be popular then, for obvious reasons. But I couldn't be a nerd either, because I didn't want to get bullied, and getting splashed with orange juice and tripped in the hallway didn't seem like the recipe to stay unnoticed.

So the conclusion was, I had to do a balancing act and slip myself somewhere in the niche area between both. Just enough to get by. Nothing more and nothing less. Don't go the two extremes. Stay in the middle.

I took a deep breath, and squared my shoulders.

I can do this.

Stay unnoticed.

Stay undercover.

I walked forward, through the opened doors, and almost immediately crashed into someone.

Oops.