"Last time a student broke an arm."

That deep and cold voice definitely suited the man donating it. Unlike Steve he wasn't as muscular but he was just as tall. Long black hair and a beard covered his pale face. That old fashioned suit definitely made him look like a principal, it was probably him. 

I immediately got off the windowsill. Unlike that pretty blond girl that man seemed to hold a presence that sent shivers down my spine. As he was unlocking the office door with a medieval like key he glanced down at the newspaper I was holding with his owl like eyes.

"Do you enjoy reading, Ms Joeng?"

"Define enjoy."

He smiled to himself as I basically drowned in my own sweat. Usually I wasn't afraid of an authority figure, but something about him made me nervous.

He opened the door and held it open for me. I quickly walked in and the interior was somewhat chilling. Walls covered in shelves stacked with books, the huge windows covered with curtains and a dark wood desk in the middle of the room with a classic old fashioned tall desk chair. Why do people even need to have such tall seats? No one is that tall, not even Mr Lamb. Looking around I wouldn't spot one single speck of dust or dirt, everything was super clean.

He gestured for me to sit down in one of the seats in front of his desk. He wanted me to sit down so this probably wasn't going to be the short chat I had imagined. 

When we were both seated he took out a file and looked through it before looking up, or well down at me. I already knew what he was going to ask first. How is it like being a foster kid, Fifi? They always did in one way or another.

"Firstly, I would like to know how you're doing. Must be difficult settling into a new family and a new school."

Bingo, there it was. I just shrugged, not really interested in thinking about my answer for too long: "I got used to it."

"Hm, Resilience is one of the best strengths a person could have. Ask Aaron Antonovsky.", he pointed to one of the bookshelves behind me. 

I couldn't tell which exact book he was pointing at but I also didn't really care. He picked up a pen and scribbled something on a piece of paper before sliding it over his desk towards me. I picked it up. Looked like a schedule.

"That's your class schedule. You're in class 9a. Very well behaved kids, you should fit right in."

Me? A well behaved kid? Did Mr long beard even look at my previous school records? I just skimmed through it but stopped at the handwritten block on the schedule. 

Wednesday, that day, was until 15:00 and the additional class was called: "TNC?", I asked.

"It's the middle of the year and all the other clubs are full. But I can imagine you will like it there."

Oh. So it's a club. I looked up at him. He looked back and realised I was waiting for him to tell me what club it was.

"The News club."

The News Club? Are you serious? That's like the lamest club name ever and what they did in there was probably even lamer. Why couldn't it have been a "go home early" club or something? Who even wants to stay at school until 15:00? They will probably make me read or worse, write.

It was already the first break time when I came out of principal Lamb's office. Students were walking down the halls, talking and sometimes laughing. That's one thing I missed about school, having someone to talk to. Was it even worth making friends? I was probably going to leave that town sooner or later. Why not spare myself the heartbreak again. As I turned a corner I almost bumped into someone. It was a girl, around my age, holding a plate of cookies.

"Ah, there you are. Cookie?", she smiled.

There you are? Was she looking for me? I didn't even know who that girl was. I just hesitatingly took a cookie and looked at her. Expecting her to elaborate.

"You're the new kid, right?"

"Yeah.", I chewed. It was good, a bit too sweet for my liking but definitely better than anything I could make myself.

She smiled again: "Well, I'm Lola and if there is anything you need you can find me in class 9b."

She gave me a big smile before glancing down at my schedule that I was holding. 

There was an awkward moment of silence between us before she suggested: "You probably don't know where your class is, let me show you."

Before I could agree she took me by the shoulder and started walking with me down the hall. I ripped myself away from her grabs, and almost like I didn't just show to her that she invaded my personal space, she kept walking like nothing happened. I never liked getting touched or grabbed by others, especially by total strangers.

She stopped by a door and looked over at me: "Here it is. Good luck!" 

Just as fast as she introduced herself she was gone into the crowd. She seemed nice, although a bit touchy. Her long red hair almost reached to her hips, it probably did but since she had braided it you couldn't really tell. It just swung back and forth as she happily walked away. I bit the second cookie I took without her knowledge and walked to my class.

I peaked my head inside the classroom. It was pretty small, only like 12 desks. Which meant the teachers would probably make it their mission to ask every single student something in a lesson. Maybe they would give me a break on the first day. 

Every desk seemed reserved besides one, next to a kid reading a book. His glasses were almost bigger than his face. I tapped on the desk and he flinched away from me.

"Is this seat taken?", I asked.

He looked me up and down before shaking his head. He seemed really caught off guard that someone asked to sit next to him. 

Since I was going to sit next to him for the whole school year I might as well ask: "What's your name?"

"B-Bruce."

"Fifi."

Bruce started reading his book again, that gave me the hint that he didn't want to talk anymore. Fine, not like I wanted to anyway. The classroom was pretty welcoming though. Decorations were on almost every wall, from hand cut out colourful flowers to some bright stars. There was even a class picture hung up above the teacher's desk. These kids knew how to make themselves comfy. 

Maybe the school year wouldn't be that bad, I thought, not knowing I would regret thinking that in a few seconds.

As the school bell rang the kids started walking in. Some glared at me while others acted like I didn't even exist, or maybe they just didn't notice me. Just as I thought everyone walked in one last person made their way into the classroom and from the tapping of her heels I should have known who it was. The Blonde girl from before. 

She did a double take when she saw me but quickly composed herself before sitting down right in front of me. Really? Now I have to stare at her perfect hair for the whole school year? At that point I hoped Mrs Welsh would burst in and tell me we were going. She reached into her expensive bag and took out a notebook full of papers and notes. She suddenly turned in her chair to look at me, something that surprised even Bruce. 

She put a bunch of papers in front of me and bluntly said: "Here are my notes. Take some pictures."

Weird of her to assume I needed them, but okay. The people around her looked at us, well at her, as if she was saving a puppy or something. I glanced over at Bruce who quickly got back into reading his book.

"I don't have a phone."

Her lightly curled eyelashes blinked a few times.

"You don't have a phone?", her tone was almost of disgust or judgement. A peasant doesn't have a phone? How peculiar. 

The teacher walked in and Blondie whispered: "Just copy them at home and give them back to me tomorrow."

Before I could answer she already turned around and her full attention was on the teacher. Almost like she was a robot.

Looking at her notes I found what I expected. Words written in a pretty but also readable writing, very organised, with each section being divided into chapters. It still felt weird of her to just decide to give them to me without asking if I even needed them. Her judgmental tone didn't help her seem any nicer, she probably gave them to me to look nice. Based on how she clearly took care of her looks she probably cared a lot about her image.

The lesson felt like a drag. I barely could listen to what the teacher had to say. The teacher did ask me a question to which I obviously didn't have an answer. After the lesson I had to look at my schedule to even realise that it was a History class, for some reason I thought it was English. 

It was time for lunch break and some kids walked out of the classroom while some stayed to eat their lunches at their desks, one of them being Bruce. Still reading his book he ate a nice looking sandwich. Blondie was by the blackboard cleaning it up.

"W-We have class d-duties."

I turned to see Bruce looking at me before gesturing his sandwich at Nathalie. Oh, class duties, got it. Never really cared for those.

"Tell me beforehand when it will be my turn, I'll be sick for that week.", I joked (kind of).

Bruce awkwardly chuckled before continuing to read his book and eat his sandwich. Suddenly another guy started talking to me, well right after bursting into the classroom like he owned the place.

"Fifi!", Philip called out before walking over to me.

I couldn't help but notice he was holding a guitar case in his hand, what I also couldn't help but notice was that Blondie almost immediately looked over at us. He lightly slapped my head with something before placing it on the table, money.

"Forgot to give you this. It's for lunch.", he explained as he leaned on the desk behind him. 

I looked over at the money. It was definitely enough for a lunch, maybe even two. It always felt a bit weird to me to take someone else's money for food, so I just put it in my pocket, something Philip couldn't help but comment on: "Not hungry?"

I shook my head. That was a lie.

He smiled to himself, almost like he was planning something. Glancing around revealed that not only Blondie was trying to secretly watch us, all the other girls were. I look back at Philip. Oh, right. A guy a grade above us, curly dark hair and a guitar? Right, right. I finally understood why everyone was staring at us, well at him. 

He stood up straight and stated:

"Alright, come with me."

"What?"

"You're going to eat with me and Rudoslav."

He already started walking away before I could answer. 

Not like he even asked a question, it was more like a demand. I was hungry and everyone was staring at me which made me even more uncomfortable. Fine, I said to myself. I stood up and followed him out of the classroom. 

Although on the way out just as Philip glanced at the Blondie she quickly looked away and pretended she was cleaning the already cleaned board. Something was going on there.

Nevertheless we walked outside where there were some picnic tables under some trees and a food stall. Philip made me buy "at least" a fruit salad and we sat down at the picnic table where Rudoslav was intensely writing in his notebook.

"I don't get them. Why can't they see that you can't fix art?", he asked as he dropped his pen and bit into the muffin in his other hand.

Glancing at his notebook I could recognize that it was music sheets with notes scribbled throughout the whole page. 

Philip shrugged, not really interested. Rudoslav looked over at me, expecting me to somehow know what was going on.

"Are you two in a band or something?", I asked.

They chuckled, once again like I was supposed to know what was going on. 

I started eating my fruit salad as Philip explained:

"Not really a band. Our school has a music program. Each year the 10th grade gets to perform during the winter ball. This year..."

Rudoslav cut him off: "I'm supposed to write the song but some people can't help themselves and they have to give me input, well I call it slander!"

Philip and Rudoslav seemed to be stuck talking about the "band" and their song. Philip thought that Rudoslav should at least listen to some critics while Rudoslav wouldn't change his mind about it being unnecessary. Their conversation ran in circles so I pulled out the notes that Blondie gave me, at least the time would pass faster if I had something to do, even if it's reading notes that I wouldn't fully understand. 

Suddenly Philip looked over my shoulder and wondered while chewing on an apple: "Nathalie gave you this?"

Before I could respond Rudoslav cut in: "Not everything is about Nathalie."

"It's her handwriting!"

"You can recognise her handwriting?" 

Rudoslav leaned back and put his hands up: "You're hopeless."

Philip annoyingly bit into his apple and chewed: "I was just asking."

There was a few seconds of silence between us before I asked: "Who's Nathalie?"

They both looked over at me in shock.