It wasn’t long before I pulled into an empty parking space, but I couldn’t bring myself to get out. Nerves where a funny thing: the seemed to hide until the perfect moment –the moment they were most unwanted.

But before I could panic, my phone began ringing: Yasmine.

My childhood best friend who had moved to Mythcrest High with me.

In a way, mum telling me that Yasmine and her mum Chrissy would also be joining us on our move to Mythcrest – whether out of solidarity to us each being best friends with the respective person, or to a similar sense of grief and a want for a fresh start after the death of my own dad, I didn’t know – was the only reason I hadn’t completely refused to leave my room and/or ran away out of frustration.

For the first time since I’d first woken up that morning, a genuine smile pulled at my features.

"Hey," her voice picked up, filled with fear and excitement. We really where extremely similar.

"Hi Yas. You almost at school?"

"Already here.” I could almost hear the grin in her words. “I'm standing under one of the trees next to the door."

I didn’t even bother saying goodbye when I hung up, knowing she would be we’d be meeting in a mere matter of seconds.

The anxious part of me almost believed I was being stared at, the beady eyes of students peering and examining me from head to toe. Obviously, nobody really cared – people where too self-absorbed to pay attention to anyone else – but I couldn’t help but suddenly feel extremely self-conscious.

My head darted around with every step, weighing up the new surroundings. Hands slick with a nervous sweat, I tugged at the sleeves of my jumper and pulled them over my wrists, almost as though trying to guard myself from this new normal. Don’t be scared, I told myself strictly. Nobody’s watching you. Nobody cares. You’re just being an idiot.

"Kay!" A voice rung out, and I turned to Yasmine waving like a lunatic, bringing an immediate smile to my face and wrapping a blanket over my shivering heart. I rushed over, wrapping her into a tight hug, her long black hair tickling my face as a buried my nose into her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" She whispered. "You’re sweating, and I don’t think I’ve felt your heart beat this hard since you weere dared to kiss Tyler in the fourth grade.” It was clear she was trying to break the tension hanging in the air, calm the nervous energy dousing ice water over our heads, and I couldn’t help but scoff in pretend annoyance.

Her features scrunched up on her oval shaped-face, making her look deceptively like a mischievous pixie. The almond of her eyes crinkled around the edges, the way it does when she’s clearly trying to get a rise out of me. “Okay, I get it.” She sighed, clearly picking up on my growing worry. “You’re nervous. But stop acting as if I’m going to ditch you, idiot.”

Appreciation swelled in my chest, cheeks puffing out slightly as I smiled widely. I don’t know what I did to deserve a best friend as amazing as Yasmine in my life.

She would never let me feel alone, just the way I’d never let her feel alone either. Not knowing exactly how to express this, I pulled her into another close hug, whispering a small thanks into her ear, and pulling her by the elbow towards the door.

Having Yas by my side distracted me from the erratic pulsation of my heart and the slight trembling in my knees, allowing my breath to take its usual, steady pace.

But then again, I might be suffocated from the stench of BO that hit us the second we entered those doors. It was hanging heavy and still in the air, like a weight that pressed against your skull and assaulted your senses.

This shouldn’t have been a surprise with the bustling of what must have been hundreds of bodies in such a tight space, but I felt suffocated all the same.

Grabbing Yasmine’s arm so I wouldn’t lose her in the crowd, I pulled her to the far back wall, pressing us against it and taking a deep breath (before promptly choking on the rancid air and taking to breathing through my mouth instead).

"It's rowdy in here." Yasmine spoke into my ear; voice stained with disdain. “And smelly.”

I didn’t even have to answer – my opinion was written on my face by the lines in my forehead and the crinkling of my nose. "How about we just go find the office and get our class schedules?”

Anything to get away from this stench and claustrophobia.

Nervously eyeing the room – looking for any sign of somewhere important – I took in my surroundings for the first time: the wall behind us had rows of framed pictures, each with a photo of successful Alumni of the school. This is where the smart and successful people end up. I wondered if anyone else, people who had the achievement of making it through thirteen painful years of school, got any recognition after graduation.

Probably not. People believe success is being the best at something material, not simply being the best at something internal: success is subjective, not societal. I sighed. Society is fucked up.

Trying to ignore my sense of hate towards the memorial – I believed everyone should have the chance to be celebrated, no matter their achievements of outward societal success – I continued scanning my surroundings. The roof was tall, but the limited windows, cramped spaces, and continuous flurry of bodies created something similar to hell. It was almost as though someone has planned to build a castle but created an asylum.

Small circular lights where responsible for lighting up the long hallways – they were the bright white ones, the types of lights that would burn into your eyes and give you a headache. Cream squire tiles had been placed on the floor and looked as though they had once been rather majestic. Now, they were littered with paper, dirt, plastic food wrappers, and even year-old gum. Teenagers.

To my left, there was a long, narrow corridor with blue doors spread evenly on each side, and, at the very end, a set of similar blue shaded double-doors with an unreadable bronze plaque above it.

I nudged Yas, pointing down the hall. "I think that might be the main office, we should go check.” She eyed the flood of people sceptically, so I grabbed her wrists and dragged her in the direction of the probably-office. After running into multiple people, receiving numerous dirty looks, and treading on the toes of miscellaneous strangers, Yasmine and I made it to the door, the bronze plaque reading ‘Administration’.

The handle was smooth, little pressure needed to press it open. The difference was immediate, a wave of cool air washing over me as I stepped over the threshold.

The front office made the rest of the school look like a dumpsite. Large marble tiles adorned the floors, gleaming slightly against the sunlight pouring in through the large window behind the desk, which had timber panelling and a counter to match the tiles. Snowy walls covered our every side, something that may have been boring if not covered in delicately carved frames that held the images of random plants and animals and a carefully carved trim where the wall met the roof.

Black leather sofas had been pressed against each wall, with matching coffee tables standing proudly in front of them. A few people – presumably parents or staff members – were sat on the cushions, appearing to be in some sort of meeting, nursing cups of tea and nibbling on ginger biscuits.

Instead of assaulting me with the smell of teenage boys and shitty lemon detergent, the room smelt of lavender and vanilla, with a hint of something sweeter behind the scents. It was a beautiful contrast, the atmosphere calming me emmediately. Suddenly, I had no reason to be nervous, so I closed my eyes for a few beats, breathed full through my nose, and huffed out contentedly.

Everything was going to be okay.  

"How can I help you?” A woman asked, and I turned to see the lady behind the countre looking directly at me and Yasmine.

She had a tight grey bun, the roots of her hair pulling her forehead back forcefully and smoothing out the majority of her wrinkles. There was not a stray piece of hair in sight, the style seemingly slicked back with what must have been a whole bottle of hairspray. She wasn’t wearing much makeup, except for the unevenly blended concealer and blush, and startling bright red lipstick that was surprisingly neat.

Despite her strict appearance, – all sharp eyes, long red fingernails, and deadly straight posture – her smile made up for it. Her blue eyes glistened beneath her eyelids, brightening up as she smiled with all her teeth.

“Hello." I said, returning her smile. "My friend Yasmine Mai and I are new today, and we need to collect our class schedules," I spoke clearly.

"Oh yes," the woman said, her voice tight and croaky, but pleasant all the same. "You must be Kaitlin Yarrow."

I nodded nervously.

She grabbed a pink folder from the book organizer to her right, shifting through each page until she removed two square-shaped pieces of paper.

"Thank you-" I peeked at the silver name tag pinned to her purple V-neck shirt, reading the words Miss. Mary Craig – Administration and Organisations Officer.  "- Thankyou Miss. Craig."

“No problem, lovelies. Have an awesome day.”

After thanking Miss. Craig again, and passing over Yasmine’s timetable, I inspected my own.

Miss. Kaitlin Stephanie Yarrow 11B            
Roll Call
Period 1: English
Period 2: Drama
First Lunch Break
Period 3: Biology
Period 4: US History                                                   
Second Lunch Break
Period 5: Mathematics
Period 6: Physical Education

Miss. Yasmine An Mai 11B
Roll Call
Period 1: English
Period 2: Italian
First Lunch Break
Period 3: Biology
Period 4: Geography
Second Lunch Break
Period 5: Mathematics
Period 4: Physical Education