Curiousity

I slowly but surely entered my first class, sighing at the amount of seats already taken. Stepping over the piles of backpacks down the aisle as the bell rang, I finally got to a seat in the far back of the room. Thankfully, this teacher didn’t seem to find the need to shout out my name and make a whole deal about an introduction. I honestly did hate it when teachers did that. But, despite how pleasant it had started, it ended just as quick when the teacher announced, “Welcome to Advanced Algebra II, class. I am looking forward to a good year.” Two words that wrung in my ears from that sentence are still burning - Advanced and Algebra. Damn, did my parents really need to sign me up for advanced in any sort of math class? Running my fingers through my long straight hair in frustration, I pulled out my class list for the rest of the year.

First:: Advanced Algebra II
Second:: Advanced Creative Writing 11
Third:: Latin I
Fourth:: American History 11
Fifth:: Lunch (30 min.)
Sixth:: Lunch (30 min.)
Seventh:: Psychology of the Human Mind
Eighth:: A Chapella Choir
Ninth:: Guitar Music Theory III

Really now? Everything basically is advanced, except the foreign language, though that’s kind of a ‘Thank God!’ statement for. Though it does suck, at least my mother did take into somewhat consideration about what I wanted to take for some of my classes. And, I’m good at English. So…not to worried about that. But it’s the Algebra I’m worried about, ugh. Well, I just have to deal with it now, don’t I?

Though, as I was daydreaming about my classes and well, him, I felt a sharp and painful poke on my arm. Looking over at the right from where the abuse was coming from, I saw a girl with long black hair, bright blue eyes, and a perfect smile. ‘Awkward much…?’, was all I could think of as she kept smiling at me. “You’re the new girl right? Eve, was it? Well, if it matters my name is Alex, but call me Spell.”, she said in a sweet tone. Somehow, she didn’t seem as preppy as the other girls. ‘Wait, oh my god, there’s non-preps here?’, I laughed silently to myself in my cranium. “Yeah, and thanks for getting my name right Al- Spell. Glad someone does.”, I laughed silently to her back.

We talked for the rest of the hour, thankfully making the hour go a lot faster than what it would have been. She had told me the reason her nickname was Spell is because she was a wicken -- or in other words a girl who believes and practices, in a way, witchcraft. I was cool with that, even though my mother would have a bird if she knew. Well, that’s just how she is. If me or my friends (or even the world for that matter) doesn’t agree with her outlooks, everyone is wrong. She is always right. Uh-huh, sure. But, that’s just how it is.

As we walked down the hallway, we examined each others classes. Amazingly, we had Algebra, Creative Writing, American History, Lunch, Psychology, Choir, and Guitar together. Odd. I thought that most schools didn’t really do the whole ‘put the same people in a whole bunch of their classes together’. Not that I’m complaining, Spell was awesome. I am just glad I found someone to be friends with during the year.

…So, since it was starting off so well, it cant really end that badly…

…can it?