"Welcome to torture, kid."
I cocked an eyebrow as I ambled through the front doors, passing the particularly rotund, particularly jovial navy-clad janitor who stood just inside the entrance, sonic broom in hand. When he smiled you could see the absence of a good seventy-five precent of his teeth.
Continuing on to the front desk, I waited until the blonde woman with too much makeup finished forcibly discussing the weather with a massive, gray-haired man who had the air of a vice principal about him. I cleared my throat quietly and they both looked up. The most-likely-vice-principal smiled hurriedly then left, seemingly relieved to escape from the scrutinizing gaze of the blonde woman's sparkly, eye shadow-suffocated eyes.
"Ah, now who do we have here? What can I do for you dear?" Her teeth were too white; I wished she would stop smiling.
"I need to get my schedule," I said flatly, refusing to let on how nervous I was. This was the third school I had been to since I started high school, but settling in on a new campus with new students, new teachers, new staff, new classrooms, it never got any easier, no matter what Mom wanted me to believe.
"Ah. New here?"
"Yep." As if to signify my newness - and difference from the other students - I tucked my hair behind my ear. At that time my hair reached long past my shoulders, and was thin, board-straight and chocolate brown with some blonde and burgundy highlights I had gotten with a friend elusive of my mother's knowledge. I watched the woman's gray-blue eyes twitch nervously. It wasn't the four piercings - again, elusive of my mother's knowledge - that adorned my ear. It was the somewhat distinct point. Marking my nonhumanity.
With a nervous smile she turned and began rummaging through a netal cabinet before finally pulling out a dataPADD and practically flinging it at me. Taking the PADD, I nodded to her and made my way across the commons, looking my schedule over.
"You new, girl?"
Startled, I looked up to see the source of the words.
He was easily six foot and had a thin but boyish face. With a chuckle accompanying a wide, kiddish grin he said, "Scared ya? Sorry. No need to get jumpy yet - you haven't met the algebra teacher." He winked. "First time you eat in her class - BAM - office referral."
I couldn't help but smile. This boy was one of those people who just had a good air about them. "Yeah I'm new," replying to his initial question.
"Got a name, girl?"
I grinned; I liked his accent. You didn't hear that many people with his kind of accent anymore - according to my paternal grandfather - and it was catchy; contagious even. "T'Lovok. Sienn t'Lovok. Although my papers say Patterson."
He abruptly extended a hand - nothing was subtle about this boy - and said, "I like that. Real - ethnic, yeah? Romulan?"
I nodded, shaking his hand, impressed that he knew. Of course my pointed ears, upswept eyebrows and green-tinted complexion weren't hints at all.
"Well I'm Colton Weston. You got cold hands, girl, by the way." Did he constantly adress everyone by their gender?
"Bells about to ring guys. I have tardy slips for you if you don't get going right now!" A petite redhead that you could tell was popular in high school strutted by on five inch heels, sharply flipping her perfectly curled hair over her shoulder.
Leaning in so that he was close to my ear but at the same time respecting my personal space, Colton whispered, "That's Miss Cartwright. She teaches geography and government. Don't piss her off - those stilletos can be deadly weapons!" Another wink.
I cocked an eyebrow. "Are there any female teachers in this school who aren't mortally dangerous when angry?"
This evoked a chuckle from him. "Ah, sure. Mrs. Cho is really nice." Grabbing my dataPADD from my left hand he swiftly scrolled through my schedule. "You'll have her for information tech."
Colton was a rather fascinating contrast of colors. His dark brown skin was a stark contrast to the white of his shirt, and his immaculately straight teeth probably glowed in the dark. His eyes were practically black, the same color as the scarce amount of hair he had. Along with his simple white shirt he wore a chain around his neck, camoflouge-printed cargo shorts and athletic shoes that looked like they had never been worn before. Definitely middle class; his clothing was nice enough to suggest he didn't live in poverty, but he didn't have the air of a rich kid. Too. . . down to earth.
"So. . . you a fishy or what? 'Cuz you don't look like a fishy, but I've never seen ya before. . ." By this time Colton and I had traversed the commons and were heading towards the stairs; as we came to the threshold leading to the two staircases - one heading up, the other down - Colton surged ahead and opened the door, holding it open for me. I smiled. He wasn't quite like any human I'd met before. Nice, amusing, pulled off a ghetto accent but sounded intelligent at the same time, as well as gentlemanly.
"Fishy?" I asked, stopping. I had no idea which staircase to take as I likewise had no idea what or where my first block class was; Colton was still in possession of my scholastically-issued PADD. I also had no idea what a "fishy" was. What came to mind were the Chinese fighting fish that my father loved so much, but the cat - aptly named Hunter - always scooped out of the water when no one was home.
"Yeah, fishy. Nickname for freshman."
"Oh." I chuckled. So this school had its own lingo to adjust to. Very nice. "Uh, no, I'm not a. . . fishy." I still had the image of a frilly, flourescent blue fish in my head. "I'm a sophomore."
"Transfer?" Did he ever talk in complete sentences?
"Yep. I came from East Neomarina High," I replied, absently tucking a stray strand of bleached hair behind my ear.
"East Neomarina? Oooh. Boarding school, yeah? That sucks. Why'd ya get a transfer? You get expelled?" Colton raised his eyebrows, obviously greatly anticipating the answer.
"Actually yes," I answered stiffly, then regretted my tone as soon as his face darkened. Trying to lighten the mood again, I remarked, "So if I'm going to like it here so much, how come the janitor said 'Welcome to torture' as soon as I came in?"
That practically blinding grin appearing again, Colton ran one hand over his head, saying, "Eh, he says that to everyone. Just 'cuz he hates it here, he thinks everyone else should to."
He sure looked plenty happy to me, I thought, showing off his lack of dentures.
The bell rang. I winced; East Neomarina High's bell was a soothing noise, rather than the eardrum-threatening clang that echoed throughout the otherwise silent halls, making me think of a klaxon in a starship on red alert. I glared at Colton as he snickered.
"You'll get used to the bell, too. Dang, you might as well be a fishy. C'mon goldfish. We're already late. I'mma walk ya to your first class. Who knows, you might end up on the roof insteada Mrs. Tanner's class if left to your own devices." Flashing me a wide grin to show he was messing with me, Colton lightly punched my shoulder and gestured for me to follow as he started up the flight of stairs.
And so commenced my first day of school at Terra Nova High School, as I walked to Algebra II with the nicest human I had met in high school as of yet, arguing that I was much more bold than a goldfish, until finally accepting the nickname was inevitably going to stick.