John stood at the front door of the school, staring uneasily past the glass. It was a whole different world in there – a world with learning, and community, and diversity. He wasn't used to something like that. In fact, he was only a tyke when his parents passed away and he was placed in an orphanage. With one step, he could get away from his life of suffering and loss and replace it with inspiration and brilliance.

John inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and pinched his cheek. When he looked again, he was still in the same spot before the school. John couldn't help it; this idea of a school had always been so surreal to him. The headmistress of the orphanage, Greta, was a nasty woman who had refused him an education. So, John had taught himself at the library. Now here he was, standing at a high school and going in as a freshman even though he was a year younger.

John burst through the doors, an eager smile on his face and a spring in his step. Immediately after he winked at the security camera (winking was cool,he'd been told), he tripped. He heard someone snicker beside him. John flushed and gathered his binders before hurrying into the office.

"Hello," a plump woman with curly grey hair greeted him. "You must be John Smith, the boy from the orphanage."

"Well, yes." John said proudly, fixing his bright red bow tie. "How did you know?"

"Word spreads like wild fire 'round here." She smiled at him and handed him a paper. "Here's your schedule. You've got World History first, dear. Room 203. Homeroom's already started, so you're a bit late. But no pressure to the new students!"

"Thank you, madame." John gave her a nod before turning out of the office and into the corridor. The floors were white with tiles of color every other step. The lockers were a topaz-ish sort of green, and the ceilings were high. He bounced down the hallway, peering at the locker number on his schedule.

"506," he whispered to himself. "Sounds easy enough!" He glanced at the locker numbers as he walked past. 123, 156, 209... The numbers didn't seem to be in any logical order. John frowned, too busy looking at the numbers to tell where he was going. Soon enough, he was lost in the 1000's, somewhere on the second story. And still, there wasn't anyone in sight.

John contemplated whether he should ask for help or not. Then again, who would he ask? John dropped everything on the floor but his schedule. He kept that in his hands, turning it this way and that as if it would tell him how to find his lockers. John huffed and ran a hand through his light brown hair.

"Great," he sighed. Maybe I should just walk into a lesson and learn whatever they are. I mean, it'll be fun, if nothing else. Still, this wasn't how John pictured school going.

"Hello, sweetie," a voice said behind him. He whirled around in a panic.

"Sorry!" he cried. "I got lost, I can't find my locker or-" John stopped when he saw that there wasn't a cross professor behind him, but rather a gorgeous young woman. "Oh. Hello."

"I saw you trip at the front of the school." Her ruby-red lips curled into a smile. She had wild, dark blonde curls running down her back, and sparkling hazel eyes, which grazed down John's figure, drinking him in. "You know, one of the things I like about this school is that there isn't a uniform." She remarked.

"Y-Yes. I took the liberty of-"

"Wearing a bow-tie?" She interrupted. "It looks silly. And suspenders?" The girl held out a manicured hand and took hold of one of the cords. "You're funny, aren't you?" She pulled John towards herself before releasing the cord and letting it snap back.

John flushed. "It's meant to be cool. Bow-ties are cool."

"No, they aren't." She said, looking subdued. "Mind you, it does somehow work with that outfit. But they're still only as cool as that flippy hair of yours." She held out her hand. "My name's Melody Pond."

John touched the hair hanging down in front of his eyes before slowly taking her hand. "John Smith."

"So, you're lost?" She asked. John nodded nervously.

"Can you help me find locker-" he glanced at the paper, "-506?"

"Of course I can." Melody said, rolling her eyes. "But I'm not going to. If you want a locker, just use one of these." She motioned to the row of lockers lining the hall.

"Those all have built-in locks. I don't have the combinations."

"Locks are so overused nowadays." Melody remarked. She turned and twiddled with the lock for a few seconds before it popped open.

"Is that your locker?" John asked. "I couldn't possibly share."

"It's not mine, no. And you don't need to share." Melody reached in the locker, pulling out a stack of books and a fresh, new-looking bookbag. "See? It's all ready, just for you."

"Um..." John bit his lip. This girl was either mad, daft, or downright rude. "I'd rather find my own locker. Thank you, but... I really should be going now."

John turned away from her, cheeks slightly pink. He hurried through the hallway, down the stairs, and threaded through the maze-like hallways until he thought that she wouldn't be able to find him. When he turned around, he sighed in relief – she hadn't been following him.

John looked up. All the corridors were completely identical, and the only thing that told him whether he had been here before or not were the locker numbers. John smiled at the locker straight ahead of him.

"506!" he sang quietly, rapping his knuckles on his very own proper locker. He carefully spun the lock until it opened. The sides of the metal space were bare and slightly rusty, but John still puffed up slightly, a strange sort of pride blossoming in his chest. "Where do I begin?" he muttered, rubbing his hands together and dropping his bookbag. He began to unpack it. Just as he slid his biology textbook on the top shelf, he heard a low whistle. John dropped his book and whipped around, hands held up as if he were going to karate-chop somebody.

"I've never seen someone so excited over a locker," Melody chuckled. John's hands wavered slightly, but he didn't put them down.

"How did you find me?" he demanded.

"You poor little idiot," Melody cooed, ruffling his hair slightly. "You already told me your locker number." She tapped the metal tag on his locker that spelled '506'. "Well, your assigned locker anyway. How dull."

"Unlike you, I like to follow the rules," John said crisply.

"Like I said, dull," Melody said. "Anyway. What's with the karate arms?"

"It's a defensive stance," John said.

"Doesn't look very effective."

"It is, actually. Very effective. Proven to be the most defensive in the world."

Without a word, Melody grabbed one of his arms and twisted it behind his back. She expertly caught his other arm and pulled it backwards. John yelped.

"Liar." Melody released him and folded her arms. John rubbed his shoulder and frowned, a blush burning on his cheeks. He didn't know what to say, and honestly, he was too embarrassed to say anything anyways. Melody simply gave him a piercing stare. She gave him a prolonged, playful simper before she walked away, disappearing around the corner.

Reluctantly, John knelt down to pick up his biology textbook. His cheeks were still flushed, and his mind reeled.

"Melody Pond," he murmured. "You are one strangely captivating girl."