Fucking first day of school.

Grade school, elementary school, high school, college: the first day of school is the best day of the year (except the last day of course). You pick out the perfect outfit, catch up with friends you haven't seen all summer, and in college, every class gets out early, since all you ever do on Syllabus Day is go over the syllabus.

Leah had experienced her fair share of first days in her lifetime, and this was her final one. Senior year had finally rolled around and this fall term would be her last. Pro: Seniority means you get the best dorm on campus in the housing lottery. Con: A single room is fucking expensive. Pro: You know it takes exactly 17 minutes to get across campus to the History department. Con: You still have to take classes in the History Department. Pro: There is tons of free food at the Activities Fair tonight. Con: You gotta feed yourself for the rest of term.

Money issues kept Leah up most nights, so she didn't at all appreciate being woken up from the precious little sleep she did get.

From her open window she could hear students filling the quad outside her dorm: chattering, hollering…and someone was playing Top 40 radio obnoxiously loud. Leah squirmed deeper into her sheets, unceremoniously thrusting her phone off her bed. For her, today was just another reminder of how empty her life was: In 183 days, she would be graduating from college, and while other students had friends and family to help them adjust to the real world, land them fancy internships and co-sign on their first apartment,

Leah was on her own.

Since her mother had died when she was young, she had been raised as a ward of her Parish. All she knew was that her mother had been a well-respected leader of the witch community. Naturally she had assumed, and secretly hoped, that someone would show up one day and answer all the questions she had. If her mother was so respected, how could the witch community have let her daughter grow up without a family? But as Leah grew older, she gave up ever learning about her witch heritage; no powers ever manifested, and so as the years passed, Leah began to think that maybe the stories about witch elders and vampire kings and the Mikaelson M that decorated everything in the Quarter—that these stories were just that, stories.

Freshmen year had been rough. Leah blamed it on her sheltered teenage years. It was an adjustment, meeting students from across the country, tackling the difficult course load, and learning that not everything boys said was sincere. There had been a lot of firsts in college, some experiences better than others, but Leah was tough and resilient, or so she would like herself to believe. She took a steely pride in being independent and unattached, but while being on her own had been fine so far, she wasn't so sure she could live like this forever.

After all, forever was a very long time.

Her phone rings again, the opening chords of a folk indie song. Brit Lit 2 is at 10am, across campus. If she times this just right, Leah thinks as she swings her feet over her bed and onto the cool linoleum of her dorm room floor, she can grab coffee at the Grind and not be late.

She makes to check the time, and groans when she realizes she must have knocked her phone off the bed. It's a cheap, pay-as-you-go option, and the back casing cracked and detached when it hit the floor, causing the battery to skid under the bed and the phone to power off.

Leah curses, pulling her strawberry blonde hair from her mouth as she snaps the battery back in place. There is a musical chime as the phone starts up again and the display flashes.

10:15am.

Fuck.

Never mind about the coffee then.

/

Haha, just kidding, she thought to herself thirty minutes later, Coffee's a must.

Leah thanked the barista at the campus' local coffee shop as he handed her a large iced coffee. August in New Orleans was hot, and she worshiped at the altar of iced coffee. A quick glance at her phone showed it to be 10:45am. Thinking it rude (and useless) to show up late on the first day of class, Leah would make it up by arriving early to her next one: European History at 11am.

Leah was a European Studies major. She had received a scholarship, which was the only reason she could afford any college. Sometimes, when she was being especially self-effacing, she liked to call it her "pity prize;" her high school guidance counselor had strong-armed her into writing a super weepy college essay about growing up in an "alternative living situation" and although Leah felt horrible doing so (the group home was run by a nurturing order of Sisters and was actually a wonderful experience), she needed the money for college.

Once, the Sisters of the Holy Cross had taken the older girls to New York City for a field trip. That's where she first found her love of art and language and culture, and after chatting up Sister Elizabeth the entire drive back about Neo-Classical Art and the court of Louis XVI, getting into college and being drowned in these discussions everyday became her life obsession.

And now here she was, ten minutes before class, about to begin the last course she needed to complete her Euro Studies degree.

And after that, when they put that diploma in her hands, then what?

She slurped through her straw absentmindedly until a body plopping into the seat next to her jolted her from her reverie. The body belonged to a honey-haired girl who was wearing the green and blue senior class shirt that the Senior Gift Committee had been pushing on everyone last semester. To be honest, Leah totally wanted one—but sometimes this school forgot that not everyone had $15 to throw around on spirit gear.

Lost in her thoughts again, she stared off into space as the room began to fill with students.

/

T-shirt girl had just responded to a text from an over-protective parent when she realized that she had forgotten her pencil case at home. She remembered, because she also didn't have her phone charger, which was with her pencil case, which was at home on the kitchen table. It's no surprise—first days are a chaotic, emotional mess at her place. You would think every day was the first day of kindergarten—her parents went the whole nine yards—photos and bagged lunches and even hugs. She's 23 and a senior in college and she still has to "text me when you arrive." Moms, dads, uncles, sigh.

Damn, she needs a pen.

Ahh, the girl next to her is nervously biting on the one in her mouth. Perfect, she can borrow a pen from her…not the one in her mouth, but another one.

"Psst, hey."

Leah turns. T-shirt girl wants something. She smiles, pulling the pen from between her teeth.

"Hi," Leah shoots back. Ugh, what does this girl want? She glances at the string of olive and sky beads around her neck, a good sign T-shirt girl's one of those loud, chatty, party girls. The kind who forgot to bring a pen to class, even though it's the only thing you need to bring.

"Can I borrow a pen?"

See?

"Huh, yeah of course." Leah needs the Karma points. She awkwardly bends around her desk to reach her bag. Before she comes back up, T-shirt girls speaks. Ugh, here we go.

"You're a life-saver, first days are always a mess—I'd leave my head at home if it wasn't attached to my body." That's a hybrid joke, not that pen girl knows that, though maybe she does? A weak smile. "I'm Hope."

Leah comes up for air. She hands her the pen.

"Leah St. Ann."

That's it. No commentary? The wheels in Hope's mind whirl. Odd. What witch nowadays couldn't recognize her? Was pen girl from out of town?

"Hey, aren't you in Tudor England too?"

Leah knows she just made a face, but come on, what? How on earth did she know that? Tudor England doesn't even start until tomorrow. Maybe she saw the class roster? It's up on Blackboard. Creeper.

"Yeah, I assume you are too?"

"Yep…ah, this is excellent! We can be study partners!" Hope knew she was laying on the clingy thick, but she was desperate to make this work this time. She laughs, more at herself. "We can share notes, like on class stuff and magic stuff. What's your cell?"

Leah coughs. That last sip of coffee just went up her nose. "What?"

"Cell number? I thought we could swap contact info?"

Leah can't believe what she is hearing. "No, before that…magic….stuff?"

Hope freezes. Shit, she totally read this wrong.

"You're not a witch? Did I read this wrong?"

Leah tries to say something and close her mouth at the same time. Her thoughts come out as a long slow whisper. Some of the students in the seats below turn around at the sound she is making. She doesn't care because…magic stuff? What the fuck did they put in her iced coffee?

A witch?

Is today the day that someone finally shows up and answers all the questions she had?

Stay cool, Leah. T-shirt girl knows you got witch blood in you. How does she know? Can you smell it? Damn, I should have just taken the extra ten minutes and showered this morning.

Stay cool, stay cool.

"I….I…you…yeah…you know about witches?"

Nailed it.

Hope cringes; she's totally botched it already. It's just that she's bad with introductions—who doesn't know a Mikaelson when they see one? She could avoid these awkward situations if she just tried to make normal friends, human friends. It's just that the supernatural ones at least have some chance of gaining her mother's approval. And thanks to her father, she can forget about even thinking about bringing a boy home.

Breathe, Hope. Maybe this is salvable. If pen girl knows who you are, then maybe there's something to work with-if not, it's a lost cause anyway. There's no way she can bring Leah home without her freaking the fuck out and running for the hills, witch or not.

The door to the lecture room opens; the professor walks in and the students' hush. Hope leans back in her chair, turning to whisper to pen girl.

"Find me on Facebook. My name's Hope…Hope Mikaelson.

Come on, pen girl. Know a Mikaelson when you see one.

"Oh holy shit," Leah breathes. Hope cheers internally.

Leah turns to face the blackboard slowly as the professor begins to talk about the syllabus. She's not listening, she's freaking out inside. T-shirt girl is a fucking vampire princess.

The stories are definitely true.