“Thank you, Ms. Rice, I’ll see you after rehearsal. And, please don’t forget about-“<br/><br/>“Nicholas. I have a croissant and an orange juice set back just for him. Now get going, before you’re late.” The old woman smiled, waving a hand to shoo her away. Charlotte checked her watch, groaned, then ran out the door.<br/><br/>It was like that every morning. Susan Rice, owner of Susan’s Café and Bakery, didn’t know how her young employee did it, but she was more than happy to help the young woman where she could. Charlotte had proven to be a hard and dutiful worker, and Susan thought of her in an almost motherly manner; if it could help ease her worries a bit by making sure that her younger brother was fed every morning on his way to school, then so be it.<br/><br/>Five after seven, less than ten minutes before the late bell would ring, Charlotte jogged the mostly empty sidewalks of North Hillshire. Consisting of shops, businesses, and small apartment buildings all perfectly placed in orderly rows, most of the town’s layout was decided before a single street was built. This careful pre-planning resulted in what seemed more like the setting of a fifties sitcom than a place where people actually lived. At this time of morning, though, it would be easy to believe that people didn’t live there.<br/><br/>The absence of other students worried her, because the three subdivisions in which most local families lived were close enough that the majority of students walked to school. Her gaze shifted back down to her left wrist. Seven ten. Four minutes before the bell would ring. Her pace quickened, and finally the school came into sight. It was a hard building to miss; few in North Hillshire were taller than two stories, after all. The third level had been added just within the last ten years, to account for the town’s relatively small population growth. Just under six hundred students were in attendance at North Hillshire High that year. That number rarely changed during the year, and when it did, people definitely took note.<br/><br/>Still trying to catch her breath as she walked the old brick hallways that had grown so familiar to her over the years, Charlotte went over her schedule for the day in her head.<span style="font-style: italic">Memorization grade today, seventh period. Stat report due third. Show new student around during lunch… Oh, yeah!</span>She came to a set of stairs as she remembered. As president of such a small student body, she was able to personally meet new students, give them a tour, help them find a club or group to join and generally just ease the transition. And her class’s counselor had recently informed the student council that there would be a new transfer student arriving that day. Leon Abrams. She knew that word would spread quickly, and just hoped that the new kid could handle the barrage of questions that would inevitable come until the bell rang.<br/><br/>Speaking of, a loud ringing echoed through the halls just as Charlotte entered the cluttered English classroom that was her first period. In the corner, a seat that usually went empty was now occupied by a light haired young man who she could scarcely see due to the girls gathered around his desk. Charlotte set the black duffel bag that held her work uniform –she’d changed into a vivid blue blouse and white denim jeans before leaving the café- and made to go clear the crowd when the loud sound of someone clearing their throat drew all attention to the front of the room.<br/><br/>The man standing in front of the chalkboard was slightly overweight, in his mid-forties, and currently wore a deep frown. At the night of him, anyone not already sitting hurried to their seats. “Okay, listen up, boys and girls; I have a newborn baby at home and haven’t slept in forty-eight hours. So, your assignment today is to read chapters eleven and twelve in the books under your desk. Everyone who does so, quietly, gets an ‘A’ for a participation grade.” He paused, and then looked towards Leon for a moment. “And, in case you haven’t noticed, we have a new student. Please try and make our new friend Leon feel welcome.”<br/><br/>He finished, and there was the sound of rustling as people took out their books and flipped to the assigned pages. The teacher then walked over to Leon’s desk, and said, more quietly, “I’m sorry I didn’t have the chance to introduce myself before class. I’m Mr. Simons. We’re finishing this unit up this week, so unless you were covering Ayn Rand at your old school, you can feel free to sit things out until then.”<br/><br/>Charlotte stared blankly at the faded textbook page in front of her, mind everywhere but there. As dedicated she was to her schoolwork, she<span style="font-style: italic">really</span>didn’t like that particular class. It took a few minutes before she could focus on the reading. Luckily, once she got started, it was a pretty quick read, and she had a good twenty minutes at the end of class to go over her script.<br/><br/>When the bell rang again, Charlotte approached Leon’s desk before a crowd could form. “Hi there,” she said with a smile, offering out a hand to shake, “I’m Charlotte. Most people call me Lottie, though. I’m the student body president, and I usually help new students settle in. Need any help getting to your next class?”