The Demiseer Saga 1: Limitation

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I turned the ignition off, and very carefully climbed out of the cab of my car.  I felt kind of stupid, but I patted the roof and frowned just a bit, as if pitying my less-than-perfect vehicle.  If cars had feelings mine would have been utterly depressed at that moment.  It was surrounded by more beautiful, expensive, exotic cars.  In fact, it took a fair bit of self-control on my part to not lean close and whisper, ‘I’ll be back before you know it.’

I wasn’t that cracked.

As I turned away and headed from the parking lot, I noticed the various directions I could take.  To my left was a huge auditorium that appeared to be connected to the gymnasium by a covered sidewalk.  Beyond that was the large, newly renovated football stadium.  I suppressed a laugh; the football team here was definitely nothing worthy of a stadium that nice.  It routinely played other private schools from the region, and had once had a friendly scrimmage game with my old, public school.  They'd been destroyed.  Directly ahead of me, down a long sidewalk, was one pair of doors leading into the school.  To the right stretched a long, bustling bus ramp that I assumed also had an entrance.  I opted for the less-crowded sidewalk.

There were other students shuffling along from the parking lot toward this particular entrance, but for the most part I blended into the crowd.  The fact that uniforms were required here was a bit of a blessing in disguise; my car may have stood out among the luxury rides of the private elite, but my wardrobe allowed me to slip in with the herd relatively unnoticed.  It wasn't really all that bad, either.  A generic white oxford top and gray slacks or skirt – which I had opted for – looked flattering on nearly everyone.

Determined to make it into the building just in time to find my locker and home room, I slung my worn backpack over my shoulder and twisted around to loop my other arm through the free strap.  It sat squarely on my back, feeling far too empty for my liking.  I wondered, briefly, if this school was a one-strap or two-strap school.  At Roosevelt, no one really cared.  It was as laid-back as a high school could possibly be, which most might not have believed.  Cliques were minimal, and most everyone got along.  Maybe that had something to do with how small our town was, and how most of the students had known one another for quite a long time.  It was nice, as far as high schools go.  Everyone tended to be surprisingly friendly and welcoming.

Of course, that was my old high school.  My new high school, I realized as soon as I set foot through the double doors, was drastically different.  And I'd do well to keep myself reminded of that fact.

People were milling around the hallway, but it seemed to instantly get a bit quieter when the door shut behind me.  My eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lighting, which was drastically different from the early morning sunlight outside.  I tried to tell myself that they were just curious to see who had come in, that it wasn’t really me they were looking at.  It was only my adjusting eyes playing tricks on me!

But it was so me.  Me and my big, dorky backpack.  Because no one – and I mean no one – here was wearing one.  I was a bit confused at first, to be honest.  Why wouldn’t they be carrying their books around?  I saw a few people with a book or two in their arms, but no bags save for the various designer purses the girls toted.

I was mortified as I ducked my head, averted my eyes, and hurried down the hallway.  I’d already marked my locker’s location on the map I clutched in my hand, so I was ready to make it there and hide behind the metal door for a minute in an effort to compose myself.  Maybe I could unload the bag and weigh my arms down with the folders and binders I was carrying.  At least then I wouldn’t stand out as much.

I heard bits and pieces of random conversations floating around as I walked quickly down the first long hall, before taking an immediate right and heading down a wider, less crowded hall.  Whereas the first had been lined with lockers, this one was more open and was instead home to about a dozen classrooms.  I breathed a bit easier, finding this hallway less stifling and more inviting.  Less people seemed to notice me here, since I didn’t exactly have to make a grand entrance through any doors.

At the end of this hall, I swung left and eyed three large cubby holes just ahead.  This hallway was similar to the first, in that it was filled with lockers along the right.  However, along the left were windows that looked out into a pretty, orange-and-brown-leafed courtyard.  Students were milling around outside, some coming in and some going out.  It was the first thing that actually made me stop and look since I arrived, except for the luxury cars in the Senior parking lot.

I shook my head and turned my attention back to the large cubbies to the right.  The wall seemed to dip outward, still lined with lockers, and surround three small islands of lockers, standing alone within the offset area.  I liked it; it was sort of pushed away from the traffic of the hallway, so that those retrieving things from their lockers didn’t get trampled.

I hurried toward the second grouping of metal lockers, which was thankfully only occupied by six to ten students,  and scanned the number plates that were welded onto the doors.  Eight-forty-two, eight-forty-three, eight-forty-four.  That was mine!  I let out a breath of relief as I realized it was a top-locker.  There was nothing worse, in my experience, than a bottom locker.  In a more positive mood, I hastily turned the map in my hand over and read the combination.  Silently praying it would work, I twisted the lock right, left, and then back to the right in the proper order of numbers.

A tiny click as I reached up to lift the latch made me smile.  I was actually smiling!  Maybe McGregor wouldn’t be so bad after all.  I swung open the door and found, to my utter surprise, that the locker was not a top-locker as I had assumed.  Oh, no.  It was a full-length locker.  Head to toe, all mine.  I could have fit in it, if I were about a foot shorter and less hippy.  “No way!” I said aloud, surveying the amount of room I had all to myself.

No wonder no one used backpacks here!

Maybe it was the dumb shock I had on my face, or maybe it was me speaking aloud that finally made one the few people around me look my way.  Whatever it was, it caught a small brunette’s attention that stood about two feet to my right.  “First day?” she asked, giving me a surprisingly warm smile.