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Once
I
got
around
the
cafeteria
,
building
three
was
easy
to
spot
.
A
large
black
"
3
"
was
painted
on
a
white
square
on
the
east
corner
.
I
felt
my
breathing
gradually
creeping
toward
hyperventilation
as
I
approached
the
door
.
I
tried
holding
my
breath
as
I
followed
two
unisex
raincoats
through
the
door
.
The
classroom
was
small
.
The
people
in
front
of
me
stopped
just
inside
the
door
to
hang
up
their
coats
on
a
long
row
of
hooks
.
I
copied
them
.
They
were
two
girls
,
one
a
porcelain
-
colored
blonde
,
the
other
also
pale
,
with
light
brown
hair
.
At
least
my
skin
wouldn
’
t
be
a
standout
here
.
I
took
the
slip
up
to
the
teacher
,
a
tall
,
balding
man
whose
desk
had
a
nameplate
identifying
him
as
Mr
.
Mason
.
He
gawked
at
me
when
he
saw
my
name
-
not
an
encouraging
response
-
and
of
course
I
flushed
tomato
red
.
But
at
least
he
sent
me
to
an
empty
desk
at
the
back
without
introducing
me
to
the
class
.
It
was
harder
for
my
new
classmates
to
stare
at
me
in
the
back
,
but
somehow
,
they
managed
.
I
kept
my
eyes
down
on
the
reading
list
the
teacher
had
given
me
.
It
was
fairly
basic
:
Bronte
,
Shakespeare
,
Chaucer
,
Faulkner
.
I
’
d
already
read
everything
.
That
was
comforting
.
.
.
and
boring
.
I
wondered
if
my
mom
would
send
me
my
folder
of
old
essays
,
or
if
she
would
think
that
was
cheating
.
I
went
through
different
arguments
with
her
in
my
head
while
the
teacher
droned
on
.
When
the
bell
rang
,
a
nasal
buzzing
sound
,
a
gangly
boy
with
skin
problems
and
hair
black
as
an
oil
slick
leaned
across
the
aisle
to
talk
to
me
.
"
You
’
re
Isabella
Swan
,
aren
’
t
you
?
"
He
looked
like
the
overly
helpful
,
chess
club
type
.
"
Bella
,
"
I
corrected
.
Everyone
within
a
three
-
seat
radius
turned
to
look
at
me
.
"
Where
’
s
your
next
class
?
"
he
asked
.
I
had
to
check
in
my
bag
.
"
Um
,
Government
,
with
Jefferson
,
in
building
six
.
"
There
was
nowhere
to
look
without
meeting
curious
eyes
.
