I rush to my locker as the ringing of the bell makes my bones vibrate, indicating the starting of 3rd period. My chemistry class ran late, and now I’m a rush of papers and folders as I scramble to make it to my next class on time. Though I suppose it’s too late for that. I catch a glimpse of myself in the small magnetic mirror that lives in my locker, and give my hair a quick brush with my fingers as I slam the metal door shut. With my hair being straighter than a ruler, it takes less than a gust of wind to make it look unkempt. I sigh, pushing a rouge strand off my glasses and behind my ear as I quickly make my way to Mr Reynolds 3rd period world history class.

I felt a pop quiz on the horizon, so I studied a little extra last night just in case. Not that I had to; world history feels more like common knowledge to me, and I’ve never gotten anything less than an A in the class. Or any other class, for that matter. I giggle to myself at the thought. Sure, maybe I’m overlly confident in my acedemic prowess, but I’ve more than justified it. Straight A’s, honor roll, student body president, even soon to be valedictorian. There’s no denying my educational credentials.

I heave a sigh of relief as I finally reach room 203, picking a speck of lint from my sweater before entering. The room is silent, causing heads to turn at the sound of my entrance, the words “Pop Quiz” written sloppily on the whiteboard. I smile to myself, knowing it’ll be another easy A.

“Nice of you to join us, miss Evans.” My attention is pulled to Mr Reynolds desk in the corner of the room.

“Sorry, 2nd period ran late. I have a note.” I pull the late pass from one of my various folders and cross the room to hand it to him.

“I see…” he says as I hand him the note, eyeing it suspiciously. “Well here’s a test, have a seat and get started.” I thank him and turn back to the classroom, scanning for an open chair. My heart stops as I see one empty seat, the only empty seat. Sheepishly, I make my way towards it. The seat to its left is occupied by a girl with dark brown curls, who smiles and pulls the empty chair out as I approach.

“Thank you,” I mutter, smiling back. Her name is Sienna, and I could recall every curve of her face with my eyes closed. Her round cheeks and long eyelashes, her glossed lips that cover her perfect smile. Her dark glittering eyes that make my stomach tingle when they meet mine, as they do now. I mentally reprimand myself for staring too long as I sit and look over the quiz paper. It’s easy material, and I begin digging through my pencil case to find something to write with. My fingers brush past fat highlighters and thin smooth pens as I feel a tap on my shoulder. I whip around to see Sienna offering me a pencil.

“I have an extra,” she whispers in explanation. “Do you want it?”

“Yes, thank you,” I whisper back as a blush starts up my neck. As I take the outstretched pencil, my fingers brush hers, and I quickly turn back to my quiz before she notices the blush that’s now creeping it’s way onto my face. Flustered, I try to focus back on the paper, rolling the pencil between my fingers. Ticonderoga. Maybe I do have a chance with her. I smile, and begin the quiz.