15 Minutes

One, craning my neck to read the engraved letters on the front entrance, I wondered what the next four years had in store for us. A clipped shoulder sent me flying toward the stairs as a couple of upperclassmen glanced at the sudden movement. A few snickers were heard. I ducked my head quickly and darted into the building. A bad omen perhaps? Well, on the bright side, there was a lot of room for improvement.

Five, okay, so I knew the layout of the school well enough to maneuver myself around. Summer school has its perks but the main reason I knew exactly where I was going was because spent almost an entire hour the night before poring religiously over a map of the school with my classes and locker position penciled in. That was okay, I wasn't lost. At least, not yet.

Fifteen, people! Handel's rendition of Messiah rang through my head as I latched myself onto a familiar face. Schedule comparison; each person pulled out a crisp, clean, pink form that would be our lifeline for the first week or so. And then I realized, I needed a new schedule due to a screw-up. Unwillingly, I turned to the cafeteria for a new pink slip until I realized that I would have to talk to the administration in order to do so. Little Freshman that I was, I cringed and my eyes slowly drifted over to that familiar face. I saw redemption and dragged my friend (who protested the whole way) with me to replace my lifeline.