Relieved, Becky hurried to Mrs. Naper's English class while I proceeded back to the school's main entrance.

I plopped my backpack on the registrar's desk. The administrators were bright and perky, fresh from the glow of the summer sun and a few months sans students.

"Wow, classes haven't even begun and you're already in the principal's office," I heard a man's voice say as he came through the door behind me. "That's a first for you, isn't it?"

I turned around. Principal Reed, like me, was holding a cup of store-bought coffee, I found his joke only halfway amusing, which made our school leader chuckle.

"How was your summer?" he asked, and noticed my blindingly pale skin, "Not much for the outdoors?"

I barely cracked a smile.

"You'd better get to class," he said."Whichever one that is." He shook his head as he entered his office.

The school registrar asked me a few questions and then printed my schedule from her computer.

"I still have those nightmares," the registrar said."Showing up to school without knowing what classes I'm taking or where the classrooms are located. The worst one was showing up for exams I hadn't studied for."

"One person's nightmares are another person's reality," I said. I took my schedule, gulped some coffee, and apathetically headed for class.

Mrs. Naper , a wiry woman with a mind bent on classics-and the tenure to prove it-greeted me with a stern glare and a few verbal admonishments. She was known throughout the Dullsville school system for the " NaperPaper," a college preparatory essay all juniors were required to complete, graded under the strictest of standards. Several things were in my favor, though. There was an empty seat next to Becky, and Trevor Mitchell was nowhere in sight.

"To reiterate," Mrs. Naper began as I took a seat, "your guidance counselor will be in to talk to you next month college applications, scholarships, and grants.