Uncharted Hearts

Chapter Two

It was an 8 minute drive from our house to the high school. In the weeks prior to my transfer, I had obsessively studied its exterior and potential routes to and from it on Google Maps as well as the school's website. It is not the same as facing it head-on, I thought as I parked my car and stared at the brick building with its manicured lawn. Students were streaming into the building - an indiscernible swirl of color and chatter. I followed the stream to the main building.

Inside, a young Black woman was seated at a desk with "Mrs. Robinson" printed on a shiny name plate. "Hello Mrs. Robinson, my name is Blake Patterson. I am a new student," I said. She smiled warmly. "Ah, yes. Here we go," she replied as she handed me a small stack of papers. "This is your locker number and combination, a copy of your schedule, and a map of the school. Today, however, you will have a student guide help you find all of your classes. Her name is Mindy Carter." I nodded and glanced down at the schedule in my hand:

Schedule
8:00 AM to 8:50 AM: History with Mr. York
9:00 AM to 9:50 AM: Math with Mrs. Stevens
10:00 AM to 10:50 AM: English with Mrs. Williams
11:00 AM to 11:50 AM: Science with Mr. Groce
12:00 PM to 12:50 PM: Lunch
1:00 PM to 1:50 PM: Art with Ms. Taylor
2:00 PM to 2:50 PM: Gym with Mr. Wiles

"Hi, I'm Mindy!" The voice belonged to a petite girl with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a wide smile. She was wearing a sweater and a plaid skirt which were a perfectly-coordinated shade of blue. I immediately thought of Rachel Berry from Glee. "Hi, I'm Blake," I responded as I shook her hand. "Shall we go?" I nodded, murmured a quick "Thank you" to Mrs. Robinson, and followed Mindy into the hall. "So, I am sure they explained that I will help you find your classes today. Just because the campus can be a little overwhelming at first!" Something about her energy was contagious and I found myself admitting, "Yeah, I took a virtual tour but I would still be hopeless." She giggled.

"Ridgeview High School is in the shape of the letter "I". The front of the school or the bottom of the "I" has the main office with classrooms stretching from each side." She held her arms out, gesturing to the halls on either side of us. "The corridor in front of us holds the classrooms for our electives and our computer lab. It also leads to the top of the "I" which has our cafeteria and our gymnasium." I nodded in understanding and she gestured for me to follow her. "Your classes - and mine - are on this side of campus. So is your locker. The only time you will venture into other parts of the campus will be for lunch, art, and gym."

Mindy stopped suddenly and announced, "This is your locker, number 169." I looked around, trying to memorize its placement, when someone caught my eye. A group of boys were chatting in front of an open locker across the hall, one of which had short black hair and piercing blue eyes. He was wearing black jeans, a band T-shirt, and black Converse. Just then, he glanced in my direction. Our eyes locked and his mouth twisted into a smile. Those eyes. That smile. That body. I blushed at being caught and although I wanted to look away, I felt like I was a fly caught in his spider web.

"Blake, did you hear me? Are you ready to go to our first class?" My focus snapped back to Mindy and I stammered, "Y-y-yes, thank you." Please tell me she didn't notice. Please tell me she didn't notice. Please... She interrupted my thoughts with, "That was Dylan Reynolds, by the way." I blushed even harder. "I liked his shirt," I covered with a half-lie. I noticed his shirt, but only how good he looked in it. "He wears too much black, in my opinion, but he is nice. You will have a chance to meet him later," she said. "Here we are!"

The classroom - Room 201 - held two white boards, three large windows, a heavy-duty wooden cabinet stretched across one wall by the door and twenty-four desks in the middle. 'Mr. York' had been neatly printed with a black dry-erase marker in the right hand corner of the white board. His desk, located by the windows, was bare except for his name plate as were the walls of the classroom. Our desks were separated and arranged to face the white boards in the front. The windows flooded the room with light. "Mr. York doesn't assign seats. Do you want to sit with me?" She gestured to a seat in the front row and I nodded. I slipped into the seat, just as a man walked in and shut the door. He was young, probably fresh from college, and dressed in jeans and a collared shirt with the school's emblem.