Phoebe Johnson is the daughter of the Moon Goddess Artemis, and has a human father. Living on Earth as a Demi-Goddess surrounded by humans and werewolves isn't as exciting as it seems. No one is allowed to know of her true parentage, and everyone th...
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"I'm here, I'm here! Sorry I'm late!" An Asian human girl rushes in like a tornado, her long black hair spiralling out from behind her. With a red flush upon her dainty cheeks, her slanted, swallow-tail, sparkling green eyes light up in greeting as she catches a glance of me.
"Hi. You must be Phoebe." She sticks her hand out towards me, with a pleasant smile showcasing her tiny, pearl-like teeth and pale skin.
"Yes I am, and you must be Minnie." I grin back at her.
"Yep! It's great to meet you!" She exclaims. As I stand up, I notice I am a whole head and shoulders taller then her, and realise that she can only be about 5 foot 1 at the most. No wonder her name is Minnie!
"It's good to meet you too. Do you have calculus first as well?" I ask her.
"Yes I do. I simply love science and calculus, but that must be the Asian side of me." She giggles.
Alrighty then. Coming from anyone else, I am sure that would be racist.
"I hate calculus, but I'm ok at it." I shrug nonchalantly. To me, it is all about patterns and practise; once I start doing something new, if I find a pattern, I find it increasingly simple to perform.
Minnie leads me back into the hallway, which is now crowded with people in perfect chaos, like a movie scene. A couple is making out on the left side of the hall, and about ten feet farther down, the cliquey girls stand around, gossiping and flipping their hair flirtily. Opposite them, the cliquey jocks lean against the lockers, and between them, a parade of band geeks with their huge instrument cases struggle to walk through the corridor. There are the aerospace tech kids who are making paper airplanes, and the fashion kids that are wheeling mannequins and clothing racks down the halls. Then there is me, not that I fit into any of those groups.
Walking through the hall to my first class, Minnie talks my ear off about the latest work we are doing, entirely too excitable for a Monday morning. The people lining up outside the classroom all take a good look at me, interested in the new person invading their territory, sizing me up. The classroom is average, with pale aquamarine walls, rows of glossy wooden desks sitting neatly in perfectly proportioned rows, colourful posters displaying tips and tricks stuck neatly around the room, and a large, clean blackboard standing behind the teacher's mahogany desk. Of course, you cannot forget the large clock hanging by the far wall in between the large bay windows, every students dream or nightmare, depending on the time.
The room is spotless; an OCD sufferer's paradise, and I stop to wonder for a minute what the room will look like at the end of the day, once it has been subjected to the terror of that of discourteous teenagers. Minnie and I join the back of the queue of the rambunctious teenagers, some giving me a curious once over, and others too interested in whatever fruitless conversation they are having to recognise the surprising attendance of little old me.
When the bell finally rings, and the students begin to herd into the room like cattle, I realise that it would have been more beneficial for me to be at the front of the queue, as I could have snuck in quietly, and not attracted so much attention. Maybe if I keep my head down I can walk in unnoticed next to Minnie...
