Nice to meet you

I look up, waiting for my turn in the principal's office, the same man too busy talking on the phone with some high-ranking parent to remind himself that one of his students is waiting to be received by him. I just need another struck-up, nothing more - I would also like to get away from this uncomfortable chair before the grim look of my teacher manages to make me anxious enough to make me start to fear the worst; yes, because from beyond the open door of the teaching room, between a sip of tea and another, she does nothing but stare at me.

"I won't run away, don't worry".

I sigh, half-closing my eyelids and praying to not have to get to the point of melting into the leather of the seat where I'm sunk. At this rate, I will also get scolded by the math teacher, another frustrated man who has no life other than the one at the Saint Jeremy - or at least he hasn't had it since his wife ran off with her lover.

And at that thought, my mind cannot avoid landing on a planet that I tried to not look at until the last: Seth.

He had tried to call me a few times, but each, I let the registry answer at my place. How do I deal with him?

In thirteen years of knowledge I would never have even imagined that he could tell me what he actually said outside that tiny bookshop, finally giving a sort of concreteness to the dreams that I kept secret for a time that I don't even want to calculate and, doing it, he made the world fall on my shoulders.

It was already known that his timing was bad. Morgenstern cannot be defined as such without delay, but choosing such a delicate moment was indeed a terrible choice.

Jace is still on a rampage with him, he asked me several times if I had seen his "best friend", if he had at least deigned to send me an apology message - and I solved as many details as possible, so as not to make the situation worse, but I fear that my brother may already have realized that some details were missing in my stories.

Besides him, I can't help thinking about Sharon, the "back and forth" that underlies her love-story with Seth. What if his interest in me was just a way to fill their umpteenth detachment? I wouldn't be surprised at all, but I would certainly suffer.

Furthermore, she is not the type to let slip what she is interested in - she showed it well with the thousands of boys she flirted with, without ever completely departing from the one she filled with betrayals, but who eventually repaid her in the same manner.

How do I think I can take her place? And then, do I really want to do it?

I'm not convinced. My still too romantic vision of life would not bear to know that the person I love goes around cheating on me without great hesitation; I already struggle to not look away when Sharon takes him by the hand, or to pretend smiles when Morgenstern has some affairs with any woman, let alone face something of this magnitude!

The stomach starts to tighten.

Why, all of a sudden, when I realize my biggest and most intimate dream, am I also seeing it turn into a nightmare?

I do not have time to evaluate an answer that, a tap on the shoulder, brings me back to the reality of this suffocating corridor.

Blinking the eyelids several times, my gaze re-focuses on the environment that surrounds me and, together with the Romanesque architecture of the building, the round face of an excessively pretty girl takes shape in front of me.

Those with such innocent features are usually the most harpies - and I become their prey for jokes.

We stare at each other for a few seconds, studying one another.

The age is practically the same, even though she might seem younger because of the doll-like connotations, sweetened more by a short bob that makes her blond blend into peaks of a dark pink, similar to red, but also has huge eyes of a warm and welcoming brown - maybe I could even say that they look friendly.

She is beautiful and this is undeniable, yet she does not give me the idea of being the usual princess that could be found here - the more I stare at her, the more this belief makes its way into my thoughts.

«Is this the principal's office?» She asks me after a while, discovering a cute ringing little girl's voice.

I can't help but raise my eyebrows at this question: how can she not know what the office of the dreaded director of the institute is? Even those who do not make a constant stop here, like myself, know which door should be avoided to have a good stay in the school. Some consider it a meeting place and some a kind of repulsive room, but everyone knows what is hidden beyond the door by the sanded glass.

The way in which her expression becomes more and more doubtful however, makes me understand that it is not a joke and that, seriously, she has no idea where to go - may she is the newcomer?

I nod, trying to find a bit of demeanor and sitting down as it is best suited to a girl: «Unfortunately» I add then.

She pauses a moment to study the wooden door, sighs and then lets herself fall on the seat next to mine, taking her face in the hands with an annoyed look. With the tip of the shoe she starts to beat on the floor, marking the time. A shot every second, even if, before getting to the minute, the girl gets tired, throwing herself back with her back.

«Look, if you get bored right now, you won't stand waiting for your turn» I point out, raising just one eyebrow. This is not a place for the impatient, but rather a sort of gym to face haste - which usually loses shamelessly.

She opens her eyes and turns: «Are you kidding? Is your principal so slow?» And from her statement there is no longer any doubt: it is the newcomer to whom Liz spoke to me. In fact, it had never happened to me to cross her in the corridors, much less to see her in the canteen or in the bathrooms - and her haircut, I am sure, would not have escaped me. Few female students dare to challenge the limits of the school regulations.

I sketch a smile, scrutinizing the teachers' room before venturing to say anything that could be used against me by Miss Connor, then I go back to the girl next to me: «Let's say he takes his time...» I say ironically, which apparently does nothing but make the situation worse.

She covers her eyes with the palms, starting to despair relatively.

«Is the first time? That you've been send to the presidency, I mean»I try to distract her from the terrible news she just received, even if being friendly with another woman is not really one of my best qualities.

«No, in the old school it had already happened, but I didn't think that here, out of foolishness, I could find myself in punishment. In short, it is not a good business card to be sent to the presidency after only one week of my arrival!»

The smile on my lips gets bigger. The way she complains seems almost comical: «No, actually no. You could wait for the next one, you know, it would have drastically changed the consideration that teachers have of you» I punish her, pointing out how much the simple fact that she is here is labeling her as "rebel" in the eyes of teachers, regardless of the timing with which she is awarded an interview with the Grand Chief of Saint Jeremy.

She stares at me with large eyes, looking shocked. Do I offended her? Well, it wouldn't be the first time my jokes are misunderstood, after all, there shuold also be a reason if I have no friends in here.

With incredible surprise, the blonde bursts out in a resounding laugh, attracting in turn the grim look of Miss Connor who, advancing towards us with her index finger to her mouth, underlines that we must still silent.

Her warning, however, takes a while to find an answer on the newcomer who, red as a tomato due to shortness of breath of the laughter, covers her lips at her best.

The verses that she makes sounds like the barking of an animal in difficulty, yet it never stop completely - every now and then it seems about to stop, then it starts again.

She remains motionless for a few moments, while I sneer for the umpteenth fool made and embolus shot in the professor's body, then she reaches an arm towards me, holding out the palm.

«Caroline, Caro, for friends» her smile is now so genuine it amazes me. For the first time in a decade, a Saint Jeremy girl appreciated a joke of mine: is it a hallucination? Is it possible that there is someone in this world who has the same humor and is forced to live his school routine among a bunch of snooty girl?

I wrinkled the forehead, uncertain. If I now shake her hand, are we sure I won't sign my fate? Am I really ready to give shape to a knowledge that, in all probability, as soon as it comes to discover my fame in here, will never want to turn into friendship, still disappointing me?

Her outstretched hand and those huge deer eyes do not seem to want to change direction at all, and so, unconsciously, I repley to the presentation: «Jane, nice to meet you».