Dallas was nothing like Seattle, Renn thought for the hundredth time as she gazed absently out of the window. Her chin rested heavily in her hand, extended fingers keeping her glasses at the top of her nose. In the most distant realm of her heavy mind she could hear the teacher addressing them; something to do with chlorophyll and mitosis but Renn didn’t care. She didn’t even understand. If she hadn’t been smart by the standards in Washington then she wasn’t going to be any smarter by the standards of Texas. So why should she listen to someone whine on about the pollination and growth of flowers when she was two thousand one hundred miles from home, friendless and exhausted from a late shift down at the sandwich store on Commerce Street? Texas, quite honestly, sucked.
The sudden sound of metal trays being shifted caught the teenager’s attention and reluctantly her eyes moved from the window to the desk at the front of the class. An assortment of flowers lay on each tray and Renn had to physically bite back her sound of disagreement. As she’d expected, and as the teacher went on to explain, they would be evaluating the flowers and commenting on their features. Renn was sure she could make many appropriate comments about this. Except she never really got a chance as the teacher was barking more instructions and Renn tried to zone out again but her name wrenched her back. “Renn. Why don’t you come sit over here so you can work with someone?” No. Why did she have to move? She could already feel her cheeks going warm and despite her internal willpower she just nodded dumbly. She’d been here just over a week and she was already ready to quit - save up enough for the fastest Greyhound coach to Seattle, beg for their house back and yes they’d be fine. She was a Hadley...and somehow a Hadley always survived.
Nervously she swept her hair up in to a high ponytail, tying it twice when it failed the first time due to a few awkward far too short strands. Despite the slight flutter of worry in her chest she made her way to the table that the teacher had indicated. She placed her bag down, settled atop the stool, glanced down at the metal tray and then over at the girl who she had no recollection of ever actually talking to in her short time here. “Please tell me you don’t understand why we’re doing this too....” She muttered as she pushed her glasses up and gazed slightly warily down at the flowers before them. “I’m not very good at anything like this so I’m sorry already...I feel bad for you.”
@mundanerping