commanderhermit
This was it. First day of high school in the-- she repressed a shudder-- city. Terrifying. But for the first time since she’d begun exploring the urban jungle, Olive was not lost. She knew exactly where her first class was, thanks to those new-student guides that greeted her at the entrance.
(She didn’t even have to say anything; they just took her schedule and gave her directions.)
Third door, left wing. She strode into the room-- er, shuffled into, rather, with both hands clutching the straps of her new knapsack. These kids were supposed to be her age? They looked so... old.
But there was a teacher, thankfully. (Or at least that’s what she thought he was.) Olive approached the man with calculated steps.
“Hi, uh, Sir. I just thought I’d introduce myself. I’m Olive Woodstock. A--Also, I’m new.”