“Whoa, okay, fine.” I pulled apart the box. A note fluttered to the floor. Picking it up, I read the scribble and gasped.
They aren’t your grandma’s shoes. So I know they don’t have the same meaning. But I wanted you to have something to make you smile on your first day of classes. Sorry about last night.
Chase
“Oh my hell, Chase Winter just sent you a present!” Monroe clapped her hands together. “I can’t believe this! He never does things without Nixon’s consent.”
I shrugged. “Maybe he asked permission from Nixon?”
“No, this has Chase written all over it.” She beamed and pointed to the box. “Do you have any idea how much all of this stuff costs?”
“No.” I looked at the school uniform in the box, the knee-highs and Italian leather boots. I’d briefly forgotten that the brochure had boasted about E.E. making students wear uniforms to keep everyone, well, uniform.
“At least ten grand I’d say…” Monroe looked inside the boots. “Yup, they are an original Win.”
“Huh?”
“W-i-n,” she said slowly. “As in the beginning of Chase’s last name. His parents dabble in fashion design. They make high end accessories, boots, and scarves. Lucky you, last time I got a pair of these I was twelve, and it was because I promised Chase I’d get my friend to French kiss him.”
“I can’t accept these.” I pushed the box far away from me.
“Sure you can, and when you see Chase you give him a giant hug in front of everyone. I’m proud of him. He’s finally grown a pair.”
“A pair of… what?”
“Balls.” Monroe threw me a wicked smile and pointed to the outfit. “Put it on and get ready, Boots.” She clapped her hands together. “Perfect, now I really can call you Boots. You know, because he got you over the knee, one of a kind leather Win boots that will make every girl on this floor want to murder you where you stand.”
“Great, more fans.” I pumped my fist lamely into the air.
“Just wear them, whore, before I help them kill you and steal them off your cold lifeless corpse.”
“Fine,” I grumbled. “But first food and then coffee.”
She threw the Cheerio box at my head. “The breakfast of champions. Eat up.”
“Right.” I snorted. “Especially considering I only have two meal passes.”
Monroe froze. “What did you say?”
“Your idiot brother gave me an access card with two meal passes. Remember? I told you that yesterday.”
She squinted as if trying to remember and then asked. “What lunch are you in?”
I shrugged. How was I supposed to know?
She rolled her eyes and held out her hand. I snagged the card from my desk and put it in her hand. She flipped it over and typed the bar code into the website on her computer.
“I can’t believe it.” She shook her head.
“What? What’s wrong? Don’t tell me he lied! I’m going to starve!” I yelled toward the ceiling and stomped my foot. I was from Wyoming. I liked my food.
“He, um…” Monroe scratched her head. “He put you with us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nobody sits with us. It’s a private lunch period only for…” Monroe snapped her mouth shut. “You know what? Nevermind. Let’s get you ready so we’re not late.”
****
Monroe wasn’t with me in my first class which was some sort of politics class. I hadn’t really been one for politics, but because most of the people who went to school here ended up being world leaders, it was considered core curriculum. I looked to my left where a kid pulled out a flask.
On my right a girl texted someone and giggled behind her hand. The guy in front of me was reading a p**n o.
Safe to say the world of tomorrow was not in good hands.
Once the rest of the kids poured in, the lights flickered once, then twice. I learned quickly that meant that it was time to quiet down.
The door to the classroom opened. Nixon walked in.
You have got to be kidding me.
I looked around for an empty seat. There weren’t any. Curious, I watched as he went and stood behind the desk in the front.
“You all know me, and if you don’t, well then, ask someone next to you because I’m not repeating my name. Professor Sanders had a death in the family, and because I’m doing a business internship for him, he asked me to fill in. Many of you are seniors that have put off this class until the last year here. Welcome to Freshman Politics. This class is going to suck, it’s hard as hell, and if you don’t get a B, you basically flunk the class. But…” He stepped around the desk and leaned against it. “If you listen, do your homework, and keep your head out of our asses long enough to pay attention, you may just learn something.”
Okay, so as a person he sucked. As a teacher, I kind of dug the honesty.
“Trace,” Nixon called my name.
Just kidding, I wanted to feed him to a hundred piranhas.
“Yes?” I stood. Monroe had filled me in that every time a teacher called on you, you stood. At least I knew that much before being thrown into the lion’s den.
“Name all the Presidents of the United States. You have three minutes.”
I smirked, mainly because I had known the answer to that question since I was in sixth grade when Grandma made me memorize the presidents to the tune of a song.