The Vigilantes- Chapter II

Amelia didn't know whether she should be disgusted or pleasantly surprised. It meant that she didn't have to do any work. It also meant that she couldn't do any work. The teacher was late. Sure it was the first period of the day, and of course no one was perfect. But as far as Amelia was concerned a moose better have eaten the teacher's car. There could be no good explanation for how late the teacher was.

Oh how late was he? According to her schedule each class was sixty minutes long, fifty five if you allowed for travelling. She checked her watch, and he was about thirty, thirty two minutes late. Not that she was counting or anything.

She probably wouldn't have been so bothered, if there was something to do. She had already read the preface a kajillion times, after all who's counting? It consisted of cooing over his dog and a story explaining how he had ripped off a group of Quies Pilgrims. Amelia wasn't sure why anyone would want to emigrate to Quies. Quies was a very bizarre country. According to a number of papers, the Quies government took religion seriously, a little too seriously. Apparently it was a capital crime if you wore the wrong type of rosary. Even though it was probably just propaganda there was a reason Amelia still lived in Surtra.

Amelia rolled her eyes, sure she could probably socialize. Sure she probably should socialize. But looking around the room she couldn't imagine why. The monkeys at the zoo had better manners. Plus her peers talked so loud. It was almost like they knew the teacher wasn't going to be there and had decided to take full advantage of a free period. They also picked conversation topics she didn't know anything about; like what went into making pizza, pop stars, burger joints, and what color was the new black.

Why couldn't they have been talking about plays? Even Yuri Sekemoto's plays would've been alright. Sure she was a foreigner, but as a playwright she was okay. If you asked tabloids from Munchausen she was the new Shakespeare. This was definitely not her milieu.

She glanced around. The chairs on both sides of her were empty. That's why she had sat there. She was beginning to regret that decision; maybe she should've sat a couple chairs to the left.

"Hey?" Amelia clasped her left hand over her shoulder. Someone had poked her shoulder blade. She looked to the left to get a good look at the culprit; thankful she hadn't moved in that direction.

"Sorry!" A girl with black hair apologized. She was wearing a thick plaid scarf, and a red wool hat. She looked well prepared to melt any snowflake that crossed her path.

"It's alright." Amelia said as she rubbed her shoulder. Her shoulder felt like it'd been bruised, what a strong little girl. There was no way she was taller than Amelia.

"So you are new, right?" The girl asked as she continued her assault on Amelia's personal bubble.

"Yeah?" Amelia answered, unsure how to respond. Her conversations with strangers weren't normally so cozy.

"Well that explains why you look so upset." The girl sat on the desk to Amelia's right. The old wood gave a creak that betrayed years of abuse, and Amelia immediately began cataloging her first aid skills so she'd be prepared if the girl hit the floor.

"I'm sorry?"

"Professor Bandinelli is never here on the first day."

"What?" Amelia slid her schedule out from under her textbook.

"Yeah, he never shows on the first day." She repeated twirling a strand of black hair. "He only gets away with it because it's just mythology."

Amelia self consciously fiddled with her glasses, "Just mythology?"

"Mmh, yeah." She flicked Amelia's textbook. "It's not educationally important."

"Oh…" Amelia murmured; she had sat down with Miranda and carefully picked out what classes looked the most important. She felt like a fool. That's what she got for taking someone with cat ears seriously.

"By the way," Amelia got an eye full of black hair and blue eyes. "I'm Holly Lunaire, Holly Cyril Lunaire."

"Uh…" Amelia leaned back as far as she could in the cheap, squeaky, plastic chair. "Amelia Falkenrath."

"No middle name?" Holly asked poking Amelia's forehead.

"Yes, mine." Amelia answered as she looked cross-eyedly at Holly's finger. She was feeling the loss of personal space, and not for the first time in her life she wished she could use her own finger to turn Holly into the annoying little mouse she was and send her scurrying across the room. Instead she opened her mythology text, prayed silently for the bell to ring and tuned her out.