Indiana, Invincible - Chapter 1, Part 2

by Maryam in A Land Of Desert And Sun

(Indiana's POV)

Sitting here in the office, staring up at the ceiling, I can't help but think how time-wasting this is, just sitting, sitting, sitting until the secretary finally waves you in to get an official welcome from the principal of Weston Academy of Arts and Sciences For Twentieth-First-Century Students (as the brochure the secretary handed to me as I walked in, which I've read about five times already, says).
Well, you got to give it to 'em, they deserve that pompous-sounding name, it's situated in a lovely place. My eyes stray towards the window, and what I see is a brilliant, bright green. Yep, that's what I'm talking about, the grounds. Though their buses aren't particularly attracting, their grounds and curriculum (or so my mom, who studied here, my dad, and the brochure say) are.
'Excuse me, Miss Finnigan? Indiana?'
The mousy-haired (a color sort of like grayish-brown; also, mousy as in 'puts a lot of hair mousse in the mornings') secretary is looking towards me, a semi-pained look in her face; she's holding a phone at her side and motioning me inside.
I straighten my coat as I get up, and walk in. The secretary closes the door behind me.
Vice Principal Hart Weatherford Ferguson is watching me with a superior look in his eye; he's leaning back in his big, black-leather covered, heavily padded chair, which towers high above his head. Contrary to popular belief, it doesn't make him look smaller; rather, a bit intimidating.
Gulp. Not.
'Good morning, Miss Finnigan,' he says clearly, shortly; I nod back. 'G'morning, Mr. Ferguson,' I reply easily, flashing as smile.
To tell the truth, he looks disconcerted for a few seconds, but to his credit, he quickly continues.
'I won't mince words, as your first period starts in ten minutes,' he glances at a gold-plated Rolex neatly situated on his wrist, and stands up. 'Your scholarly record is excellent and we're pleased to have you at our school.'
Mr. Ferguson is looking through a filing cabinet as he says this; I say, 'Thank you, Mr. Ferguson.'
He glances at me, once more looking somewhat surprised, but he brings out a paper which he hands to me with his right hand. I admire the Rolex once more before I take the paper. It's a neat schedule that says the usual blah blah blah....
I look up. 'Thanks,' I say, 'Can I go now?'
That surprised look. Again. 'Yes, you may go.' I nod slowly, then turn towards the door.
Jeeze, it's not like I'm not used to those surprised looks, but if you don't know what it's for, it gets a bit tiresome after a while.
I pause one last time before going out.
'Er... Sir? Professor? Mr. Ferguson? Are hats allowed?'
He looks up (what is it with him and looking surprised? What???) and nods, slightly irritably. 'Yes, yes,' he says.
I nod once last time.

As I step out of the glass-topped door and turn immediately to the left, thoughts taken up with finding my locker, they are, quite suddenly and inexplicably, cut off -
with the colliding of myself with another person.
I let out an 'Ow!' as I go down-
Ohhhhh, DARN.