"Okay," he said, his fingers moving rapidly over the keyboard. A minute later, he reached over for the mouse and clicked something. The printer by the computer sprang to life. "And the other young lady?"

"Moore, Melissa Alexandra," my own mother murmured. Her arm - which was around my shoulder - squeezed me a bit closer to her. She'd come up to register me for school and to bring me some clothes. Also, she was looking for a place to stay temporarily. After all, I couldn't stay with the Hansons forever.

The printer spit out 2 schedules. One was mine and one was Nicky's. Then, the young man scribbled something on a notepad with blue paper, and handed either of us a slip. I took mine with a sigh, and lifted up my backpack again. The young man looked at us and said, "You two can head on to your homeroom class. I just need your moms to fill out some paperwork. Just give those blue slips to your teachers." I trudged out into the hall to find the class I was supposed to be in. I heard Nicky's footsteps right behind mine.

It was weird. I hadn't talked to Nicky hardly at all since we had arrived in Tulsa. The past few days had been so hard... He cleared his throat, and I turned to look at him. A wisp of blond hair hung in his dark eyes. He was staring straight ahead. "Nicky, are you okay?" I found myself asking.

He looked at me, startled. "Uh...yeah. You?"

I nodded, and fell back into step with him. "Which class do you have?"

He unfolded the printout he'd received in the office - the schedule he'd already crumpled in his fist. "English. You?"

I nodded. "Which classroom?"

"908," he said. He glanced over at my schedule. "You're in 905. Close."

I shrugged, and shoved the flimsy sheet of paper into the pocket of my jeans. The halls wound around and around, and our footsteps seemed much louder in the empty halls. The floors were uncovered concrete slab; an indeterminate shade of gray. The walls were thick cinderblocks that had been painted white. A bay of royal blue lockers were placed at intervals down the otherwise colorless corridors. Locker signs still hung from a few of the lockers, the leftovers from football season, proclaiming things such as "Alisha Reemo - Senior - Cheerleader", "Mike O'Haus - Junior - Varsity Football", and "Leslie Hamlet - Senior - Trumpet". Banners encouraging school spirit and saying no to drugs were strung from the ceiling. Fliers for the 'Winter Wonderland Ball' were taped sporadically to the walls.

We finally reached the hallway that harbored our respective homerooms. He nodded at me, as if to say goodbye, then knocked on the door of room 908. A moment later, the door opened and he was swallowed by the unknown.

I took a deep breath and knocked on the gray metal door. I noted a few dents and scratches. A second later, the door opened. An older man with white hair and wild blue eyes. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm Alex Moore, and I'm new here," I told him quietly. I noticed a few curious eyes peering up at me.

"Where's your slip to get into class?"

I pulled out the blue slip I'd been given earlier. He peered up at me, suspiciously. "It says here that this is for a Melissa Moore. You just said..."

"Alexandra is my middle name," I quickly explained.

"I see," he said, tucking the slip of blue paper into his shirt pocket. "Take that seat...back there." He gestured to one in the back of the room. I hurried to the desk. He reached behind his desk and produced a book. He wrote something on the inside, took a book cover from a shelf behind his desk, then walked to my seat. "Welcome to Tulsa, Ms. Moore."

He walked back to his desk, and resumed the lesson. I awkwardly began to cover my book, and attempted to ignore the stares that seemed to be coming from everyone.