She humphs snidely. “I suggest working on your time management in the future. Not being punctual shows a lack of discipline and self-control.”
My molars grind. Trust me, my self-controlisbeing tested.
“Hale. Aurora Hale,” I reiterate, starting to spell it out for her as she pushes her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose. Her foul mood souring deeper.
I blow out air. Is it a requirement to be a jerk to go here?
“Not on file.”
Rubbing at my temple, those beady little eyes watch my every move. I do nothing to hide my distress. This is going to be the longest day of my life.
Thinking back to what Abram said the other night, my eyes close in frustration.
“Try Aurora Casper,” I say, letting out an annoyed breath.
Her eyes widen, blinking so many times you’d think her eyelashes are windshield wipers in the rain. The sound of my fist hitting the counter snapping her out of her daze.
Jumping, she gasps. Her accordion-style skirt swishing behind her with lightning speed as she moves around the office.
Licking her thumb, she pulls out a folder, stuffing it with various things before shoving it in my hands. Never looking my name back up.
“I have all your paperwork here, Mi-miss Casper,” she wavers, stammering along. “Class schedule, locker combination, vouchers. It’s all there. The administration insists that you have a smooth transition, so we are assigning you a guide.”
This woman is going to give me a headache spitting out so much information at once.
She looks down at her watch, disapproving. “Give me a moment, I’ll have to call her out of class.”
What, like a babysitter?
“Have a seat anywhere,” she states, the phone tucked between her shoulder and ear.
I’m not a chihuahua and don’t plan on being led around the school by a leash either. If I survived living with Lillian, then I can manage to find a few classes.
I rest my elbows on the table, knitting my fingers together. “Do you mind if I use the restroom?”
My smile as fake as my last name being Casper.
She seems winded as she spouts off directions that boil down to going out the door and taking a left.
I go right.
Messing up, I look over my shoulder. I know I am in the clear but I check anyway, colliding into something hard.
Shaking my head to clear the spots in my vision, a pair of arms stretch out, catching me. That something turns intosomeone.
“Are you alright?”
“I think so,” I answer, still disoriented.
“You sure?”
I open my mouth to assure him I am. The words never come, lodged somewhere deep in my throat. His perfectly straight teeth sparkle with a smile that grows at my discomfort.
My vision clears, studying his features. Sandy-colored hair, tanned skin, and brown eyes. He has my attention.
Bending down, he picks up my things that I dropped earlier, handing them back to me.
“First day?”