The homework of my first day was just as unbearable and agonizing as the actual day. It felt like they had all planned to bury the new girl under pounds and pounds of paper and books.

I was sitting at my desk, scribbling away furiously, when there was a small knock at the door.
“Come in.”
My father stepped through the threshold, holding our pathetic black phone in his hand and said,
“It’s boy for you. Make it short, you have…homework.” My father obviously does not appreciate Boys calling for me.
I grabbed the phone from his reluctant hand and offered a soft:
“Hello?”
“Hi, Anna?”
“Yes.” I gripped the phone cord. I didn’t recognixe the voice from Colorado or from anyone I know.
“Hi, I’m James. I’m from school. What’re you doing tomorrow?” the unrecognizable voice asked.
“How did you get my number?” There was pause, then:
“I…asked around.” he said. I waited for some kind of thought to pop into my mind, some idea of what to say. He asked around? Well, who did he ask? (cont. in next part)