My combination idly is twisted on the lock, and with no effort I open it instantly. Grabbing my books, I slam it shut, but being full of junk, it takes a couple of tries. Thank God the line rapidly diminishes, and I get a stall. The bathroom is a cloud of chatter, the air is thick with the smell of smoke. I hold my breath until I've washed my hands and get into the hall where, with one minute left, I spray myself with perfume on the way to art.
Art is pretty uneventful.
I quickly pop out the assigned sketch and spend the rest of the time working on an independent project, pottery, an entry for my portfolio to be used later for a college application. When I get to the cafeteria, it's the usual barbaric scene of wild chatter and eating. I've got 15 minutes to wait in line for the snack bar and chow down a bagel, chips and iced tea. I find my usual table and join my friends in a deep conversation about who's going with whom to the prom and what they are wearing. With moments to spare, I step into the history portable and pop a piece of Trident into my mouth before the teacher sees.