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Zoe
Zoe really didn’t want to ride to school with her grandmother. She wanted to walk before it got too cold to walk. Even then, when it was too cold to walk, she’d probably want to walk, not be driven around like some third grader. But Gramma insisted. She had to do a bunch of paperwork anyway, she said. Might as well go in together.
Awesome.
It wouldn’t be bad enough being her and walking into a new school, one that was so small that a new kid was big news. It wouldn’t be bad enough watching them all stare and whisper when they saw the new behemoth with the black hair and ugly sweatshirt. She would also get to walk in with an old lady.
She loved her grandmother, but walking in with her made it clear that she didn’t have any parents. Or at least, none that wanted her. At her Missouri school, kids only lived with their grandparents when their parents were drug addicts, in prison, or both.
Awesome.
They pulled into a smallish parking lot of an oddly shaped brick building. It looked like a lollipop with a too-thick stick. One long rectangular chunk led to a giant round dome. The architecture was odd, but the building was larger than Zoe had expected, and this gave her some hope. Maybe this wasn’t such a small town after all.
Gramma opened the front door and gave her a wide smile. Could it be that she was actually excited about this? They stepped inside to the smell of carpet shampoo. Carpet? This school had carpeted hallways? She’d never heard of such a thing.
They were early enough that these carpeted hallways were empty. Gramma looked around, confused.
“The layout is different.”
Since when? Since she’d gone there? Of course it was. Chances were good they’d remodeled sometime in the last fifty years. Zoe pointed at a giant plexiglass window that was obviously the office. “I think we’re supposed to go in there.”
“Ah yes.” She toddled toward the window, and Zoe couldn’t help but smile. She was adorable.
Zoe looked around to make sure no one was laughing at them, suddenly feeling fiercely defensive of her grandmother. She was doing the best she could.
The window slid open to reveal a grumpy looking woman in a too-tight sweater. She had bright red lipstick on her teeth.
“Good morning. We need to sign up for school.”
The woman looked Zoe up and down and then tilted her head toward a closed door. “Come on in.”
Zoe followed her grandmother into the office, which was surprisingly small. A tall counter stretched the length of it. The office woman ignored them for a minute but then came to the counter and laid a stack of multi-colored paperwork in front of them. “Fill these out, and then we’ll send her ...” She hesitated and checked Zoe as if to confirm that she was, in fact, a her. Deciding that this was her best guess, she continued, “to the guidance counselor to set up a schedule.” She looked at the clock. “When she gets in.” She was annoyed, but Zoe didn’t know if she was annoyed that the guidance counselor was late or that Zoe was early. Or maybe she was annoyed because her sweater was too tight.
Gramma nodded, still looking excited. “Thank you.” She picked up a pen and started on the top page. The counter was so high, or Gramma was so short, that it looked uncomfortable.
Zoe was annoyed that they hadn’t given her a chair and table to work at. This stack of paperwork was thick. She dropped her backpack at her feet. “Do you want me to fill out some of them?”
Gramma readily handed over half the stack. “Yes, please.” She made a weird clicking sound with her tongue. “I don’t even know your social security number.”
“That’s all right. I do.” Ten minutes later, when she’d written said number a dozen times, she added, “I don’t understand how this is the most efficient way to do this.”
“What do you mean?” Gramma didn’t look up from her task.
“I mean, do we really need to tell them my name, address, and social security number twenty-seven times? Couldn’t they do that part electronically?”
Her grandmother didn’t respond. Maybe she wasn’t annoyed by it. But Zoe certainly was. With all the technology in the world, the institution charged with preparing her for said world didn’t have the technology available to simplify this process? Her phone auto-filled her Five Guys order and her mother’s credit card number while playing her favorite songs, but her school was making her handwrite her mailing address ad nauseam?
That made no sense.
She rubbed her cramping hand and then kept going, intent on protecting her grandmother from the brunt of the ridiculous paperwork load.
Her grandmother finished while Zoe was listing her sibling for the third time. Why a podunk school in Maine needed to know the name of her baby sister in Missouri was beyond her.
“I don’t have your shot records either.”
Zoe shrugged. “Call Mom. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to send them.”
“Hey!” a voice said from behind. “Didn’t I see you in church?”
She cringed and slowly turned, glad there were no other kids nearby to hear about her church attendance.
The hot guy from church grinned broadly, and Zoe’s stomach somersaulted. “Hi, Esther!” He held out his hand toward Zoe. “I’m Jason.” He looked at the woman behind the counter. “Good morning, Linda!”
Wait. Podunk students called school secretaries by their first name? She didn’t even know the name of any of the secretaries at her old school.
The woman’s expression softened at the sound of Jason’s voice.
“When she’s ready, I’m happy to give her a tour.”
“That’s very nice of you, Jason.” The secretary wasn’t annoyed anymore.
