#nj001

It was rare that Nomi was late. Not unheard of, but rare. When it did happen, like today, it was generally due to circumstances beyond her control. Such was the case today, where an accident on her way from work had her sliding into the school building a full 30 minutes late. Of course, by the time she arrived, couples had--well--coupled off, leaving her options for seating limited. She could sit next to Scott Lambrin, the father of one of the boys in Toby’s class, and a notorious creep. Or next to Greta Veil, insufferable, self-righteous homophobe.

Or, she could sit next to June Sun. All things considered, not her ideal spot, but better than the remaining options. She crept across the room quietly and slid into the seat next to the woman, and pretended not to hear the whispers behind her. “Sorry,” she muttered, pulling out a notepad and doing her best to listen to the headmaster drone on and on about nothing interesting or important. It was a challenge normally, but made more so by the fact that June was next to her. For some reason, that was especially distracting today.

When the headmaster finally stopped bloviating and parents were released into the courtyard where drinks and hors d’oeurves were waiting for them, Nomi looked to her side. Was it weirder if she said something, or said nothing? Nomi couldn’t tell for certain, but she felt as though she had to decide quickly. “Sorry,” is what came out of her mouth--not a great start. She paused, feeling as though she’d already made a mistake. But, as they say, in for a penny, in for a pound. “About being late, I mean.” And about sitting next to you and also about this conversation. “There was an accident. On the road, I mean. And I wasn’t in it. I was just stuck waiting because of it. Sorry.”