Bekah--Explanations Later

Flick.
Flick.
Sean McMillan was oddly comfortable in the dingy lobby outside the principal's office at Endlefield Prep. The cream walls, tinged yellow with nicotine from the '60s, were more familiar to him than those of his own bedroom. Mrs. Lincoln, the secretary, joked that the wooden chair with wine red cushioning shoved under the east facing window was forever imprinted with Sean's...(and there she would trail off, because even septagenarians are susceptible to Sean's considerable charm).
At the moment, Mrs. Lincoln was taking her lunch break, complete with a Cobb salad, in the break room down the hall, so no authority prevented Sean from methodically flipping his worn silver lighter.
Flick.
Flick.
Sean stood and stretched his long legs, shoving one hand through his dark hair. He wandered lazily around the room, perusing trite motivational posters. Determination, Hard Work, Dedication! they screamed in blocky white letters. Flipping the lighter again, he wondered how long it would take for one of the glossy posters to burn, and was about to act on his curiosity, when the obnoxious screech of Principal Grummell's door rang through the lobby like the screams of the dead in purgatory.
Deftly, Sean slipped the well loved lighter into the pocket of his jeans.
"I assure you," Grummell declared pompously, "Lucy will adapt splendidly. Endlefield Prepatory is the best school for gifted students in all of Illinois."
The slight man, only 4'10 by Sean's estimation, had the barest hint of a pooch, as is common for men his age, and thinning brown hair that he disappeared into May's Beauty Parlor to rejuvenate every six weeks. Grummell edged slowly out of his office, gesturing largely with dainty hands. Cheap pleather shoes caught on the too long ends of his gray slacks, and he grabbed desperately at Mrs. Lincoln's oak desk, catching himself at the last minute. The principal pushed his wire rimmed spectacles up his infamously pointy beak before motioning to Sean.
"One of our most gregarious students, Mr. Sean McMillan, will help Lucy adjust to the school. They share quite a few classes, and Mr. McMillan is more than capable of ensuring your daughter catches up on the last few weeks of work."
A tall, elegant woman with a bob of bright blonde hair strode out of Grummell's office, fairly dragging a younger girl­her daughter, perhaps­behind her.
"I certainly hope so." She frowned at Grummell, as though she could sense the exorbitant amount of sweat gathering on his palms, behind his knees, and underneath his arms; then, she turned to Sean and examined him like a lab specimen before quirking her lips in the barest hint of a smile. "It's very important to me that Lucy settles quickly. I feel dreadful that..." Sean scoffed quietly to himself. Dreadful? The last time he heard someone use the word dreadful was when Annie, his older sister, made him go with her to a dramatic reading of Shakespeare's sonnets.

A new voice emerged from behind the tall woman's charcoal black pantsuit, intrerupting the blonde. "Ma, really. I'll be fine, just stop fussing. " Softly, but sternly, the voice continued, "Besides, aren't you late for work?"
The woman dropped her clear green eyes to the extravagant silver watch on her slim wrist, and turned sharply towards the stately doors leading out of Endlefield. "Yes. You'll walk me to my car."
Grummell haplessly followed her out the front door, spewing meaningless platitudes and sharing "notable" facts about the school.
Sean, whose gaze had dropped to his beat up red Converse when the principal passed, sighed deeply to himself, and silently began to run through the new student program he was expected to deliver when a small tanned hand entered his line of vision.
He raised his blue eyes in the way that sent hearts all over Illinois a flutter, scanning casual brown boat shoes, light blue jeans that ended midway down a tanned calf (the same shade as the hand), a pale lavender shirt, a silver ampersand necklace, and shoulder length dark hair, finally resting upon green eyes that were the same color as the tall blonde's.
The dark haired girl smiled. "Hi, I'm Lucy."
Sean grinned slightly. "Right. Welcome to Endlefield Prep, home of the Fighting Tacos. Do you have your schedule?" She passed the small piece of paper over. "Looks like Grummell's right, we have...every class together." He checked his phone quickly, them grabbed her small hand, which was still waiting for introduction, and tugged her behind him as he strode in the down the corridor opposite his chair. "Speaking of which, we're gonna be late if we don't get a move on."
Lucy ignored his rush, and focused on, what seemed priority to her. "The Fighting Tacos?" "Yep. Explanations later, French now."