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the front door of the school.
    I sighed with pleasure when we stepped into the lobby where the heat enveloped us, warding off the chill from outside. Judging by our surroundings, I could tell right off the bat this was going to be unlike any school we’d ever attended. Gone were the industrial light blue walls, buzzing fluorescent lights and scarred laminate countertops I was used to. Soothing taupe-colored walls were broken up by rich maple chair rails that ran the perimeter of the oversized space. Granite countertops and hardwood floors completed the warm inviting look. Twelve large bulletin boards hung around the room and judging by the decorations on them, there was one for each grade level.
    “May I help you?” A kind elderly woman asked Lucinda.
    “Yeah, I need to sign my two kids up,” Lucinda said, nodding her head in our direction.
    “That’s lovely, dear. I’m sure you two are going to love this school,” she said, addressing us.
    “I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Lucinda said, voicing my thoughts in her usual abrasive way.
    The woman looked a little surprised at Lucinda’s tone, or maybe it was her comment.
    “It’s a little odd keeping all these kids together in one school, don’t you think?” Lucinda asked, reaching in her bag for her pack of cigarettes.
    I looked away embarrassed. Lucinda absolutely hated that people could tell her where she could and couldn’t smoke. Being one to buck the system at every opportunity available, she always tried to light up anywhere and everywhere.
    “Oh, there’s no smoking in the building or on school property,” the woman said, all kindness disappearing from her voice as she looked at Lucinda reproachfully.
    “Right, of course not,” Lucinda said sarcastically, dropping her cigarettes back into her bag.
    I kept my eyes everywhere but on Lucinda and the woman who I knew was now probably judging us. This was nothing new to me.
    The door behind us opened up letting in a gust of cold air. Relieved to finally have something to look at, I turned to see who had entered the room, and nearly groaned out loud when I saw it was the swoon-worthy-dimple boy, as I had come to think of him. OMG, could this get any worse? I couldn’t help thinking to myself.
    Oblivious to my discomfort, he shot me the same dimpled smile from the night before as he walked around the granite countertop. “Hi, Mrs. Johnson, how are you doing this morning?” he said, grabbing a stack of papers off the counter in front of her. He sorted through them for a moment before distributing them in the appropriate cubbies.
    “Great, Max, how about you?” she asked in a lighter tone.
    “The same. School, work, school, slave labor, you know how it is,” he said, shooting her a smile.
    “You tell your father to stop working you so hard, or I’ll have to stage some kind of grocery store boycott," she said, trying to sound stern.
    “You know it won’t do any good, Mrs. Johnson. Anytime I even think about griping, I get to hear about how he had to walk through like ten feet of snow, ten miles each way to school every day,” Max said, laughing easily with her.
    I knew I should look away, but there was something captivating about the way he laughed with such abandon. His laughter was so warm and contagious. I could feel the corners of my own mouth pulling up to smile in response. I looked down hastily so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea.
    “Do you need me to do anything else before I head off for class?”
    “Actually, would you mind walking these new students to their classes? Kevin here should be in Ms. Davis’s class and let’s see, oh, and Katelyn will be in Mr. Graves’s class with you. Well, that makes it easy,” she said, shooting a smile my way.
    “Sure, no prob,” he said, turning to Kevin and me. “Ready?”
    “Yeah,” Kevin said enthusiastically.
    “Um, sure,” I answered, looking back at Lucinda who was busy filling out our registration papers. Part of me was anxious to