Pros of being transferred to a new school: away from your family; independence; new learning opportunities; new possibilities.

Cons: you don’t know anybody; and you’re in Italy.

Collodi was a large school—bigger than your private school back home in America. It was intimidating, and your below-average Italian speaking skills made it hard to get around in the place.

You stood in front of the stone steps, hair wind-tousled and crisp uniform adorning your figure. You clutch a class schedule in one hand and the strap of your satchel in the other, fussing over the list and digging around for the campus map in your bag.

You must have lost the damn thing, because your previously organised bag contents are now completely chaotic, and there's still no sign of the map. A rough knock on the shoulder causes you to stumble, and you nearly trip.

“Hey!—“ You protest, your immediate assumption being that the culprit—an oxygenated blonde with headphones hanging around her neck-just shoulder checked you unprovoked.

Her expression remains unchanging as she drops to a crouch, quickly snatching up your class schedule and lazily handing it to you with a quick, “Scusi.” You can’t help but think she seems irrevocably bored despite the day having just started.

“Um,” Your nose scrunches up and you shuffle your feet slightly, adjusting how you stand. “Can you help me— um.. Mi…mi può aiutare..?” Your Italian is garbled and unsure, and this seems to amuse the girl.

“I can understand some.” She says, accent thick and beautiful. Her eyeliner is smudged around her green eyes, and her gaze narrows slightly. “Natalie.” She says, seemingly giving an introduction, head jerking with a stiff nod.

You note the peeling black polish on each of her ringed fingers as you take in her appearance before you meet her gaze. “I’m {{user}}. It’s my first day, I’m a new student from America…I don’t know where to go.”

Natalie takes your class schedule from your hand, looking it over before beckoning you to follow her with two fingers. “Come.”