[h1][color=FFFF00]Belle[/color][/h1]
[hr]
Belle hugged her notebook to her chest, looking up at the door that loomed in front of her. The dreaded 'first day' had been and gone; rapid-fire and blunt, like many firsts in life - built up to and ultimately disappointing, underwhelming. An excitement for a new experience, only to find it overly similar to all the others already felt. [i]Social Conscious[/i] was new, however; perhaps the newest thing on campus. New teacher, new class, new year...new room? No. Just because Belle had never tread these floors before did not mean they were [i]new.[/i] She triple-checked the number on the door with the number she had scrawled on the back of her hand, and then smoothed herself down - a simple white shirt, tucked in to black jeans and wedges.

She was still looking at the door when a skinny, over-clothed boy opened it in front of her. Belle started slightly, letting out a slight gasp, before giggling softly, a warm smile breaking out over her face. Only Aiden, and she was glad to see him again.  She followed him in, sitting slightly behind as she set her notes down on the table in front of her. Mr. Lehrer - Jonas - stood at the front, tall and proud. The blackboard on the wall had three simple words scribbled on it in scratchy, quickened handwriting: "WHO AM I?" Belle looked upon it solemnly, thinking of all the ways the question could be posed, and all the ways it could be taken. 

It took Jonas three minutes before he challenged the class with it, and for a second Belle thought he had started early before realizing this [i]was[/i] everyone in the class. In front of her, reactions varied; Aiden scribbled notes furiously and without caution; a girl to her side simply waited, and a boy further in front of her answered with a cavalier remark about one of Jonas' previous classes, and the reputation the man was already building for himself. Belle paused; how did she desire to present herself to this group? These were not socially or para-socially related people, nor were they all of the same academic caliber or achievement. Jonas himself was an unknown quantity, a new professor on his first day that had somehow accomplished the difficult task of creating his own private class that not only appeared to have an exclusive, hand-picked cast, but also took priority as a closing period, forcing the schedules of those involved to adapt to it, rather than the reverse. Belle raised her hand, and smiled politely when Jonas nodded towards her.

[color=FFFF00]"It depends, sir."[/color] She started, lowering her arm, gripping her notebook with both hands, and clearing her throat as she felt the eyes of her classmates fall upon her. [color=FFFF00]"[i]You[/i] are a young teacher, obviously accomplished in your career and with some kind of prestigious reputation behind you, to be able to put this together."[/color] 
Belle paused, waiting for a response. Jonas gave none, only a lingering, stony glare that betrayed little. Belle continued.
[color=FFFF00]"[i]We[/i] are a mismatched group of near-adults, none of whom float within the same social or academic circles. So there's an ulterior motive to gathering us, or a shared quality none of us are aware of."[/color]
Again, Jonas gave her nothing. Belle stuttered a little, his intense gaze giving her anxiety.
[color=FFFF00]"And [i]I[/i] am a French-born girl with a severe gene malformation that nearly killed her before an experimental treatment saved her life with unparalleled results."[/color] Her voice came out strong, despite her body shaking. There wasn't any part of her immediately post-natal and pre-USA life that most of the school didn't already know about. 

She cleared her throat and opened her notebook, pulling a pencil from her pocket and beginning to twist it between her forefinger and thumb as the anxiety climbed within her.
[color=FFFF00]"I-I'm not sure how else we take the question, s-sir."[/color] She finished, before scribbling 'YOU', 'WE' and 'I' on the first empty page she could find.