I made my way through town, my nerves having calmed down; they were no longer prickling and raising the hairs on my arms. After what happened, one would think I'd be panicking since it seemed so easy to get that way with me anyway. That is the perfectly rational reaction to everything and I was confused, and most definitely panicking but I just hadn't registered it yet. I thought that I was leaving everything behind but it just didn't seem to affect me. And it wasn't just my school or my apartment, it was my life. My home, my father, my—my whole reason for being. It wasn't perfect, but then nothing ever is.
As a teenager, it was hard to get out of a group home. Not many people wanted to adopt a moody teen suffering from hormones that made them horny. Luckily for me, I was one of the few that was. Or maybe it wasn't luck.
My foster dad wasn't ready to be a parent but he was an impatient person and he wanted to jump to the next step in life, even if he was alone—or maybe that was just it: he was lonely.
Either way, I grew up with little to no guidance in life after a rough thirteen years that I'd rather forget. But I was still conflicted about what to do about my dad. Even if he wasn't there, he did take me in and provided for me. I was thankful. He was probably the only person that came close to being someone I loved.
I probably should have prepared myself mentally and physically but all I did was continue to school.
First day of college.
There was no point to it. One, I was late already. And two, this was also my last day, if everything Cedric said had been true.
But I couldn't expect that. What if I was going crazy? What if Cedric wasn't real and I just made him up in my head to make myself feel better? Why would a king want anything to do with me?
I'm not worth anything like that.
I shook my head. No. I should just assume everything was a lie or just some figment of my imagination. I had to prepare for the realization so I sped up my walking until I finally reached the university.
The main building was intimidating, to say the least. The white stone and tall dormers reminded me of a castle, the dormers resembling spires cursed to forever reach towards the sky and never touch it. The black doors and windows seemed unnaturally large, so much so a man twice my size could fit through it. I hugged my bag to my chest, swallowing down the lump in my throat, attempting to tame the fire in my chest along with it.
With a deep breath, I made my way to the doors but before I could reach it, something crashed into my shoulder and I tumbled to the ground, my bag splaying open and spilling its contents across the ground, my body collapsing on top of it. I felt something break beneath my knee.
"What the fuck?" I asked, too stunned to censor myself as I pulled myself to my knees and looked up.
"Crap, I'm sorry," said the man above me. Looking at him, he couldn't have been much over a year older than me. His hair was wavy, dropping down to just under his pierced ears, a few strands tucked behind them. His roots were onyx black but it slowly fell into a wine red color as it stretched towards the ends. His body was lanky, thin, covered in a dark green hoodie and a pair of black jeans, topped off with a pair of black boots that rose to just below his knees.
Honestly, the first thing I thought was that he looked like a complete asshole. I would never say that out loud, though.
"Shit, are you alright?" he asked, kneeling down beside me, his eyes narrowed a bit.
I nodded, pulling myself to rest on my haunches and look down at the mess. Damn, I'd just reorganized, too.
"Here, let me help you," he said, hurrying to collect the papers, stacking them together and tucking them in an empty folder before moving on to the next thing. I didn't say anything as I began to collect the supplies, too.
I stopped when my hands brushed a blue sliver of broken plastic, clicking against the other pieces. As I studied the pieces, my chest tightened once more, my hands heating up and tingling.
"Oh shit, I'm sorry," he said, his eyes on the broken plastic.
"It's fine, that was my fault," I said, my voice a broken whisper as I ducked my head even lower.
"I used to struggle with something like that, too," he said, gesturing to the broken inhaler in my hands, and I couldn't help but look up at him. His eyes were squinted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, a small smile on his face. "But it'll get better, I promise."
I frowned, looking down once more. That's what they always say. They always say to push through, that you have to get to the top of the hill before you can start to go down. What a terrible lie, it was. How cruel, they were.
"I'm really sorry, man," he said once again.
Why is he apologizing? It was your fault, you should have been paying attention. You don't deserve an apology.
"I said that it's fine," I said, brushing away the broken inhaler and focusing on my breathing as I stuffed the rest of my supplies into my bag. His constant talking was started to clog my throat and fog my brain. He was too extroverted for someone like me.
"But it's really not. I'll make it up to you. You go to this college?" He asked, jerking a thumb to the entrance. I nodded stiffly. "Cool, then I'll say it was my fault you were late, and I'll buy you lunch! How's that sound?" He leaned toward me, a strand of his bi-colored hair falling into his face.
How could someone like him struggle with any sort of social disability? He was so outgoing, there was no way. He must have just said that to sound relatable.
You shouldn't have thought any different. There isn't someone in the world as broken as you. You're all alone.
I shook my head subtly, my mind thinking back to the man—Cedric.
"This position is offered to people who have been through a tough life."
"You're put into a group of others similar to you"
As I placed my last book in my bag, I stood up, shrugging lazily, my eyes cast downward. "You really shouldn't," I said. Even if he was just trying to be nice, he didn't understand that I'd rather this interaction be a one-time thing and not morph into a friendship. Friendships didn't last long.
"But I want to." His face fell as he followed me up, tucking his hair behind his ear. I then noticed that he was shorter than me, at least four inches shorter. "At least let me cover for you being late."
I sighed quietly. "You do what you want," I said, averting my gaze.
"Alright!" He celebrated, following me into the building. "By the way, the name's Keo," he said, reaching his hand out.
I shook it lightly. "Ryker," I offered, taking my hand back as quickly as possible without seeming rude. He smiled widely.
"Cool name," he said before walking up to the secretary and striking up a short conversation like they were old friends. I shook my head. He was the total opposite of me, how could he have anything that affected his social interactions negatively? He was so outgoing and, despite my first thoughts, he seemed like a nice guy.
I joined him at the window, keeping my head down as they spoke.
"Anyway, he should be excused, it was my fault for making him late," he continued, flashing a wide, charming smile.
"And what's your name, young man?" the secretary asked, turning to me expectantly.
"Uh, its—"
"It's Ryker Schofield," Keo cut in proudly before turning to me. "I'll see you later." He then hurried off, leaving me alone in front of the secretary. Something about what he said piqued my interest, but I couldn't put my finger it.
He couldn't have known he probably wasn't going to see me later but he seemed so convinced, as if he knew something I didn't. Maybe it was just my imagination.
"You're excused, just make your way to class and you'll be alright," the secretary said, cutting off my train of thought.
"Um, thank you," I said before making my way down the hallway. As I got closer to my class, Keo's words tickled the corner of my mind, teasing it.
I knew that something was wrong with his words but I couldn't grasp it so I ignored it and slowly went back through our conversation that we'd had before entering the school. I reached my class, pushing the door open. The professor only spared me a glance before going back to explaining whatever he was presenting on the screen. As eyes homed in on me, I felt my face heat up, my feet only carrying me faster up the steps and to an empty seat.
I sat down and pulled out my books. On each notebook, my name was written.
Ryker Schofield.
A name that isn't even your own.
The class went by excruciatingly slow before I had a break and then I had to return to class. I didn't know what to do on break. Eating in the crowded cafeteria wasn't very appealing but then again, neither was a public cafe, so I ended up sitting on a somewhat secluded picnic table in the park just outside of campus. It was placed just under a tree and far enough from the center that any people that were at the park were at a good distance. I felt somewhat comfortable.
I didn't have any food but I wasn't hungry. All I had was a bottle of apple juice that I'd bought from a vending machine on my way over and that was satisfactory enough. My papers and notebooks were spread out all over the table, erasers and markers acting as anchors to keep them from being carried away by the wind.
I breathed in the fresh air, allowing it to cleanse my lungs. In San Diego, the air was usually washed with the smell of bread and coffee or the smell of diesel and smoke. I'd lived here my whole life and I knew the worst of the scents. But ever since I'd moved in with my foster dad, I hadn't smelled the sickening smell of mold walking through an alley or the murky scent hinted with copper that always came with the rusted gutters. Even though the air in the park was filled with the smell of rotting food from nearby trash cans, it was so much better than plenty of the foster homes I'd been in.
As the thought came to mind, I thought about my social worker. He was probably the only person that I knew cared for me. After so many years of jumping around, seeing him each day became almost ritual. I had to admit that I missed him.
He was the one who gave me my name.
Hadn't Keo said my name, I wondered. Yeah, he did. I'd told him what it was and he'd told the secretary for me right before leaving. My eyes widened, realizing what had been bugging me—realizing what was so odd about what Keo had said. The realization raced through my body, lifting a weight off my shoulders and adding a new weight at the same time.
How did he know my last name?