Exactly one year before the mysterious towers appeared, an event no one on Earth could have predicted.
"Guys, Ms. Garcia's on her way!" Someone shouted urgently as the last bit of chatter floated through the room.
At around seven-thirty in the morning, Ms. Garcia, the stern-faced teacher with a well-worn book tucked under her arm, stepped into the classroom. The lively chatter that had filled the air moments earlier dissolved as if on cue.
Students, scattered across the room in small clusters, quickly abandoned their conversations, shuffling back to their seats in a quiet hurry. In seconds, the room settled into a respectful hush, the only sound left was the faint rustling of notebooks and the soft creak of chairs being adjusted.
"Good morning, class," Ms. Garcia began, her voice calm but firm. "Before we start today's lesson, we have a new student joining us. Mr. Alcantara, you can come in now." She set her book on the desk and motioned for me to enter.
I walked in, feeling the weight of dozens of eyes lock onto me. The students didn't even try to hide their curiosity. Some leaned over to whisper to their seatmates, though their quiet gossip held no interest for me.
"He'll be with us starting today," Ms. Garcia continued, "Go ahead and introduce yourself," she instructed, her gaze steady.
"My name's Neon Alcantara. I'm eleven years old," I said, offering nothing more. Just a plain, straightforward introduction.
An awkward silence followed, lingering for what felt like minutes. Ms. Garcia, looking slightly puzzled, raised an eyebrow.
"That's it?" She asked, mirroring the confused expressions of the students.
"Yes," I simply replied, making it clear that was all I intended to say.
"Alright..."
She let the awkwardness linger for a moment before gesturing toward the seats.
"Pick any free seat. If you have questions, feel free to ask me or your classmates."
The classroom buzzed with whispers and curious glances as a girl in the front row raised her hand, halting my escape before I could leave.
"Are those contact lenses?" She asked, her voice carrying more curiosity than accusation.
Every eye in the room turned to me, including the teacher's. The hum of whispers grew louder, some debating if my eye color was real, others claiming it had to be fake.
"No," I answered simply.
The room filled with murmurs of amazement, gasps rippling through the air like a dropped pebble in a still pond.
"Then, are you mixed?" A boy sitting by the wall asked, his tone cautious but intrigued.
"No," I replied again, sensing their disbelief lingering like an itch. I couldn't blame them; if I saw someone with eyes like mine, I'd probably think the same.
Before they could pester me further, Ms. Garcia stepped in with a firm clap of her hands, redirecting attention to the board. I seized the moment and scanned the desks and spotted an empty one at the back. As I made my way there, I turned to the girl seated beside it.
"Is this seat taken?"
"No," she mumbled softly, her eyes briefly meeting mine before darting away.
I slid into the seat as Ms. Garcia began the lesson. But her words blurred into background noise, and my attention drifted. The clock ticked on, each second louder than the last. My head rested on my hand as I stared at the board, trying not to let my boredom show.
"I wanna go home already," I thought, staring blankly ahead, pretending to listen.
"Psst. Hey!"
Suddenly, a low whisper as if it were calling me broke through my boredom. I glanced to my left, and there was a boy with black hair, except for a small white streak in the middle. He sat next to me, grinning innocently as he held out a piece of candy.
"Want some?" he whispered, careful not to attract the teacher's attention.
"Thanks," I said, taking it and popping it into my mouth. The sweet taste was a welcome distraction.
"Neon, right? I'm Joshua, but you can call me Josh. Let's be friends," he said, grinning like he'd already decided.
"Okay," I replied, unsure how else to respond.
Josh's grin widened, and his eyes fixed on my face. It didn't take long for his staring to make me uncomfortable.
"Do you need something?" I asked bluntly, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, sorry. Did I make you uncomfortable?" His tone was sincere, almost apologetic.
"Yeah," I said bluntly, hoping he'd take the hint.
"My bad. It's just your blue eyes are so cool," he admitted, his gaze fixated on them as though trying to memorize every detail.
They did resemble the sky on a clear day, I had to admit.
"I get that a lot," I replied, my tone indifferent.
"Are you sure they're not contacts?"
"No. I just answered that earlier."
His grin widened, his expression a mix of admiration and disbelief.
"You've got long eyelashes and a handsome face, too," he blurted out, as if the compliments couldn't be contained. "My mom always says I've got a pretty good face, but man, you're on another level."
"I know," I said with a smirk, unbothered by the attention.
Josh stared at me expectantly, as if waiting for a compliment in return. When none came, he laughed. "At times like this, you're supposed to say something nice back."
"You can handle that yourself," I shot back.
We ended up chatting quietly throughout the class. I'm not usually much of a talker, but something about Josh made the conversation flow easily. It turns out we had a lot more in common than I expected. He'd just transferred here a week ago, and what really caught my attention was that we both switched schools for the exact same reason.
Before I knew it, two subjects had flown by, and the clock struck recess.
"Finally," I groaned, stretching as if I'd been glued to my seat for days
"Neon, are you heading to canteen? Let's go together!" Josh said, still buzzing with energy.
"Okay," I replied as I stood up, already thinking about what I'd eat. But before I could take a step, the floor beneath me started to shake. The vibration was subtle at first, almost like a low hum. Then, it grew. Desks rattled violently, and the hanging decorations on the walls swayed precariously.
"An earthquake?" The thought barely formed before instinct kicked in. I ducked under my desk, gripping its legs tightly.
Screams erupted around me. My classmates were panicking, and I could hear terrified shouts from the rooms nearby. The sounds of fear echoed through the school. I wasn't exactly calm, especially considering we were on the fourth floor.
Moments later, Mr. Gonzales, our PE teacher, burst into the room, his broad shoulders nearly taking up the doorway. He moved quickly, checking on everyone and trying to keep us calm.
"Stay under your desks, class!" he commanded, his deep voice growing. "Don't move until it stops!"
That's when I noticed the ceiling fan above the girl next to me. It wobbled violently, its screws loosening with every jolt. The base looked like it could give way at any second. She was too terrified, too absorbed in her tears, to see it.
"Oi! Move!" I shouted, waving my arms to get her attention. But the noise drowned me out, and she was too lost in her tears to notice.
"Hoooy!" I yelled louder, frustration rising. She still didn't hear me. I thought about calling Mr. Gonzales, but he was busy calming the others.
I couldn't wait. The fan tilted dangerously, seconds from falling. Without thinking, I crawled out from under my desk.
"Neon! What are you doing?" Josh yelled, his voice tight with panic.
"Stay there!" I yelled, rushing toward the girl.