I sat in the empty classroom long after he'd left, as though waiting for him to return. The thought of stepping outside, facing the trickle of early arrivals, made me hesitate. It wasn't crowded yet, but that hardly mattered. What if someone walked in here and found me? The possibility was enough to jolt me to my feet and push me toward the door.
I think I passed the main office while exploring earlier, but this place is so confusing that I can't remember what floor it was on—or how to get there now.
"You must be new here," a voice said behind me. I turned to see a girl slightly shorter than I was, with brown hair and a bright smile that lit up her face.
"I pretty much know everyone that is anyone in this school, and I've never seen you before." She said, all happy.
"Well, I'm not anyone," I said, crossing my arms with a shrug.
"Ha. Ha. So funny," she grumbled, but her smile didn't falter. "My name is Rose," she added, her voice bouncing back to its preppy tone.
"Lyra."
"Cool name. Anyway, none of my friends are here yet, so I can show you around." She offered with a grin so bright that it almost seemed insincere.
"That means a lot," I replied. And it did. Rose might be a little too eager, but she was the only one who'd offered to help.
"Do you have your schedule yet?" she asked.
"Nope." I said popping the 'p'.
"Then let's start from there." We made our way to the main office.
The main office smelled faintly of printer ink and air freshener, a strange mix of new paper and artificial lemon. The walls were painted a neutral beige, with motivational posters pinned up—"Strive for Greatness!" and "Respect Starts Here!"—faded from years of exposure to sunlight. A large counter stretched across the room, separating the staff from the steady flow of students and parents.
Behind the counter, shelves overflowed with binders, stacks of paper, and a few framed photos of the staff at holiday parties. A receptionist sat at her desk, typing away with quick efficiency. She looked up with a warm smile, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose, and gestured for me to approach.
To the right of the counter, a row of plastic chairs lined the wall, each one looking slightly uncomfortable. The sweet older woman handed me my schedule and locker number, telling me to have a great first day.
"We should meet up for lunch; I can introduce you to all my friends," Rose said, walking me to my first class as if it was the best idea she had all day. I have mixed feelings about her, but she was nice enough to show me the bathroom, and she walked me to class.
"People in this school aren't kind, but they aren't mean either; so don't worry so much, you'll fit right in as the perfect background character," she said, not even bothering to lower her voice.
I blinked, unsure if I should feel offended or laugh it off. Background character? That was a first. She didn't wait for me to respond, though; just kept walking ahead like her words were a compliment.
Everybody here seems to know everybody else. I bet they've been together since elementary school, their friend groups locked tight like puzzle pieces in a set I didn't belong to.
Yeah, no thanks. I'd rather fade into the background on my own terms.
"I can't wait to introduce you to all my friends!" Rose squealed, spinning on her heel and bounding off before I could even fake a smile.
I don't want to meet her friends. I don't think I like her; she's too... much. And I doubt her friends will be any better. I sighed and dragged myself into the classroom.
The second I stepped inside, every head turned. Conversations stopped mid-sentence, replaced by an eerie, crushing silence. Time slowed to a crawl as dozens of eyes burned into me, their stares like tiny, invisible flames licking at my skin. My throat tightened, and I forced my legs to carry me to the back of the room, as far from them as possible.
I dropped into an empty seat by the window and stared outside, pretending the world beyond the glass was more interesting than the faces still stealing glances at me. I tried to focus on the clock, willing the minute hand to move faster.
It didn't.
The teacher walked in just before the bell rang, snapping me out of my haze. Only then did I allow myself to notice the class around me.
As a trained killer, you learn to turn your brain off sometimes. Pain is just a signal—a messenger from your nervous system to your brain. I pitied people who couldn't block it out, who flinched at every ache or sting. Pain is a distraction, and distractions can get you killed.
I've trained myself to ignore that signal, to slow the messenger down. Don't get me wrong, I'm not walking into fires or stabbing myself for fun—I'm not that crazy—but I've learned to treat pain like background noise, something I can choose not to hear.
Sometimes, without meaning to, I go into power-saving mode. It's like the world around me blurs and fades, everything muted and distant. I'm still here, still functional, but not really present. It's a side effect of the training, I guess. Or maybe it's just me.
"Good morning, everyone," the teacher said, her voice soft and gentle. She was dressed in flowery pastels, all smiles and warmth—as if she belonged in an art class rather than biology.
"It seems today we have a new student. Miss Parker, would you please come up and introduce yourself?"
I instantly began counting in my head, but it didn't help. My heart pounded, faster than I could keep up with, like it was trying to escape my chest.
I pushed myself to my feet and walked to the front, forcing my gaze to stay straight ahead despite the eyes boring into me from every direction. It felt like I couldn't breathe.
"Good morning, everyone. My name is Lyra Parker, and I hope we can all get along."
I gave the smile I'd perfected years ago—bright but hollow. I'd been practicing it since I was six, and by twelve, I had it down to an art.
I returned to my seat quickly, feeling the weight of their stares still on me. My head sank into my desk, and I closed my eyes, focusing on my breath. Ten minutes into the lesson, and the room started to blur. I focused harder, inhaling slowly, then exhaling—five counts in, five counts out.
Suddenly, the door slammed open, cutting through my haze. A breathless boy in a black hoodie stood there, looking like he didn't care about the dress code. His eyes scanned the room, briefly locking with mine.
Mrs. Randy sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You're late again, Mister Adam. This is a new semester. I was hoping for a new you." Her disappointment was thick, but she didn't raise her voice—just stared at him like she was trying to will him into better behavior.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, but his tone didn't match the words. He sounded more tired than apologetic, like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Go take your seat. I'll deal with you after class." He nodded absently, then scanned the room. His gaze landed on the empty seat next to me.
Adam shuffled over to my desk and dropped into the seat with a soft thud. He didn't even bother to sit up straight. Instead, he dropped his head onto the desk with a sigh, his hoodie still shadowing his face.
The bell rang, and the rest of the class was already packing up, talking, or laughing. But Adam didn't stir. I debated waking him up; nobody else seemed to have that thought cause they were already done packing their books and leaving the class.
I shook him a little harder than necessary. I wasn't going to sit here all day waiting for him to wake up.
"Hi. Wake up. It's time for the next period."
After a minute of my not-so-gentle shaking, he finally lifted his head, looking around with bleary eyes before cursing under his breath. He got up quickly, but not fast enough to avoid Mrs. Randy's glare. Ha. Next time, maybe he'll say thanks.
I grabbed my stuff and walked out, only to realize I had no idea where my next class was. Great. I decided to wait for the guy who'd been lectured by the teacher.
A few minutes later, he walked out, looking as tired as ever.
"Hi," I said, not giving him much time to react. He flinched, clearly not expecting anyone to be there.
"I'm Lyra." I smiled, hoping that would make him at least acknowledge me.
"Kyle," he sounded confused as to why I was talking to him, but his voice remained flat. He turned and started walking away.
I followed him. "I'm new here. Could you show me to my next class?"
He didn't slow down. Even though he was shorter than me, he walked with the speed of someone who wanted to get away from me as fast as possible.
"No."
"Pretty please, with a cherry on top?" I asked, trying to channel the voice of a girl from my old school who always got what she wanted with that line. It felt dumb, but it worked back then—why not now?
He sighed, but it seemed like he was already defeated. "Show me your schedule."
I pulled it out of my pocket and handed it to him. "Luckily, we have the same classes," he said, giving it back before walking off without another word.
We walked in silence, did I just make a new friend? I mean, sure, he doesn't seem to like me, but that's part of his charm.