The morning rush to school was no different from any other day for Kara and Tara. The streets were filled with students hurrying in every direction, but the sisters moved with a quiet confidence, their steps synchronized, as they always did. Their lives had always been intertwined, and today, despite the looming pressure of their final year, they managed to maintain their usual calm. They had been here before, after all.
Their school was nothing short of impressive—a massive structure with high, ivy-covered walls and meticulously manicured gardens. Every building on campus stood as a testament to the school's long history and the generations of students who had passed through its doors. The sisters always felt a sense of pride when they walked through those gates. It wasn't because of their parents' wealth—far from it—but because of the sacrifices their parents had made to ensure their children attended such a prestigious institution. Kara and Tara knew that their parents, despite their humble background, had invested everything they had into this opportunity. It wasn't just about education—it was about giving them a future that went beyond what their parents could provide.
But today felt different. As they walked through the school's marble hallways, the weight of their final year began to settle heavily on their shoulders. The hallways, once familiar and comforting, now seemed endless, each classroom door a reminder of the challenges they would face in their last year before university. Every student around them seemed to be rushing, moving with a purpose, and for a moment, it felt as if time itself was moving faster than they could keep up.
"Can you believe it's our last year here?" Tara muttered, glancing at her sister as they moved down the hall.
"I know," Kara replied, adjusting the strap of her bag. "It's a bit surreal. It feels like just yesterday we were freshmen, and now look at us—about to finish high school and step into the real world."
"Yeah, the real world…" Tara replied, her voice a little quieter now. She wasn't sure she was ready for everything that lay ahead. University applications, final exams, and the pressure to make decisions about their futures weighed heavily on her mind.
As they reached the classroom, they saw that most of the students were already seated, talking in hushed tones. The bell had just rung, signaling the start of their first class—Mathematics, one of the subjects that both excited and terrified them. The class was set to begin at 7:30 AM sharp, and the twins entered the room just in time—7:28 AM—making sure they weren't late. However, the lateness of arriving just before the bell wasn't lost on them. They slipped into their seats quickly, side by side, as they always did, sitting near the front. Despite the fact that they weren't technically late, there was still that nagging feeling that they had barely made it in time, and that always bothered them.
Just as they settled in, the door to the classroom opened, and in walked their teacher, Mrs. Hamilton, a tall, no-nonsense woman known for her sharp eyes and quick wit. She had always been strict, but she was fair, and the students respected her for it. Behind her was a student no one had seen before. The entire class fell silent as they turned their attention toward him. Roman Hale, the new student, was taller than most of the boys in the class, with dark brown hair that fell messily over his forehead in a way that looked effortless. His eyes were deep and intense, almost too piercing for someone his age. But it was his expression that left everyone stunned. He wore a passive look on his face, as though he couldn't care less about being there. It was both enigmatic and off-putting at the same time.
Mrs. Hamilton, unfazed by the tension in the room, gestured toward him. "This," she said, her voice commanding attention, "is Roman Hale. He will be joining our class A3 for the remainder of the year."
The room buzzed with whispers. It wasn't every day that a new student joined a senior class this late in the term, especially a student who seemed so... detached. Mrs. Hamilton turned to Roman with a soft smile, attempting to make him feel welcome. "Roman, why don't you introduce yourself?"
Roman's voice was quiet, almost too soft, but it cut through the silence like a knife. "Nice to meet you," he said, his tone flat and indifferent. He didn't offer any more information, didn't share any details about himself, and it left the class hanging, unsure of what to make of him.
The teacher seemed slightly surprised by his brief introduction but quickly regained her composure. "Well then," she said, brushing it off. "Roman will be sitting next to Tara." She gestured to the desk beside Tara, who was already starting to feel a strange unease building up in her chest. She hadn't expected this. It felt like a bad omen, sitting next to someone so... unreadable.
Roman walked to his seat, his movements calm and deliberate. As he settled into his desk, his gaze briefly met Tara's. He didn't smile, didn't make any attempt to engage. His presence was quiet but commanding in its own way. The class seemed to hold its breath as he took his seat, and the room felt just a little colder.
Tara, feeling the awkwardness of the moment, tried to maintain her composure. She forced a small smile, glancing at Roman as he sat down. "Hi, I'm Tara," she said, her voice hesitant but polite. "Nice to meet you."
Roman barely looked up, his eyes half-lidded as he responded in a tone that was both soft and flat, "I know."
Tara's eyebrows furrowed in surprise. The casualness of his response, the lack of interest in engaging with her, stung in a way she wasn't prepared for. No one had ever spoken to her like that—so indifferent, so… distant. It was as if she were invisible to him, and that bothered her more than she cared to admit. She forced herself to look away, trying to ignore the odd feeling gnawing at her.
Kara, seated next to Tara, noticed the subtle shift in her sister's demeanor. She leaned in slightly, her voice a quiet whisper. "Did you hear that? He sounds like he couldn't care less about talking to you."
Tara sighed, her irritation bubbling to the surface. "Yeah, I heard. Who talks like that? It's like he doesn't even care. I don't want to talk to him again. Ever."
Kara, always the more level-headed of the two, placed a hand on her sister's arm. "Calm down, Tara. He's just different. Not everyone's going to act the way you expect them to. Don't let it bother you."
For the rest of the morning, the twins tried to focus on the lessons at hand. Mathematics, the subject they both struggled with but had always found some sense of enjoyment in, felt like it dragged on longer than usual. Roman barely participated, answering only when directly asked, and his responses were always brief and to the point. His presence in the room was like a heavy, unspoken tension, and everyone seemed to adjust their behavior around him, unsure of how to treat him. It was clear that Roman wasn't interested in fitting in—he didn't care about making friends, and that made everyone nervous.
The bell rang at last, signaling the end of the period, and the class quickly dispersed to their next sessions. Kara and Tara exchanged glances as they gathered their belongings. They were relieved to be free of the awkwardness, but they couldn't shake the feeling that they hadn't seen the last of Roman.
Tara turned to Kara, her mind still on the new boy. "Do you think he's going to be like that all the time? Because I don't know how I'll survive if I have to sit next to him every day."
Kara shrugged, her expression neutral. "We'll see. Maybe he's just having a bad day. But whatever it is, we've got bigger things to focus on this year, right? University, exams... that project—"
Tara didn't respond immediately. Her thoughts were still on Roman, his distant manner, and the strange feeling that came with his presence. Whatever was going on with him, it wasn't something she could easily forget.
But for now, they had to focus on the day ahead. The project, the classes, the looming exams—there was a lot to prepare for. And as the twins walked to their next class, they both knew that this year was going to be different. How different, they weren't sure yet—but they could already feel it in their bones.