It's the first day of Junior year, and Preston did not miss this place even though he has been here the past 3 weeks for band camp
The faint smell of floor polish mixed with the ever-present scent of cheap cafeteria food greeted Preston as he pushed open the school doors. His backpack felt heavier than it had any right to, stuffed with a binder he wasn't sure he'd even use and a folder that already had a bent corner. He sighed. Junior year. Just two more of these to go.
The hallways were alive with noise, locker doors slamming, sneakers squeaking against the waxed floors, and the unmistakable roar of excited conversations. Everyone had something to say about their summers, except for Preston. His summer, like the past two, had been consumed by band camp.
Three weeks of sweltering heat, endless drills, and playing the same notes on his trombone over and over again until they blended into a single, haunting tune in his head. Sure, the low brass section was like his second family, but he still couldn't decide if that was comforting or just kind of sad.
Preston glanced at the clock. Five minutes to homeroom. Enough time to dodge the hyper freshmen and weave through the seniors who had perfected the art of standing in everyone's way. He adjusted the strap of his backpack and trudged forward, already anticipating the headache that would come with the first day of classes.
He didn't hate school, he just didn't care for it much, either. It was like standing in a hallway full of half-painted doors, none of them leading anywhere worth going.
And then, as Preston rounded the corner, he spotted something, or rather, someone he didn't expect.Â
As Preston rounded the corner, he nearly dropped his trombone case. Standing by the lockers, her dark curls framing her beaming face, was Karma.
"Karma??" Preston blurted, his voice rising a bit louder than intended. She wasn't supposed to be here. She didn't even go to his school, or at least, she hadn't until now.
"Surprise, babe!" she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck. Before Preston could fully process what was happening, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
Preston felt his face flush, but he kissed her back, his mind racing. When they finally pulled apart, he stared at her, still dazed. "Why didn't you tell me you were transferring?" he asked, his tone equal parts shock and disbelief.
Karma giggled, stepping back just enough to adjust the strap of her backpack. "Because I wanted to see that look on your face."
Preston blinked a few times, still trying to catch up. "Well, mission accomplished." He rubbed the back of his neck, a small smile creeping onto his face. "But seriously, when did this happen? How long have you known?"
She shrugged. "A couple of weeks. My parents thought it'd be better for me to finish high school here since they're moving to town. I wanted to tell you, but then I thought, what's more fun than surprising you on the first day?"
Preston shook his head, his heart still pounding in his chest. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"
"And yet, you love me anyway," Karma teased, linking her arm with his.
He rolled his eyes but couldn't stop smiling. "Yeah, yeah. Come on, get to class before the bell rings just let me put my trombone in the band room."
"Worth it," she said, leaning into him as they walked down the hall together.
As they walked toward the band room, Preston couldn't help sneaking glances at Karma. It still didn't feel real seeing her here, strolling through the halls like she'd been going to this school all along.
"So," Preston started, pushing the door to the band room open, "are you ready to endure the thrilling excitement of Mr. Wilkes' lectures on 'school spirit' during assemblies?"
Karma laughed, her voice echoing off the trophy-lined walls. "Oh, I'm ready. I've been training for this my whole life."
Preston chuckled as he headed to his usual corner of the band room, where he placed his trombone case in its designated spot. The familiar smell of sheet music and brass polish hit him like a comforting wave. A couple of the band kids were already there, chatting and fiddling with their instruments.
"Hey, Preston!" called Marcus, one of the percussionists. "Survived band camp and back for more, huh?"
"Barely," Preston replied with a smirk. He gestured toward Karma. "By the way, this is Karma. My girlfriend."
Marcus gave a low whistle. "Ah, so this is the famous Karma. Nice to finally meet you! Preston's talked about you during our water breaks—well, between complaining about the heat."
Karma grinned. "Nice to meet you too. I hope he didn't exaggerate. I'm not that interesting."
Preston rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. You only made my summer survivable with those late-night calls."
Karma nudged him playfully. "See? You're fine. The heat builds character."
Marcus laughed. "She's a keeper, dude. Anyway, see you at rehearsal later."
As Marcus walked off, Preston turned back to Karma. "Alright, my precious trombone is safely stashed away. Let's get you to your first class before I get detention on day one for being late."
They stepped out of the band room and merged back into the busy hallway. Karma's hand brushed his, and he instinctively laced his fingers with hers. He couldn't help but smile as he led her toward her locker, which was conveniently just a few doors down from his own.
"Any advice for the new girl?" Karma asked, scanning the rows of lockers as if searching for hidden secrets.
"Yeah," Preston said, his tone mock-serious. "Avoid the bathrooms near the gym at all costs, always say hi to the janitor, and never, ever trust the tuna casserole in the cafeteria."
Karma laughed. "Noted. Anything else?"
Preston shrugged. "Oh, and stick with me. I'll make sure you survive."
"Deal," she said, giving his hand a squeeze.
The warning bell rang, signaling the start of the first period. Preston sighed. "Guess that's our cue. Text me if you get lost, okay?"
Karma nodded. "I'll be fine. See you at lunch?"
"Definitely."
As they parted ways, Preston couldn't help but feel a strange mix of disbelief and excitement.
Preston watched Karma disappear into the crowd of students heading to their first classes, her curls bouncing with every step. He couldn't stop smiling as he made his way toward homeroom. It was strange how just seeing her here made the drab school halls feel a little brighter.
Sliding into his seat in the back row, Preston pulled out his schedule and glanced over it. Same teachers as last year for most classes—Mr. Gomez for English, Mrs. Patel for history. At least he'd already gotten used to their quirks.
"Yo, Preston!" a familiar voice called out. He looked up to see his best friend, Jackson, plopping down into the desk beside him. "What's with the goofy grin? You win the lottery or something?"
"Better," Preston said, leaning back in his chair. "Karma transferred here."
Jackson's eyes widened. "No way! The long-distance girlfriend is now… not long-distance?"
"Yup," Preston said, the grin creeping back onto his face. "She surprised me this morning."
"Man, that's huge. So now you're basically living the dream. You've got a girl who's willing to brave this place just to be closer to you." Jackson shook his head in mock amazement. "Teach me your ways, oh wise one."
Preston laughed. "Yeah, because I totally had a say in it. Her parents are moving here for work."
"Still counts," Jackson said, giving him a fist bump. "Does she know what she's getting into with this school?"
"I gave her the basics: avoid the gym bathrooms, don't eat the tuna casserole, and stick with me."
Jackson snorted. "Solid advice. Did you warn her about Mr. Wilkes' motivational speeches?"
"Oh, that's next on the list," Preston said with a smirk.
Before Jackson could respond, the bell rang, and their homeroom teacher, Mrs. Harper, walked in. She looked just as frazzled as usual, her glasses slipping down her nose as she carried a stack of papers.
"Welcome back, everyone," she said, her voice slightly strained. "Happy first day of the school year. Let's start by going over announcements…"
Preston let his mind wander as Mrs. Harper droned on about club sign-ups and pep rallies. His thoughts drifted back to Karma. She was probably finding her first class by now, hopefully not too overwhelmed by the chaos of a new school.
By the time the bell rang to signal the end of homeroom, Preston felt like he'd sat through a week's worth of boredom. He grabbed his bag and headed out, navigating the crowded hallways to his next class.
Just as he was about to walk into the chemistry lab, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen and saw a text from Karma:
Karma: Got lost. Ended up in the art wing. Oops.
Preston: Classic rookie mistake. Want me to come rescue you?
Karma: Nah, I found it. But maybe save me at lunch?
Preston: Always.
He grinned as he slid his phone back into his pocket. Maybe this year wouldn't be so bad after all.
It had been a few weeks since Karma's surprise transfer, and things were going well almost too well. Preston found himself settling into the rhythm of school, band practice, and spending time with Karma. Their relationship, though still new, had felt effortless. But even the most effortless things could hide cracks beneath the surface.
It started small at first. Karma's texts were taking longer to reply to. She'd get distracted in the middle of conversations or give him vague answers about her day. Preston brushed it off. She was adjusting to a new school, new schedule, and new friends. He told himself that it was nothing to worry about.
But then, one Thursday afternoon, he caught a glimpse of something he wasn't supposed to see.
It was during band practice. The brass section was getting ready for an upcoming game, and Preston was lost in the rhythm of his trombone, concentrating on nailing the parts they had rehearsed for weeks. As he was packing up, he saw Karma standing in the hallway outside the band room, talking to someone. At first, he didn't think much of it—just another one of her new friends from her classes. But then he saw the way they were standing, close—way too close.
Karma was laughing at something the guy had said, her hand on his arm, her face flushed with that look she only got when she was genuinely enjoying herself. It felt... different. Almost like she wasn't the same person he knew. The guy was laughing too, leaning in a little too close as if he were about to say something even more personal.
Preston's stomach twisted into a knot. He should have walked up, interrupted the conversation, but he just stood there, frozen.
When Karma saw him, her expression faltered. She quickly pulled her hand away from the guy's arm, and the smile she had worn so effortlessly vanished. "Preston," she said softly, walking toward him, her eyes nervously glancing back at the guy who hadn't even bothered to look over.
"Who's that?" Preston's voice was cold, more controlled than he had expected.
"Uh... that's Dylan," Karma replied, her voice stumbling slightly. "He's in my chemistry class. We were just talking about the upcoming project."
"Right," Preston said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. "Just talking." He knew that wasn't all they'd been doing, but he couldn't bring himself to say it.
"Preston, you're overreacting. We were just—"
"Yeah, I can see that," he interrupted, his heart pounding in his chest. "You know, I thought this would be different. I thought we were different. But now... I'm not so sure."
Karma's face dropped, and for a moment, Preston thought he saw something akin to guilt in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
Preston turned on his heel and walked away, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the empty hall.
He had a game to get ready for and needed to get dressed he walked through the halls going into the bathroom to change into his band uniform he took off his shirt and you could see his muscles someone walked in it was someone he talked to a little but they weren't that closeÂ
"Umm Prestion why are you changing out in the open" He said
"Because we guys change around each other all the time"
Jay was a lightshin 5'8 guy with dreads he was a sophomore "Preston you ready for the game?" He asked
"
Preston pulled on his band uniform, adjusting the jacket with a practiced motion as Jay leaned against the bathroom doorframe. The sound of the game echoing down the hall was enough to make him forget, just for a moment, about the chaos in his personal life.
"Yeah, I'm ready," Preston said, trying to keep his voice steady. He had to focus. The last thing he wanted was to let his emotions spill out now. Not during the game. Not now.
Jay nodded, his dreads shifting slightly as he grinned. "Good. You know we're gonna crush it out there, right? You've been practicing like crazy."
Preston gave a small smile in return, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. We've been working hard." He looked at his reflection in the mirror, adjusting the collar of his jacket, trying to force himself to focus on something other than Karma and Dylan.
But it was impossible. The image of them, laughing and standing too close, kept replaying in his mind like a broken record. The way she had smiled at him, the way he'd almost felt like an intruder, like he wasn't even in the picture.
"Preston?" Jay's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "You good, man?"
Preston snapped back to the present, meeting Jay's concerned gaze in the mirror. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Just... just ready to play."
Jay raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing something was off, but he didn't press further. "Alright, well, let's go show them what we've got. I'll see you out there."
Preston nodded, his mind still a whirl of frustration and confusion, but he followed Jay out of the bathroom, trying to shake off the weight of what he'd seen. The last thing he needed right now was to let his personal life interfere with the game.
The band was assembling in the hallway, and the stadium lights outside were bright enough to cut through the gloom of the evening. He could hear the cheers from the football field even from inside the school. The excitement of the crowd was enough to get his adrenaline pumping, and for a moment, he let himself get lost in the rhythm of the upcoming performance.
But even as he stood with his trombone in hand, ready to march out onto the field, Karma's face lingered in his thoughts. The guilt in her eyes, the way she tried to explain it all away. Was it just a moment of weakness? Or was this something bigger? Something he wasn't seeing?
Before he could spiral into that thought again, the band leader stepped up and gave the signal. The crowd's cheers filled the air as they took their positions, and for the next few minutes, Preston did his best to drown out everything but the music. It was easier when the beat of the song and the rhythm of the instruments surrounded him, when everything felt like it had a purpose, and he didn't have to think about the mess he'd walked into.
But when the last note was played and the band began to file off the field, he caught sight of Karma in the stands, her eyes scanning the crowd. When she saw him, her face lit up with a tentative smile, but it quickly faltered when he didn't return it. Instead, he turned away, walking with his trombone case clutched in his hand, his steps faster than usual.
He couldn't look at her right now. Not until he figured out what he was going to do with all of this.
Later that evening, Preston's phone buzzed with a message from Karma:
Karma: Preston, please. We need to talk.