Christina:

As I tread slowly down the echoing hallway, a profound sense of isolation washes over me. I feel like a ghost, spectrally drifting through a vibrantly colorful world where I don’t quite belong. The cheerleaders bubble with laughter in their tight-knit groups, their voices harmonizing like wind chimes caught in a gentle breeze, while the clique girls exchange whispered secrets, their eyes sharp and glimmering with judgment. The preppy students stride confidently, their polished appearances and designer clothes a stark reminder of the divide between us. The jocks, with their broad shoulders and boisterous laughter, seem completely immersed in their bubble of camaraderie and competition. 

Lowering my gaze, I shuffled forward, my heart heavy as I navigated the sea of unfamiliar faces toward my first class. I had made a conscious effort to stay under the radar this entire year, hoping to blend into the background and avoid drawing attention to myself. But, of course, fate has a way of intervening. Suddenly, with a jolt, someone collides into me with unexpected force. My breath catches in my throat.

Just my luck.

“Watch out!” A guy suddenly called out, his voice cutting through the air. He had striking lapis lazuli-colored eyes that glimmered with an intriguing mystery, and his shaggy, night-black hair fell carelessly around his face. I watched in dismay as he inadvertently knocked over everything I was holding, sending pens and papers tumbling to the ground. He glanced at me, a hint of regret in his expression. “Oh, it’s you. Christina, isn’t it? Sorry about your stuff. Do you need any help?” he asked, his voice softening with genuine concern.

He had a calming voice, rich and melodic, like a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves on a quiet afternoon. There was a certain warmth in it, a reassurance that wrapped around you like a cozy blanket, capable of easing even the most frenzied thoughts.

“No, thank you,” I replied curtly as I felt a warm blush creeping onto my cheeks. Now everyone was looking at me. With a gentle sigh, I glanced downward to gather the papers scattered around me. The slight warmth in my face only deepened as I focused on the task, the mix of gratitude and embarrassment swirling within me. Now everyone was talking about me for sure. 

“Well, actually…” I paused, my voice softening. I had just received a new schedule because my parents couldn’t accept my being placed in lower-level classes. Now, I had to navigate the labyrinthine halls and relearn where my classes were.

He’s dressed in a crisp white tee, the fabric catching the light just right, and layered over that is a flannel shirt casually draped as if it were his outerwear. The colors of the flannel were a rich mix of deep reds and forest greens, adding warmth to his appearance. His jeans were well-fitted, complementing his lean build as he leaned down to retrieve the scattered items.

As he bent to help me despite my protest, I couldn't help but notice the constellation of freckles dusting his nose and cheeks, like a sprinkle of stars across a night sky. Instantly, he transported me back to memories of an attractive boy from my old school, the kind who captured attention effortlessly. Something is enchanting about the way his features harmonize, the delicate line of his jaw, the gentle curve of his lips, and those bright, expressive eyes that seem to hold entire galaxies. 

“Here you are,” he said with a warm smile, handing me the remainder of my belongings. He carefully adjusted my schedule, making sure it doesn’t slip from his grasp. “Is this a new schedule? If you’d like, I can show you to your first class. It’s just down this hallway.” He gestured with confidence, his enthusiasm evident as he waited for my response, clearly eager to help me navigate this new environment.

He’s gotta be a jock.

“Are you insinuating that I can’t find a class on my own?” I retorted, though part of me was grateful for his help.

“I have the same class,” he took my free hand, leading me to AP English III, and hopefully not a dark alleyway where he’d slit my throat. I have good combat skills, though. I could take him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him assessing me too. Probably judging me. I wore an oversized white t-shirt, a pair of black jeans, and white sneakers. I had red, wavy hair, and my shape was no head turner, I’ve got to admit. Especially since I’d gone out of my way to downplay it. But I had my eyes. Each school I went to elicited different reactions. Primary school kids were afraid of me. In secondary school, I was an outcast because of them until one of the popular kids claimed me as their own.

“So, do you have a nickname?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“Um… I don’t know,” I shrugged, “Just Christina, I guess.”

“You sound proper,” he noted.

“I grew up North. North Carolina,” I reply, my voice tinged with pride as memories of my home rush back. I cherished those moments. Well, most of the time.

“How’s the weather there?” He joked.

“Same as here, just a little more sunny,” I countered blandly.

“You don’t have much humor,” he observed.

“I’m the brains of the family. My twin brother Craig is where you’ll find the humor. Calianna is the beauty. Caroline is the… wild, energetic one. The lively one.”

“I don’t think beauty is limited to only your sister,” he says smoothly, smiling. I clenched my jaw. “So, your parents did all Cs?”

“Yes. What do you want?” I got straight to the point, and his face fell as I did so.

“I want us to be friends. So does my mom. It’s a good idea to make at least one friend at a new school. You seem cool, but you don’t smile much. You didn’t at the cafe either.”

“Do you assess all people this way before they agree to be your friend? Or are you just trying to annoy me?” I snapped.

“A little of both,” he chuckled. “Oh, by the way, I’m Lucas Harrington. I don’t know if you remember. I let people I like call me Luke, though,” he cleared his throat, attempting a flirtatious tone.

“Lucas, I remember your name. It’s fitting, really. The name of a curious airhead.” I looked up into his mysterious eyes.

He towered over me, and the warmth of his gaze sent a flutter through my stomach, the kind of comfort that wrapped around you like a soft blanket after a long, exhausting day.

“Really?” Luke asked, faking surprise, and I saw the amusement lingering, dancing around in his eyes like flames.

I was relieved when we reached the classroom. Also, a bit disappointed.

Bummer he didn’t try to attack me, so I didn’t get to show off my amazing fight-or-flight skills.

The room had a mixture of nauseating smells. Not necessarily nauseating, but when you put perfume, cologne, cheap cleaning supplies, and freshly straightened hair together, it doesn’t have the most pleasant outcome.

Everyone looked up, staring intensely. Assessing me. Wondering if I was good enough to join their group. Patronizing me. So I did what I do best. 

I pretended.

“Call me whatever you want,” he smiled. 

“Two left feet?” I referred to how he bumped into me in the hallway.

“It seems like you do have humor, Carrot.” Luke smiled, leading me to a seat before I answered.

“Sure…”

“So, why did you move?”

“Ask my parents. I’m warning you that my dad is intimidating, though.”

“I’m meeting your parents already?” He grinned.

“Have you ever heard of sarcasm?”

“Enlighten me. I don’t think I have.”

“Asshole,” I grumbled, grabbing a notebook from my bag with a feigned nonchalance.

“I think Violet is a cute nickname. For your eye color.”

“I have a name.”

“What about honey?”

“Isn’t that more of an endearing term?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to mask my irritation.

“We can stick to Carrot.” He touched a strand of my hair. I inched forward, pulling it out of his grasp.

Two nicknames in less than two minutes. I’m impressed. Also kind of annoyed. I don’t think this boy is going to leave me alone. I could always try being mean, I suppose.

Lost deep in my thoughts, I didn’t hear the teacher walk in at first. But I felt it for sure. Her vibe was the most calming thing I had ever experienced in my life. I looked up, and she was standing beside her desk. Allie Gray was what the plaque on her desk said.

Wow. 

Her golden curls cascaded down her back like a waterfall, and her hazel eyes radiated warmth. Tiny hoop earrings dangled playfully from her ears. She’s dressed in a classy blue button-up and a matching knee-length skirt. A sizable ring gleamed on her left hand's middle finger. No wonder she was married; she carried herself with a magnetic charm.

I had to admit, she had style—something many teachers seem to overlook. She radiated a bright, energetic vibe. Mrs. Gray reached up to pull her glasses from her hair and placed them delicately on her face. I couldn’t help but admire her. I have a feeling she was a preppy kid in high school.

“Good morning, everyone.” She clasped her hands together. “Riley, return to your seat, please.” She said after her eyes scanned the room. Her eyes came to mine after a bigger, brown-haired, brown-eyed boy in a striped yellow and white shirt found his way to a seat, giggling all the way.

“Ah… Christina, is it?” She smiled at me.

“Yes, ma’am.” I nodded, running my fingers through my hair. My heart started to beat faster. I knew everyone was looking at me. It was nerve-racking.

“Would you like to introduce yourself?” She asked in her sweet voice.

“No, thank you.” I shook my head.

“She’s from North Carolina.” Luke provided, sitting on top of his desk.

I gritted my teeth and gripped my notebook tightly, my knuckles turning white.

“Does she have any siblings?” A girl asked.

“Three. Calianna, Caroline, and Craig.”

No wonder I didn’t like him. He was a cocky jock. An asshole, too.

I cross my arms, glaring at him. 

“I’m sure that if she wanted us to know that, she would have told us, Lucas.” Mrs. Gray said gently.

“Oh, she barely told me all of it.” Luke smiled.

For the love of God, please sit down. I was sure this asshole was going to ruin my year. I could bet on it if I wanted to. How long before little Christina, with her wide eyes and innocent curiosity, finally begs her parents to pack their belongings and vanish without a trace once more?

Mrs. Gray made Lucas sit down as I fought back tears. I hated public situations. Public situations were my kryptonite; the spotlight was not only unwelcome but suffocating. 

My fingers dug into the spiral of my notebook, twisting the metal until it bit into my skin. Everyone was staring at me. I could feel it. The weight of their eyes pressed against me from every direction.

Breathe, Christina. Just. Breathe.

I had pleaded—year after year—for my parents to let me be homeschooled, from the tender age of six to the painfully awkward fourteen. At first, it had been a long, uphill battle, filled with tears and desperate requests. I had cried and pleaded and promised that I would study harder if they’d just let me stay home. Anywhere but that hellhole.

Then, miraculously, school had become a little more bearable for a couple of years. I faced my fears and learned to navigate the chaos because I had a group of friends. Real friends that made me feel welcome, who made school feel… normal.

But that feeling never lasted long. It never did.

And the darkness had crept back in, wrapping around me like a suffocating shroud. 

Just like it’s doing again.

The day had slipped by in a dizzying blur, faces flashing past me like shadows. This new school was a stark contrast to my old one—significantly smaller—allowing me to grasp the names and quirks of my peers, but why would I want to? Isolation felt preferable, like a warm blanket on a cold night. But if push came to shove, at least I knew it wasn’t that big of a school. I found my sanctuary at lunch after choosing a table to myself, my book a comforting escape.

I looked up when I saw a tray of food and a water bottle being slid in front of me. The contents looked fairly appetizing, but I didn’t usually eat at this time. I was a snacker, not an eater. The tray had hamburger steak and gravy with mashed potatoes and a mini salad as a side. Luke must have bought the water. I was sure, like every other public school, the water bottle cost money. It was a dollar, tops. So I didn’t have to get on my knees and thank him for it.

“Hey,” Luke said, sitting opposite me, a lopsided grin on his face. 

“Hello.” I sighed,  closing my book. I was certain I wasn’t getting any reading time in anymore.

“What’s that you’re reading?” he asked, curiosity glimmering in his eyes as he slid the water over to me.

Did I look dehydrated or something?

“Nothing now. But it was The Notebook. One of my favorite classics. You have heard of it, haven’t you?” I said as I reached for the water, opening it and taking a small sip before he could scoot it any closer to me. And knowing him, he probably would have.

I could have sworn he smiled at my obedience.

Ugh.

He scoffed,  taking a bite of mashed potatoes. “Still cracking jokes, I see. How was your second block?”

“It was great without you.” I blinked, hiding my amusement. He walked into that one. I looked down at my plate of food when I realized I was fighting to hold back a smile, an internal struggle I believed I had successfully buried.  

No. I wasn’t going through this again.

“Ouch,” he fake-clutched his heart and made a groaning noise. I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile that threatened to bloom once again. I picked up my book again, seeking refuge in its pages.

But Luke wasn’t done. “Now you’re ignoring me?” His voice held a playful challenge.

I maintained my silence, absorbed in my reading, as he boldly started picking from my salad. “You brought me food, and now you’re eating it?” I said, half in disbelief, half amused. I swore I caught a glimpse of his genuine smile before he masked it with his usual bravado.

I guess we were both liars.

“You weren’t eating it anyway. Do you want it?” He offered a plastic forkful of the salad to me, and I stared at him, dumbfounded. The lunchroom seemed to be quiet around us; an invisible spotlight turned my cheeks crimson as I surveyed the cafeteria. Everyone was looking at me. Not literally, but enough people for me to feel the heat of their gazes. That was a lie; one person’s stare was enough to send me spiraling.

“No,” I said weakly, standing up. I gathered my things quickly, holding my breath. I hurried out of the cafeteria and went to the courtyard, which is the alternative place to hang out instead of the lunchroom. It was much more deserted, and I sighed, a heavy breath escaping me at the solace. I sat under a pavilion, tracing the title of my book with my fingertips. The disheveled strands of my hair fell like a curtain, giving me a welcome shield from the prying world outside. 

And then I felt eyes on me again.

When I looked up, it was only Luke looking at me. I calmed down a little. He had followed me. “Are you okay? You look faint. Pale.” He extended my forgotten water, and I took it, grateful yet embarrassed.

“I’m fine,” I insisted, my gaze falling to the ground. “I’m fine,” I repeated, a tad more firmly, looking up at him.

“Well, um…” He shuffled his feet, kicking a small rock on the ground, and I had to stifle a laugh at the awkwardness of it all. 

“Well, um, what?” I said gently.

“What are you doing tonight?” His hands sank into the pockets of his jeans, the movement somehow endearing.

“Probably unpacking more boxes and stuff at home. Why?” I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the prospect of him wanting to spend time with me outside of school. It seemed impossible for him to have been asking to hang out with ME outside of school.

My thoughts started racing.

This was a joke. He wanted to get into my pants. Which isn’t happening. Or he wanted to embarrass me. It was a dare. His friends placed bets to see if he could actually win the new girl’s affection. I’d seen the movies. I wasn’t dumb.

“Oh. Never mind then. It’s just… My friends and I always go to the skating rink on Thursdays. I thought you might like to join us.” When he spoke, his voice alleviated all of my anxious thoughts. 

How?

“My… my siblings probably have plans already. They’re a lot more social than I am. Besides, I don’t want to leave my parents alone to do all the work while we’re out.” My voice faltered as I spoke, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on my shoulders.

“Hmm.” He nodded. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?” He turned and walked away. His pep seemed upbeat, but I couldn’t help but sense the smallest feeling of disappointment. For some reason, watching him walk away made me want to pull him back and say Sure, to go out with him and his friends and embrace the chaos of his friends’ company. But fear held me shackled, and I chose to stand rooted in my solitude, watching as he walked away. I didn’t want to put myself in a social setting that would potentially stress me out. So I watched him walk away.

Tomorrow.

For some reason, I looked forward to it.

I lived in an old, expensive house. It’s painted pastel blue, perfectly trimmed roses blooming immaculately on either side of the gray concrete walkway leading up to the cream door.

The inside wasn’t too exciting, but it’s cozy and home-like. When you walked in, there was a mini mudroom. There wasn’t much other than racks to hang your coats, benches to sit down and take your shoes off, and shelves on either side of the door. The shelves had a couple of decorations: cute vases and such. But the main purpose of it was to hold the glass bowls that we all put our keys in when we walked in.

I sat down, taking my shoes off and putting my keys in my bowl. I had always been the more creative one out of the three of my siblings, so I painted strawberries and cherries on mine.

If you walked straight, you’d find yourself in the living room. There was a crimson blue couch that was placed diagonally to the fancy black fireplace, and an empty black wood rack sat next to the fireplace. All the rooms had pictures that must have cost hundreds to thousands. Half of the pictures were antiques that were passed down from generation to generation. There was an unbuilt mantlepiece and a box of pictures that’d warm even the coldest of hearts laying on the floor. The TV stand was stuffed in the corner of the room until we got around to moving it.

But there’s one feature: the beautiful, sacred oak floors. The golden planks shone with brilliant freshness and richness that you’d never believe we spent  months before our initial move here to restore the worn-down things.

If you walked to the right, there was a medium, beautiful bathroom decorated in pastel green and white. It was a small half bathroom, but it was gorgeous nonetheless. The box for the bathroom was sitting outside the door.

If you walked to the left, you entered my second-favorite room: the kitchen. Also, the only fully decorated room. The kitchen was pretty big. The kitchen colors were white and soft, light splashes of a teal shade. We had it redone before we moved in as well. It had a marble island in the middle, and it was fully equipped with modern appliances. Behind the counters, which were also marble, was a teal, gold, and white backsplash on the wall. The kitchen had a clear sliding door that led to the backyard, where our pool was. I’m sure sometime this school year I’d have to hide in my room because of a pool party thrown by a sibling. 

I made my way to the shiny oak stairs, running my fingers along the banister as I climbed the stairs. Upstairs, there were four bedrooms and four bathrooms. Thank the heavens that my sister, Caroline, and I had rooms that connected through the bathroom, so technically we got our own bathroom. In my old house, I had to share a bathroom with every sibling. It was chaotic as hell. 

My parents got their own master bathroom, Craig had his own, and since Cary (what we call Caroline) and I shared one, the guest room person had a bathroom, too. We all knew the guest room was Calianna’s when she came home from college to hang out or for a break.

I looked around the house, sighing. It was my fault that my siblings had to up and leave their friends and everything they were comfortable with. And nobody even knows why. I entered my room with a heavy weight on my shoulder.

They never complained about it, but I know deep down they resented me for it. They had good lives in North Carolina. I looked around my room.

In the center of my bedroom was a four-poster canopy bed placed between two of my windowsills, with hangings draping it. My parents had had my frame hand-carved somewhere. Italy? China? Venice, maybe? On the headboard, there were roses carved into the wood, and the same at the foot of the frame. My bed itself had a silk down-filled pink coverlet and about a million pillows and four bears on it.

I dodged all of the unopened boxes in my room and walked over to my vanity, running my fingers across the white table. I sat at the desk, looking in my lighted mirror. I stared at myself for a moment, wondering if this was the same way everyone earlier had been looking at me. First, when Luke ran into me, and then again when I fled the cafeteria.

“Hm,” I murmur. Each time I encountered him, I always seemed to draw attention. I wonder how important he was to the school. It would be really fucking cliche if he were the football quarterback. I smiled to myself. I stood up abruptly, walking over to my window seat. The plush, pink cushion comforted me.

I had asked my dad to build it when we came to look at the house for renovations after we bought it. Craig asked for a gaming den, which was denied and was compromised for a gaming system inside his room instead instead. Cary asked for a walk-in closet. I felt like I was asking too much, considering how he already had to pay so much for everything else my siblings wanted. But nature calmed me down. I stared out, looking at the pool water rippling and admiring the beauty of it all. A couple of birds were perched on some of our seats, looking around.

“Unpack,” I ordered myself, turning my speaker on and playing Pierce the Veil.