Chapter 2: First Day's Are Always Memorable [02]

My eyelids fluttered open, sluggish and heavy, and I found myself staring at a white ceiling. Long fluorescent lights hummed above me, too bright, scattering harshly over every corner my eyes could reach.

“Where…” I croaked, wincing at how pitiful I sounded; small and squeaky, like a terrified mouse caught in a trap.

“Ah, Mr. Alexander Moore, you’ve finally gained consciousness,” a female voice chimed.

I turned my head and saw a short, chubby woman with jet-black hair twisted into a messy bun, one so sturdy it held several pens jammed inside without budging whenever she moved. Odd. Fascinating. Weirdly admirable.

She wore a white nurse’s uniform, complete with apron, cap, and stethoscope. The warm, friendly smile she flashed me made me offer back one of my awkward ones, the kind I give whenever I’m completely lost.

How did I end up here? Who brought me? When did I even pass out? Those questions spun like hornets in my head, adding to my throbbing headache. I groaned, throwing an arm over my eyes to shield them from the assaulting light. Why did I have to be so annoyingly sensitive to brightness anyway?

“I’m sure it can be overwhelming on your first day at a new school,” the nurse said. “I’ve already told your sister to excuse you from all your classes.”

That made me peek at her from under my arm. “My sister was here?”

She nodded. “Ten minutes ago. She didn’t say much, just looked in on you. I’m sure she was concerned.”

“Yeah… sure,” I muttered under my breath, closing my eyes again with a sigh.

Concerned wasn’t exactly Cynthia’s brand. Our relationship was… distant. We barely exchanged words, couldn’t stand to stay in the same room longer than a minute, and the only time she tolerated me was when we shared a ride to school. (And only because Mom took the other car this morning. If she had a choice, I’d be roadkill.)

Don’t get me wrong, I love my sister. There are old memories where she really did care for me, back when I was too short to ride anything at the carnival. But now? Now she treated me more like a mildly irritating stranger than family.

“You fainted from anxiety,” the nurse continued gently. “But you’re fine. I’ll write you a slip so they won’t mark you absent.”

Before she could write, I reached out and pushed the paper away. “I don’t want to miss class.” My voice finally sounded normal again, which was nice.

She nodded, closed the curtain around me, and left.

I glanced around. The nurse’s office was much larger than expected, rows of beds with crisp ivory sheets, antiseptic mixed with lemon-scented air swirling through the AC vents. My blazer lay neatly on a nearby chair, so I slipped it on and laced up my brown loafers.

The academy’s uniform looked like something out of a fashion magazine; white button-up shirt, cream trousers, cream blazer with a winged lion embroidered on the breast pocket. Girls had two skirt options: pencil or pleated. Cynthia owned both but practically lived in the pencil one.

Sliding the curtain aside, I peeked out. The nurse waved while tending to another student, and I waved back before heading into the empty hallway.

First day and I’d already fainted. Fantastic. Mom would scold me to oblivion if she heard, unless Cynthia tattled first. Would she? …Probably. I grimaced at the thought. Mom didn’t yell or hit, but her guilt trips made you feel like a speck of dust.

With a heavy sigh, I checked my phone. Past noon. No wonder my stomach felt like a hollow drum. I started wandering the hallways, hunting for a vending machine like some desperate raccoon. Thankfully, this school was ridiculously fancy, there had to be at least one.

And there it was, tucked in a far corner. Unfortunately, someone else was already there.

He looked… familiar. Tattoos snaked up his neck, silver studs covered his ear, and a single safety-pin earring dangled like a threat. His jet-black hair was slicked back with enough gel to withstand a hurricane.

“It’d look better if you used less gel,” I blurted before I could stop myself. “Right now it’s… kinda clumpy.”

The man whipped his head toward me, glaring hard enough to make me flinch. Then his expression shifted to mild surprise.

“It’s you,” he said, his voice so deep it made me swallow hard.

“Me?” I stammered. He looked familiar, sure, but I definitely didn’t know him. Right?

“Why aren’t you in class?” he asked casually while pressing buttons on the vending machine absentmindedly.

“I just left the nurse’s office. I don't know if it's a good idea to interrupt a class halfway” I admitted, staring at my shoes with a pout.

“What happened to you?”

“I… fainted, I guess.”

He hummed, studying me with a gaze that felt like X-rays. I squirmed under it. Then his voice dropped, sharp and firm it sent shivers down my spine, “Stay out of Deacon’s way.”

“Deacon?” I echoed, finally looking him in the eye. Up close, he looked like a biker thug forced into formal-wear, still quite handsome.

“The guy you bumped into at the gate this morning.”

“The guys I bumped into. . . Oh!” Realization hit me like a tsunami and I instantly recalled. This was the man who’d called him ‘Deek.’ I instinctively stepped back making him smirk.

“Yeah, that’s more like it. You creeped me out earlier when you acted so casual.” He chuckled and walked toward me, hand reaching out. My brain went full doomsday mode, I actually squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for impact.

Instead of a punch, I got a heavy clap on the shoulder that nearly knocked the wind out of me. “Oomph!”

By the time I opened my eyes, he was already walking away, footsteps fading down the hall. My heart was pounding so loud it echoed in my ears.

I groaned, dragging my hands through my hair. “Great. First day, and I’m already a target.”

Better find my class before I met any more of Deacon’s friends, or Deacon himself. I’d rather eat glass.

I began making my way, looking for a wall with a map, it didn't take long for me to locate my history classroom, and hustled there. Only thirty minutes late on a two hour class, I could live with that.

Swinging the door open as gentle as possible, I plastered on my best apologetic smile when the teacher perked up with a raised brow. “Hello, I’m Alexander Moore. Sorry for being late, I just came from the nurse’s office.”

The teacher, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, just nodded and pointed me to the back. Crisis averted. I gave the teacher a grateful smile and slipped into the last empty seat. I was just getting comfortable when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

Curious, I turned and suddenly I felt my blood run cold.

Sitting behind me, wearing a wicked smirk, was Deacon himself.

He winked.

Perfect. Just perfect. So much for staying out of his way.

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