"Mom? I want to go to that fancy school in Preston."

Mom looks at me puzzled, and for a reason: It's the first time I talk to her in about forty days, ever since I dropped the phone down the stairs.

I'm basically trying to see if what my father told me was actually true and she's willing to do something I ask for a change.

"John, honey," she starts. "I'd love to be able to do that for you, but you have been enrolled in Maple Heights High School for over a week now."

"So you did yet another thing without my consent," I reply. "As everything works for you."

Mom raises her tone just a tiny bit. "I did ask you two weeks ago, but you were too busy ignoring me to give me a proper answer so I enrolled you here." She takes a deep breath.

Did she really ask me? I can't remember, maybe she did and I didn't pay attention like I don't pay attention to anything she says, because two can play that game. "So, again, it's my fault, right?"

She shrugs. "Well, if I ask you and you don't give me an answer, I have to choose myself, don't you think?"

I basically had two options for education: It was either attending a big-shot high school in the next town (which is thirty miles away, meaning a two-hours-long bus ride and waking up at about five in the morning), or Mom's choice: the local, homely, small, on-the-verge-of-collapsing Maple Heights High School, hereby and hereafter baptized as MH High aka Creepy, Dumb and Ugly place. That's what MH High stands for. Change my mind.

From the outside it basically looks like a simple, single-story old house, refurbished to accommodate the massive crowds that populate this mighty metropolis.

Just kidding. From the looks of it, there's about a hundred kids total here including middle school, which on paper sounds pretty horrible. Let's mention that this is the first day, and nobody misses the first day of school ever, so it's safe to assume that this is it. I am going to stick out like a sore thumb here.

There's a huge wooden double door, one of them open, leading to a small, empty hallway, and on the other end, another identical double door that leads to what looks like an inner patio of sorts, surrounded most likely by what are going to be the different classrooms. I don't have much time to do anything or look around when a blonde girl with twin ponytails rushes straight at me as soon as I enter the building. I'm about to say "later" to Martin's ghost before running away, but I promptly remember I'm on my own here, which means that this girl is in fact genuinely approaching me. Even less surprising than that, is that the rest of the kids follow her, quickly gathering around me. It's this blonde girl who does the talking.

"A new face! That doesn't happen all that often." Her smile looks as fake as her sophisticated accent. I already dislike her. But true enough, I'm a new face, so I play smart and smile back, because I don't even know what to reply: this whole mob of students is intimidating as hell. "I'm Amanda Riggs. Pleased to meet you."

"John Foster," I tell her, instead of running away, which is no longer an option since now I'm surrounded. Her smile turns into a smirk.

"Where do you hail from, then, John Foster?"

It takes me a little while, but I manage some small talk. "How do you know I'm new in town?"

I know, I asked the most stupid question in the history of ever. Leave me alone.

"Well, you might've noticed that this is a small town." She brushes her bangs out of her eyes, but just as soon they fall back into place. "Moreover, not many people suddenly choose to move in. They in fact tend to go away." I wonder why. "And since we are so few, we tend to know each other since childhood."

"Some of them you know all too well, right?" This comes from the crowd, and some people laugh, although Amanda doesn't look amused.

"Very funny, Stewart. Let's see how funny you get when Rude hears about it." It takes her a deep breath to keep her cool and rebuild her fake smile. Those who were laughing stop immediately at the mention of this Rude person. One hand goes to her now jutted-out hips as her brown eyes scan my face again. "So? Where are you from?"

"Celadon Bay," I say, cringing inside. Three months after the great move I'm still mourning that goddamned place and its people like the first day, but I push the thought far away, like I've been doing so far, before it takes over and ruins my already decaying mood.

"Bay? You come from the coast?" I nod at her, and her mouth hangs a little. "You're quite far away from home, aren't you?"

About fifteen hundred miles away, give or take, but I just nod again.

She's about to say something else when the sound of a hand-shaken bell—I kid you not—signals the end of our small meeting. The mob disperses and I take the chance to move along with them and away from Amanda. I take my left, ready to explore the school and try to find classroom four. The first I see are what looks like faculty rooms and offices, and at the far end I spot a door with a big, green number one. The next door has a number two. I must be close.

"Oh, there you are. You must be John Foster."

I turn around to the voice saying my name and I find a woman, probably well into her forties, smiling at me. For whatever reason, she wears an unbuttoned lab robe, and since she's a bit on the big side, her belly sticks out a little bit. I also notice she's holding a bell in her right hand.

I'm tired of chatting already so I just nod.

"It's my pleasure. I'm Ms. Higgins. I'm both a Chemistry teacher and Maple Heights High School's Principal." I blink a little bit, again unable to find words to reply. Now the lab coat makes more sense, I suppose. "You look like you need directions."

"I'm looking for classroom four."

"Well, it's right there." She turns on her heels and points to the other corner of the building, as far away from my position as it could possibly be, still not forty feet away. "On this side we have classrooms one, two and three, which are for middle school. On the other side we have classrooms four, five and six, for high school students."

"Only one classroom per grade?"

"We don't need much more, Mr. Foster. You might have noticed we don't have a lot of students."

"Fair enough." No wonder everyone here knows each other. They're stuck together for six freaking years, whether they like it or not.

"Now, you should get going. You don't want to be late for your first day, right?"

"Yes. I mean, no, I don't, Ms. Higgins."

"I guess I'll see you around, Mr. Foster."

I give the small patio a glance, looking for blind spots to hide, but at first glance, it doesn't seem like I'm all that lucky. Single-story buildings have no stairs to sneak under, like I used to do with Vee, back in Celadon Bay.

Vee. My sweet, beautiful Vee, no longer mine. I wonder what she's doing right now. Getting ready for class, reading some complicated book, I presume. Like pretty much every time I remember her, which is all the time, something inside me dies a little bit. It's been three months, but it feels as if I haven't seen her in a lifetime. I can see her icy eyes, almost white even, looking at me when I close my own. Sometimes I get the urge to get my phone (would you believe that shit still works?) and actually message her, but what would be the point? Especially after the way she ended things, it would be stupid of me to show out of nowhere three months later. Instead, I get an audio message of Martin, which I delete without listening to it. Like I needed another reminder that I am on my own here.

"So a high school junior, too?"

I snap out of my trance, realizing I made my way to classroom four somehow. Amanda is sitting at the table closest to the door with other two girls I assume are her groupies. She does kind of have the look of the girl who presides over her peers, the kind Martin would try to date and vice-versa. It takes me a little while to add up that she asked me something.

"What? Excuse me, I'm a little off today."

"I asked if you are also in tenth grade."

"Yeah."

"Great! Care to have a seat with us, then?" The offer was paired with an extended hand gesturing at an empty chair at her table. I don't know if I should or not, this being an only-girls table and all, but I'm not exactly swimming in options.

"Get your paws off of him, vixen." A tall guy yells, walking past me.

"Shut up, you dung." This comes from Amanda, now unable to keep her cool at all.

"It's too early in the morning for you to be offering yourself to the new kid." And then the tall kid turns to me. "Don't mind that whore, kid. You can thank me later."

But that's as much as Amanda can take from this guy, whoever he is. She slams her hands on the table as she springs to her feet, bolting in our direction and grabbing the guy by the collar, even though he towers over her.

"Say that to my face, you fucking bastard."

In turn, the guy looks amused with her reaction.

"Say what? Whore?"

But his smug smile is quickly replaced with pain when Amanda knees him hard on the nuts. He bends a little to grab his junk, until they're eye-leveled. Suddenly I don't feel like sitting at her table anymore. She adds a little info on what's going on.

"Just so you know, I dumped you because of that stupid attitude of yours."

I can't really afford to get in the middle of whatever is going on here, so I use my special ninja technique, finding my legs and walking out the classroom. I don't wander off, though. I just sit on my heels outside the room where the argument has engulfed the whole class by now. I'm the first and the only one to notice Ms. Higgins rushing to see what the problem is, and as soon as she sets foot inside, the whole room goes mum. It's like a miracle. The tall guy motions to leave, but Ms. Higgins stops him dead in his tracks.

"You're going nowhere, Stewart. What's happening here?" She doesn't even sound angry or anything, but somehow the miracle is still too strong and nobody dares say a word. It's like there's a pact to never rat out anything. Ms. Higgins sighs in exasperation. "All right, then. Just make sure you keep it quiet once I'm out. Mr. Sunderland will be here shortly."

The whole class breaks the silence to complain: apparently Mr. Sunderland, whoever that is, isn't a well loved and respected person. Their complaints die shortly, though, as soon as a huge man, built like a cupboard, inches his way to our room through the patio with a severe expression on his face. He stops right next to me, sparing me a glance. I look back at him from my crouching position.

"Mr. Foster, I assume?" His stern demeanor and deep, grave voice command immediate respect, so I give him a curt nod as I stand up. "I've seen your file from Camden Jordan High School. I'm not impressed, I'm afraid."

For a second I forgot that's what CJ High stands for. Camden Jordan High School was the school I attended back in Celadon Bay. Once again, as if it wanted to become the norm, I don't know what to reply. I agree with him, though. Whatever file he had seen, I'm nothing academically impressive. Vee was the smart one. This man doesn't give me time to relish in the mayhem that her name causes in my head.

"Your literature grades were barely enough to pass, which is of particular interest to me, since that's what I teach here."

"Oh." This escapes my mouth before I have time to stop it. This scary man here, who most likely is the hated Mr. Sunderland, is going to be my worst High School nightmare. Waking up at five in the morning sounds like a particularly enticing idea all of a sudden, and Mom will never hear the end of it for this.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Foster?"

"Not at all, sir." Which is actually a big fat lie. We all have problems, right? Such is life. But I don't feel like going all philosophical on him. He nods.

"Just so you know, I expect my students to be in the classroom when I get here. Whoever arrives late isn't allowed to take my classes. Are we clear on that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Enough, Mr. Sunderland." Ms. Higgins is out of the classroom and saving me. "Spare him for today, will you?"

"I was just stating some ground rules for the new student to follow."

"Don't mind him much, Mr. Foster," she says, trying unsuccessfully to light up the general mood. "He might look obstinate and unbending, but he's not that bad."

Mr. Sunderland doesn't even spare a blink. He just walks past us in silence, entering the room. I follow him silently, and I notice everyone is in their seats, as if nothing ever happened two minutes ago. "Mr. Smith, I believe your classroom is number six."

"Yes, sir." The tall guy says, leaving the room immediately.

Mr. Sunderland's voice thunders inside the room.

"You may sit over there, with Ms. Scarborough." I don't have to ask who that is. Mostly everyone in the room turns to look at a girl sitting in the far end of the room, all by herself although other tables have empty chairs here and there. I wonder how I didn't notice this girl earlier: She resembles Vee a lot with her fair skin, lightly colored eyes and cascading silky hair, which covers half her face. I can tell she's not amused, but orders are orders, so I pace the room trying not to step too heavily and disturb the otherwise reigning silence. I notice some people lowering their eyes as I pass by, some others shaking their heads.

When I start wondering what's going on, someone in the room says, "Tough luck, newbie."

This is followed by Mr. Sunderland's mighty thunder from the Olympus.

"Ackerman, out." Some guy picks his stuff and darts out of the room without argument. I sit where I was instructed, but as far away from the girl as I can. Lord Zeus The Literature Teacher scans the room, making sure everything is as silent as death. Once he makes sure he won't get interrupted, he starts talking. "Same faces as last year, except for the new student. That makes things easier. You all remember the rules. They are the same as last year, but just in case summer vacations fried your brains more than TV and internet already do, I'll repeat them. Be here on time. No cellphones in my class. No chewing gum allowed. Stay silent unless asked. Fail to follow these rules and you'll be following Mr. Ackerman instead. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir." I say, except I'm the only one who speaks at all. Some people turn around to look at me, almost expecting me to be following the other kid. I shrug lightly. After all, he asked, didn't he?

"Now, the schedule for our classes."

And it's official: Classes started.