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Willingly signing up for a cotton-candy-colored prison in the middle of a palm tree paradise might not be on top of everyone's bucket list. Neither was it on mine. Well— not quite. And yet somehow, I found myself standing at the massive entrance doors of said place. 

Harmony Heart Academy. How prestigious. I mean, as for visuals, ten out of ten. Sandy concrete, lined with those round silver lights, and palm trees wagging in the warm summer breeze. I think quite literally any person with a functioning brain would choose this over fucking Gotham City— I mean, downtown Miami. 

However, the number of people I had received sickenly polite smiles from in the past five minutes I'd stood there made me slightly anxious. Besides, standing here any longer would make me look like some main-character wannabe, waiting for a clumsy nerdy girl to accidentally crash into me. So because some smartass decided that first impressions are everything, I swallowed down the fanfare of pounding nerves in my throat and forced myself past the bubbling crowd, just to be thrown right into a new one. 

Oh... my god. My eyes widened so far that I had to blink several times to gain my muscle memory back. Oddly welcoming lights shone from high above me, reflecting off onto the pale-blue linoleum floor that covered the grounds as far as I could see. The lockers, pastel pink and blue just like the website had stated them to be, were everywhere. It almost made me dizzy. There were kids in uniform, looking like walking sticks of cotton candy, and kids without. They immediately fell into the background, it seemed. Weird. 

My eyes locked themselves on a girl who appeared to be walking towards me, her perfectly shaped afro bouncing up and down with every step she took. I fiddled with my face a bit before managing to recreate the smiles people kept throwing at me whenever they passed me, and awkwardly waited for her to get closer.

"Hi! You gotta be Robbie, right? I'm Amberly, call me Am," the girl said rather loudly, shaking my hand with a somewhat forced smile. Her dark skin contrasted against my own, pink sleeves matching the rest of her very pink uniform.

Shit. Now I had to answer. "Aha, yep. That's me, nice to uhm, to meet you.. Am." Great fucking job. I retracted my hand, an awkward smile stuck on my face. This was going wonderful already. 

Amberly motioned for me to follow her as she snaked her way through the hoard of people almost effortlessly. I swallowed, following after her with my heart in my throat. Where did all these people come from?

"So, what brought you here, hm? Doesn't happen often that someone transfers so far into their senior year," Amberly asked once we reached a somewhat less crowded hallway, her arms folded against her chest. I know she really meant to say something along the lines of, "what kind of fucking idiot transfers in the final quarter of their senior year?!" but she probably just wanted to be polite. Mood.

I forced out a painfully stiff chuckle, my eyes dashing around the hallway in search of something to focus on.Oh, come on, there's millions of people here and now I can't find anything to look at? "Aah, yeah... Y'know, I guess I just uh, I got lucky-?" I genuinely don't remember the last time I had a decent conversation with a stranger. Or anyone at all.

Amberly laughed, the sound warm and bright. "Well, you can consider yourself lucky, 'cause this is the moment you get to choose your new friends! I know basically everyone here, so I can hook you up with whoever. Though if I may give a suggestion, I'd say Ja—"

Amberly's ranting got cut off by a guy who came soaring through the corridor at a speed faster than that of goddamn light. The wheels of his skateboard emitted a sharp, agonizing screech against the edge of the few lockers he passed with ease, as his deep laughter filled up the entire fucking building. Not even a millisecond later, a fuming teacher came charging after him, yelling out various slurs of vicious threats the guy couldn't seem to care less about. And I kid you not, within the split second it took for him to pass me, his eyes locked right with mine, a slight sense of confusion on his features before he dashed away, as did the imaginary background music of American Idiot I had been playing in my brain the whole time. Well fuck me, not even ten minutes in this school and I was already thinking like a Wattpad character. But could you really blame me?

I turned back to Amberly, who seemed just as unfazed as everyone else. Guess this was a common thing. With the images of the blond-haired boy still playing through my mind, I opened my mouth before my brain could stop me. "What about him?" I motioned to where his catastrophic skateboard fiasco had thrown over a trashcan, to which a mildly pissed-off janitor was already making their way. 

"Absolutely not." Amberly didn't even wait for my protests as she made her way to a small group of boys leaning against the lockers like they do in the movies. Well isn't that just great. "Jackson!" she exclaimed, yanking me by my arm to pull me towards a guy I assumed was named Jackson. "This is Robbie, new kid, yada yada. Take him in yeah?"

And well, there I stood, face to face with the literal embodiment of a rich popular jerk. I was pretty much waiting for Runaway Baby from Bruno Mars to start playing, but yet again, I had to use my imagination. Jackson smirked, running a concerningly pale hand through his dark brown hair. "Robbie, huh? Welcome to hell, darling."

Kill me now.  "Yeah, uhm, thanks.. Don't we like, have class?" I swear, we'd been standing there for so long, I momentarily forgot class existed. Or maybe I just needed an excuse to get away from Jackson. Either way, my comment seemed amusing to Jackson and his friends, especially some short dude in the back. He snorted before getting shoved in the ribs by Amberly. 

"Don't worry, who needs education when you're rich, right?" Amberly laughed, and suddenly it didn't sound so warm and bright anymore. Jackson just nodded along, glancing at me as he ran his tongue across his teeth. What was I, his prey? 

Upon seeing my hopefully subtle discomfort, Jackson pulled a weirdly unfitting sympathetic face and walked over to throw his arm over my shoulder. I had to grit my teeth together to the point I could literally see the disappointed face of my dentist in order not to flinch and wriggle myself away from the cologne-drenched wannabe British villain. He shook his head, pulling me forward in complete silence. My discomfort began to grow. When the rest of his friends seemed almost as confused as I felt, he stopped and turned to them with an exasperated laugh. "C'mon, Robbie's right. We should get to class, it's not always about money," he scoffed, a laugh-worthy misshaped British accent seeping through his words. I mean, at least he wasn't as airheaded as I thought he was. 

Thus, Amberly and the rest of her and Jackson's NPC friends followed us on a quest to Classroommania, undeterred by any potential distractions or side quests! Except for flirting with by-passing teachers, apparently. 

—

If having a stranger introduce you to a whole other group of strangers was humbling, you'd not want to imagine a teacher introducing you to an entire classroom. I'd never thought I'd see this many creepily smiling faces at once, and I hoped to god I never had to see it again. 

My hands carried a pastel pink tray filled with the fanciest lunch I had ever seen. A perfectly sliced sandwich, white bread with no cust, fresh apple slices, a cup of lactose-free yogurt, and an individually packaged cranberry-oats cookie. I wasn't even lactose intolerant! Well, I had to admit I wasn't exactly looking forward to eating this five days a week. But hey, might as well enjoy it while the joy lasts.

Sadly, however, Jackson felt the need to interrupt me mid-analyzation of a random black spot on one of my apple slices. Rude. He bumped his shoulder against mine, shaking an invisible lock of hair out of his face. "So, Robin.. What brings you here, hm? What do your parents do?"

I pressed my lips together, exhaling through my nose, before snapping my head toward Jackson. "Robbie. It's Robbie." Better make it clear now, wouldn't want to make things awkward later on. 

Jackson shook his head lightly, his mouth pressed into a thin smile as he sat down at one of the ridiculously long tables. "My bad, darling."

I am not exaggerating when I say I almost choked on my yogurt. Before I could quietly clear my throat, Jackson nudged me in my arm, leaning his face uncomfortably close to me. "I have a feeling you'll be a perfect fit for this place, Robbie," he whispered, the overwhelming blanket of cologne smacking the air out of my lungs. Look, when I said, kill me now, I genuinely meant it. Still do.

With my eyes locked on the half-eaten food below me, I managed to croak out, "I gotta pee." And I dashed out of there before anyone could offer to show me the way. Not that they would, though, after my horrendous choice of words. I gotta pee?! Really?! 

Hence, I found myself wandering around the now somewhat emptied corridors, muffled chatting and laughter slowly fading from the crowded cafeteria behind me. The realization this would be my life from now on began to dawn upon me, and it came accompanied by a lovely dose of crippling anxiety. Fun times. If I thought about it, there hadn't been a single time today where I wasn't masking. 

And although the pastel colors surrounding me were absolutely mesmerizing, they were also absolute headache material. But in all honesty, the people I had been forced to hang out with were probably the bigger reason for the slight pressure drilling into my skull as I skipped down an empty staircase, jumping off the final three steps with a yelp of triumph when I didn't fall. Score!

It took my brain a few seconds to process my surroundings, the bright pastel colors long gone. I glanced around the small hallway, chipped white paint peeling from the walls. It wasn't exactly the type of setting you'd expect at this type of place, to say the least. Flashbacks of Miami filled my head; the luminescent corridors of my old school still appeared in my nightmares from time to time. But anyway, back to this abandoned hallway. Safe for a big steel door right in front of me, the space was empty. It was more of a dead-end staircase than a hallway, to be fair. 

And of course, my overly curious brain decided it would most definitely be the safest option to see what's behind that door. They should cast me for a horror movie, honestly. 

With a creak, the door pushed open and the sound of laughter filled the air. Real, genuine laughter. It was refreshing to hear. However, this also meant I was about to stand face to face with a bunch of people who were, for reasons I had yet to figure out, hiding away in an abandoned room. But then again, anything was better than sitting next to those fancy pants Mc'Rich kids. 

"Shit, is that Harold-? He'd kill us if we get caught again!" some guy hissed, whispering not so quietly, to which I assume someone hit him, 'cause he followed with a loud shriek. Poor guy.

"Then maybe, you should shut the fuck up," someone else seethed back, which is when my brain came up with a wonderful realization. I had just walked in on two people doing god knows what, and they were convinced my name was Harold, who -poor man- had walked in on them before. The universe just had to spit in my face again. 

"Shhht! If both of you would stop biting each other's head off all the time, you'd already know that those were not Harold's footsteps," a third person said, tutting to herself— themself? I wasn't sure. 

Oh my god... A threesome?! I mean, I wasn't gonna judge, but, a threesome?! In school?! Before I could run far away and never recover from this horrifying experience, the fucking door opened. My dumbfounded eyes were met with a freckled face and light red hair pulled into a half-up ponytail, loose strands dangling around warm hazel eyes. This school was filled with so many pretty people, it really wasn't fair. 

"See? Not Harold. Welcome to the hidden dungeon, stranger. You new?"

I chuckled awkwardly, glancing around what I now realized was an abandoned theater room. Makes sense. As my eyes were busy taking in the sights around me, they accidentally locked with another person, chilling on a chair. A black wolfcut hid their face, bleached undercut showing from underneath their ponytail. Cool. They gave me a nod of acknowledgment. "You could like, I dunno, tell us your name or something. Might help make this less incredibly awkward."

Right. Shit. "Oh, right!" I exclaimed in a state of mere panic, my hands already searching for something to fidget with. "I uh— I'm Robbie... Today's my first day. I was just looking for the restrooms and— well actually, I was in the middle of running away from Jackson and his friends— you know Jackson? I know Jackson. I kinda have a feeling many people here know Jackson. Kinda funny, now I think of— wait no, restrooms. Right so, I was looking for the restrooms and ended up here." Did I need to share all that information? No. Did I regret it? Yes, yes I did. Was that enough for it to never happen again? No, most definitely not. 

"Welcome, then! I take from your explanation that you're not exactly fond of Jackson? That's good," the red-haired girl laughed, before sticking her hand out with a warm smile. "I'm Reagan, feel free to give me nicknames though! I love nicknames. And frogs, I love those too. But you could probably already tell," Reagan said with a chuckle, motioning to all her frog-themed accessories, shaking her frog earrings for emphasis. 

I couldn't help but laugh too and it was almost like some sort of infectious disease; I had to shut my damn mouth before I'd look like a fucking psychopath, laughing in a continuous pattern whilst sternly shaking Reagan's hand. Awesome first impression, man, awesome.

As I finally let go of Reagan's hand, the universe once again pulled a hilarious trick on me when a random voice suddenly yelled "MOTHERFUCKER!" out of goddamn nowhere, and I right about jumped into the ceiling if it weren't for gravity to save my ass.

Reagan rolled her eyes with a laugh, whereas the wolfcut person didn't even flinch. You know, it might not be too late to leave.. Just as I was about to open my mouth to question the reality of ghosts and schizophrenia, another guy emerged from the shadows, grumbling to himself as he reached for his backpack to pull out a notebook.

Wolfcut-person (I really wanted to stop calling them that) gave the guy a side glance. "Mace. Look up."

Finally, the guy glanced up from his notebook— which, by the way, looked like it had been through WW2 at least twice— and locked eyes with me, which caused him to mumble out a wide-eyed "Oh."

He then proceeded to register my presence for a few seconds before a big grin took over his face, almond eyes crinkling until they were almost closed. "Hey! New face! Sorry bout the screaming, but honestly, if you're gonna be here a lot, which I have a feeling you will, might as well get used to it. Also, don't mind Nyx over here!" the guy reached over to poke wolfcut person —who I could now finally call Nyx, a fucking cool name— in the cheek, gaining him a shove in his face. "Just a little grumpy cat," he cooed, biting his lip in order not to burst out laughing. "Oh, and I'm Mason!!"

"Better known as my idiotically smartass twin brother," Nyx added, sticking out their tongue at Mason when he pulled a sour face at their comment.

Wow. I think I just found my kinda people. In an abandoned theater. Hidden away from the rest of society. Awesome! "Robbie," I chuckled. Glancing at Reagan, who seemed completely occupied with her sketchbook, I noticed a crocheted top hanging from her shoulders. Its light green color matched perfectly with the brown tank top she wore underneath it, layered with a bazillion necklaces. It made my artist brain happy. In a burst of curiosity, I skipped over to the table Reagan was seated at, and discretely -or so I hoped- peeked over her shoulder. My eyes widened. "Are those crochet patterns?" I asked, fellow-artist-excitement coursing through my already hyperactive brain. 

Reagan glanced up at me with a smile as she nodded. "Mhm! Well, they're more like designs, the actual patterns I still have to figure out! Do you crochet?"

"I wish. My attention span could never," I admitted with a laugh, "but I paint!" 

Motioning to my paint-splattered jeans, Reagan grinned. "I could tell." 

Fuck, she even knew The Rule. Always find something to subtly show off your inner artist. But okay, maybe I hadn't been super subtle with my attempt. 

"Yo Robbie!" Mason called out from further down the room, "are you like a Subway Surfers expert, by any chance?" 

I turned around to find Mason looking at me with a hopeful smile. "I had like, a massive Subway Surfers phase back in 8th grade. I mean, it would even get so bad I'd skip class for it. But like, I skipped class anyway 'cause that school sucked ass." Please stop talking. "Like there was even this one teacher who always wore the most mismatching clothes, it drove me crazy. But I couldn't say anything 'cause—" Oh my fucking god. "Uhm, yeah, I know how to play."

Mason stared at me for a few seconds, rolling his eyes when Nyx snorted out loud. He then let out an amused chuckle, motioning for me to follow him. "Cool, because I'm about to lose my shit, I swear." He led me to a little workstation, several computer screens connected through millions of cables and cords, endless notes and papers stuck to the wall. Mason fell down on a worn-out beanbag with a thud, folding his legs into a cross-legged position. "So, I got bored of the OG game and then I was like, 'I know how to hack shit!' and then I hacked the game to make it thrice its original speed. But then I realized I don't actually have thrice the skills to play, so I've been stuck for a while. Wanna try?"

Don't trust Mason with my browsing history, got it. "Ha, sick. I'll give it a try." My excitement only grew bigger when Mason handed me a controller, a big flashy grin on his face. 

Jesus Christ this was gonna kill my hands. And my eyes. And my posture. The little avatar dude flew across the railroad, racing and jumping so fast even Sonic would be impressed. And mildly mortified. With my brain locked in this magical trance of hyper-focus, I found my thoughts whirling back to earlier this morning. Who was I kidding. My thoughts, couldn't stop showing me various angles of the blonde-haired guy's face as he flew through the corridor. And of course, the rational thing to do would be to ignore my brain until he'd shut up, but knowing me, that wouldn't happen anytime soon. Even worse, my mouth decided to intervene with the case. 

"So, uhm, Mason, right? Mason, yes. Do you uhm, do you know who that blond guy is? The one who ska—

"Seth," all three of them called out in unison, chuckling when they realized. 

You have got to be kidding me. I shot my brain a quick request to make me look as confused as I felt, because it seemed no one was planning to give me a further explanation. Thankfully, I've had a pretty clear history of never being subtle, so it didn't take long for an endearing smile to take over Reagan's face. 

"Seth, self-proclaimed troublemaker and social outcast. If you want to climb up Harmony's social ladder, publically shading Seth is the easiest way to go," Reagan explained, gaining a hum from Nyx. 

They blew a strand of hair out of their face. "Yup. No one knows shit 'bout the guy, but that's just the way this place works."

Of course it is. I glanced at Mason. 

He blinked at me before his eyes zoomed back to focus. "Hm? What were we talking about?"

Relatable.

"Seth," Nyx said, returning their attention to their phone. 

"Oh, right!" Mason began, straightening his back in excitement. "I think he's pretty cool, but I don't know. I think everyone's cool."

"Mood," I chuckled, throwing the controller at Mason when I lost for the third time in a row. Fucking triple speed. 

"Class starts in five minutes, be warned!" Reagan suddenly exclaimed, waving her phone in the air with more energy than what I considered healthy for the occasion. Upon seeing my, once again, confused expression, she smiled. People here smile a lot. "We usually don't hear the bell, all the way down here. So I've set reminders in my phone to make sure we all get to class on time!"

"Calc, anyone?" Mason asked with a groan, dragging himself towards the door. 

Lucky for him (and maybe for me too), my brain decided to play nice and allow me to remember my schedule for the day. "Me! Though there's a small chance I'm gonna get like, ambushed by Jackson and his friends."

"Oh, Robbie dear, don't you worry about that. Once they see my face, you'll never have to speak to them again. I just have that charm," Mason mocked, placing a theatrical hand on his chest. 

After Nyx told him how they clearly were the one who inherited all the humor, Mason slung his arm around my shoulder to try and guide me up the stairs. Safe to say we both tripped and fell after five steps, but at least the thought was nice!

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First chapter HYPEEE🤟🏻🤟🏻

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