Trigger warning!
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Charlie's P.O.V

"... new school, new life..."

Sydney's words replay in my head as the secretary beckons me in, again.

And for the second time, I don't bat an eyelash. She cusses about how obnoxious I am, the principal's door slamming shut behind her.

It opens again to reveal Principal Hills herself. She looks quite intimidating, with her boyishly cut blonde hair and suit. I wonder if she's going to chastise me.

"If Mohammed doesn't go to the mountain, the mountain will come to Mohammed," she smiles.

I blink.
I'm not Mohammed, and you are not a mountain.

The silence that settles gets unbearable for her; she sighs and gives me the details concerning my admission. There are fifty prospective students but vacancies for only seven, so I have to write entrance exams. I am told to stick around the school for the exam timetable.

"While you wait, you can walk around but not too far," she adds as an afterthought. I smile at how much faith she has in me not getting lost.

Classes are in session for seniors and juniors, while the other classes are empty. I'll be a sophomore. My soon-to-be classmates are in the cafeteria.

I plug my earphones in for the audio of Quantum physics for dummies to drown out my surroundings. Navigating this unfamiliar terrain, dressed in my neatly pressed white t-shirt and polished oxfords, I feel like a fish out of water. My effort to look like everyone else was disrupted by Sydney's insistence that the weather was too warm for a long-handed shirt, so I will be odd if I try to dissolve into the crowds of students effortlessly roaming the campus with their self-aware gaits.

Hesitant steps carry me, my gaze darting nervously from one class to another.

Each passing moment only intensifies my longing for the scent of polished wood and aged books, the hushed whispers echoing through towered corridors, and the unanimous camaraderie shared during chapel prayers. As I pass by certain places where students are gathered - the closed-off pool area, the spacious cafeteria, and even the classes I glance at through the door windows - a wave of apprehension grips me. I feel like an intruder, an unwelcome presence interrupting their seemingly effortless social dynamics. Laughter and animated conversations fill the air, creating a vibrant tapestry I doubt I can fit into.

In the hushed corners of my mind, memories play like a montage - a spirited game of rugby, the whispered confessions in the dormitory, the whispered Latin phrases uttered during Mass. Sil. Sil, in every expanse of our universe, in every phone call the nuns allow. Sil, telling me to quiet the other desperate boys queued behind me and me, replying that it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.

So long as I can hear your voice, Sil, it doesn't matter.

The only apparent merits so far are that their field is smaller - hence, a less chance of doing knee-crippling laps -, no extremely buff lads to hurl me into a trash container overnight, and Harry is here. He thrived in St. John's, so I'm expecting to find his face on a poster or two with something along the lines of "superstar extraordinaire " printed underneath.

I bend a corner. The soothing motion law-quoting is cut short when a girl with lavender box braids almost runs into me.

"Hey, I need your phone right now!" She yelps. I double back but hand it to her anyway. Sydney would have told me not to because, for one, it's hers, and the other reasons are, well ... due to my predicament. However, there seems to be an emergency.

Her eyes hover over the screen, so wide they nearly make me overlook her fingers.

I double back again.

There's blood on her hands.

*

Mia's P.O.V

Immediately in school, my eyes scan the crowd of students in the hallway for Casey. There's no sight of her, though. The alarm for starting lessons rings before I give up. Unfortunately, seniors eat with the juniors; I can't find her at recess either.

"Noah, do you know what classes the seniors doing physics might be in?"I ask,
a wrapped cheese sandwich in hand, having walked over to Noah's table.

"I don't know." He waves his ketchup-stained fingers to yell at a guy dishing mashed potatoes across the cafeteria, catching me off guard, "Matt, where your sis 'at right now?!!"

"Gym!"

"Gym." He turns to me. "Thanks," I squeak.

"Hey, no problemo. Sit with us," Noah motions to his friends, who look at me like this is a monumental moment. It is the first time he has asked this since it's also our first communication outside class. I would like to, but I am not good at joining established friend groups anyway...

"Thanks for the offer, but I have to do something. See you at Music."

I plan to wait for Casey in the bleachers, where she will likely see me. No food is allowed there, so I head to my locker to stash them, but it is locked. In my jacket, out comes my pocket knife but no keys. Making do with it, I twist the keyhole till it opens. Thank goodness at least yesternight taught me always to have a pocket knife for safety.

"Hey there slut," an acrid tone erupts. I huff, so not in the mood for this.

"Looks like you are not happy to see me," she smirks, "could it be your guilty conscience? I thought I made it clear that you should stay away - where are you going?" She shoves me back into the locker just as I try to leave.

My side stings as expected these days. I can stand it, but I can't stand getting beaten again. My eyes roam for any sign of her sidekicks. When the coast seems clear, I face her. "Don't touch me again."

"Or else what?" Her smirk widens, "you're gonna hit me, cut me with that." She reaches for the knife. Without a thought, my arm dodges her, but her left hand swoops in to twist the knife out of my grip, escalating the wrestle until -

"Fuck."

Her hands drop immediately, lips quiver. I look down, confused. The handle pokes out of a white sea.

The sea is crumpled. So much for all my effort in ironing my uniform.
The sea is reddening so slow my eyes seem to be deceiving me. I look up and meet her gape before she barfs.

"Oh fuck-" She takes to her heels. I want to tell her the bathroom is on her left when she makes a right turn, but I am still registering the metal in me.

It can't be bad; it's just a pocket knife.

I assure myself, unbuttoning my shirt from the bottom meticulously. But when I look down and find the puncture at no other part of my body but my swollen side, veins visibly wanting to be plucked.

What if I die? Oh my, Mia, don't freak out, it is nothing, you yourself said it. But what if...oh crap, I am too young to die. Dad would be so embarrassed to see me wherever he is, not long after him. But what did he expect? That I would be his little champion and chase my dreams, find love, and forget about him in due time? Pfft...How bold of him to assume that and of me to believe that I would end up with him? Dad was a good person, and I am the jerk who couldn't tell him what I did yet feel angry and sad and every possible thing to feel when you think you know someone. Still, you don't, and I am bad for getting the money lost Perhaps I'm a terrible friend too, because Casey is my friend too, I think, but now she must be angry at me, and I don't know what I want to say when I see her and I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I can't dive, and I'm sorry I don't know you dad and- Oh shit, the bell will ring soon. My demise will be a public spectacle, a daint in Spencer Hugh's reputation. Even in death, I mess things up for people. Where is Autumn?!! Did she just stab me and run away?!

As if she read my mind, she appears with a phone in hand and a casually dressed boy. They run to me, their squeaky sneakers - the only sound I hear before the bell rings.

My eyes have to shut.