Stardust: Life Cycle of a Star

 Jake Gallagher

        My former hypothesis of the first day of school being "the most dreadful day of the entire year, other than Thanksgiving," actually proved me wrong for the first time in... Well, in the entirety of my sixteen years of existence.

Yeah, the morning was rough, with the unwavering embarrassment of my family, but the first two hours of school had been pretty great. Maybe it was because I found out that today was only a half day, and I was free at twelve-thirty. Or maybe it was because of a newfound recognition that had seeped from Brennyn to me. She had been toting me around, showing me off to everyone she knew, which was basically the entire school. I wasn't complaining; everyone seemed nice enough. But I felt like I'd been stripped naked in a crowd when Brennyn repeatedly shoved me into the limelight.

Or maybe this day had gone so well because all of my teachers were really cool so far.

I had Mrs. Amos for first period Geometry. At first, I was reluctant of her because she seemed so old and kind of intimidating, but she quickly disproved that. For the entire half hour, all she did was smile, hand out the text books and tools necessary for the class, and gave us a run-down of what we'd be doing for the year. Plus, she said she wouldn't be giving out homework for the first two weeks of school.

Then, there was Mr. Jacomo for Art class. He was friendly, getting to know us all by going around the room one-by-one and asking for our names, and what our favorite period of art was. And not to mention that he was very good looking for an older man. The salt and pepper look really worked against his brown skin.

Next was AP History with Mr. Carr. He looked young enough to be a student. He couldn't have been a day over twenty-five. He had really red hair, blue eyes, and was nice enough to personally introduce himself to every student with a hand shake. I had this class with the twins. Shannyn gave me a good laugh when she turned beat red every time Mr. Carr glanced in her direction.

Lastly, there was Ms. Spinelli, the literature teacher. It was her first year as a high school teacher. She was nervous, but that melted away when a few students, including boisterous Brennyn, made corny jokes to get her to open up.

"What'd ya' get?" asked Brennyn.

She took monstrous steps trying to keep up with me, almost too much for her short legs to handle. Her wedges squeaked with each stride across the freshly polished tile of the lunchroom.

Students of all four grades bustled around the wide room littered with windows from floor to ceiling bathed in the sunlight of late morning. Nearly every table was packed to capacity, with some upperclassmen even sitting on the tables just so they didn't have to stray from their friends. Some of the tables had been pushed together to make room for bigger groups of seniors, which left many freshmen to awkwardly stand without a place to sit.

Brennyn suddenly launched up to the tips of her toes. She leaned over me to get a good look at my lunch tray, and almost fell over.

"Ew, you gotta cold slice," she grunted, returning to her soles.

"Cold pizza is good," I said, frowning.

"Whatever floats your little rainbow boat," she snarked.

If it weren't for the fact that I had self-control, I would have dumped my pizza on her head. She had been making gay remarks all day. I knew she was joking, and she did mean well, but I had never actually been teased about it before. Hearing her talk about my sexuality so openly was uncomfortable. I knew I was the one that told her without hesitance, but she was not being very gracious about it. It wasn't like I hadn't fully "come out" yet, because I had and I just didn't make a big deal about it, but those people that I came out to were very subtle in mentioning it. Maybe because 'those people' were my close friends and family, so they were obligated not to hurt my feelings. Brennyn, on the other hand, didn't seem to have a filter for her mouth. If I was going to be her "pocket gay" for the year, I was going to have to adjust to that...

"Get outta here, sleazeball," Brennyn snapped at a boy lingering in her path.

The muscular brunette looked like his eyes were pointed directly at her chest, though, she shouldn't complain; he was cute.

"Don't make me repeat myself," she added.

With a scoff, he skittered away to a table cluttered with swooning females who eagerly accepted him to stare at their chests. Not literally, but I was sure they wouldn't mind if he did.

Brennyn and I strayed out of the noisy lunchroom, and into a sparsely populated hall lined with bright red lockers, and banners with welcomings like, "Welcome back," and, "Hooray for the New Student Body of 2007!"

The latter just seemed really patronizing. Seriously, who came up with "hooray?" Plus, the beginning of a new school year was never exciting for anyone. Students had to adjust to the summer being over, waking up at six o'clock in the morning, adapting to schedules, and making new friends if theirs moved over the summer. The last only applied to myself, probably. And, there's no way in hell the teachers were enjoying this. Their summer ended weeks earlier than the students'. Many of the students were - for a lack of a better term - assholes, and were striving to be the next best class clown, which put copious amounts of stress on the teachers to control their students. I didn't know why any students even tried anymore: no could ever out-do Jeffery Jefferies, graduating class of '93, who pulled out all the stops and abused every prank known to mankind for his senior year. He even invented a new prank at our school which had never been duplicated to success: filling all the science labs with frogs. I honestly didn't know where he could've gotten over a hundred frogs. I was surprised no one called PETA.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Outside. I'm not eating in here with these," she paused to glance at passing juniors, "dickheads."

One of the males squinted his eyes, but said nothing to the tiny spitfire, to which she teemed with arrogance.

I trotted closely behind her switching hips. I'm not too sure if all females walked like that, but it kind of made her look like a waddling duck. I guess straight guys liked it, as told by the many passing incubators of testosterone and hormones that drooled over Brennyn like dogs in heat. Then, there was the occasional glare from one of them, maybe thinking that she and I were dating. Despite myself, I couldn't help but blush because some of the guys giving me third degree burns with the intensity of their stares were actually cute, even if they did look like they wanted to kill me.

The heat of the near-noon sun flushed across my skin as Brennyn threw open the heavy double doors leading to the football field behind the school. I hadn't realized how many students there were at Pyxis until I thought back to the hundreds that swarmed the lunchroom, and nearly a hundred more hanging out around the field.

The shamrock springs beneath our feet squished with dew, leaving Brennyn muttering something about her brand new shoes being grass-stained.

"Goddammit," she cursed upon a freshman boy nearly slamming into her. "I can't escape them."

"Escape who?" chuckled an identical voice.

The platinum strands of Shannyn bounced across her face with every step she took toward us. She munched from the tray of french fries she held between her pearly fingernails.

"Them as in freshmen," scoffed the masculine tone of a male striding beside the approaching twin. "Bree is no longer one of them, so she thinks she's too good to be seen anywhere near one."

He snickered, revealing a mouth full of shiny silver braces. His blonde hair was set in a short fohawk, and his blue eyes squinted with amusement. His freckle-peppered cheeks stretched from the pressure of his smile.

I easily recognized him as Matt Tremaine, my chemistry partner from last school year.

"Shut your trap, brace face," Brennyn huffed, swatting his arm and nearly causing him to lose the burger on his lunch tray.

Ignoring the fuming female beside him, Matt's grin grew to epic proportions. "Jake," he exclaimed, "it's great to see you again!"

Swallowing the newly formed lump in my tonsils, I choked, "I didn't think you'd remember me."

Quite honestly, I didn't. We were never exactly friends, we just shared a table and a few projects for chemistry class. We talked a couple of times, but nothing really memorable, though, there was that one day when I kept making corny chemistry jokes, and he laughed so hard that he knocked over a rack of test tubes.

"How could I forget," he chuckled. "You helped me get an A in chem last year, and science-related things aren't normally my strong point. I owe you for that, ya' know."

I smiled and nodded.

"And, I could never forget the day you made me destroy a rack of test tubes," he added with a joshing grin.

Squeezing her tiny stature through a throng of students, and flailing out her arms to make way for the rest of us, Brennyn lead us to the glaringly red bleachers on the side of the field. She earned odd looks and cross glances from the students she plowed through, but she returned every single on of them with a patronizing sneer.

The lot of us found a cluster of empty seats on the two highest tiers of the bleachers. She pulled me next to her, and Matt and Shannyn sat one row below us.

Brennyn propped her feet against her sister's back, and Shannyn howled in protest, "Get your dirty feet off me! I don't want grass stains on my new shirt!"

Brennyn complied with a scoff.

"Where'd you find Jake?" Matt mumbled, mouth filled to the brim with bits of hamburger and lettuce. It was hard not to laugh at the chunk of tomato dangling from his lip.

"He dragged me behind the school, doped me up with chloroform, and tried to rape me this morning," shrugged Brennyn in utter nonchalance.

I'm sure my eyes widened to the size of basketballs, but Shannyn quickly interjected. "Jake is no rapist. If anything, you assaulted him by not watching where you were walking, Brennyn."

Waving her sister's bitey comment aside, Brennyn smiled. "Jake is my new pocket gay. You're no fun anymore, Matt."

"Gee, thanks," he snapped, lapping up the tomato.

"Jake's much cuter, so short, and travel-sized."

Technically, I'm not short. I'm five-foot-seven, which is a lot taller than both Tetro twins. But, for being a sixteen year old male, I probably should be taller. Matt is quite taller than I am, as are ninety percent of the guys at Pyxis. According to my calculations, I should be at least five-foot-nine by now...

"Look, look, look," Brennyn chanted, frantically slapping Matt's shoulder.

"Stop it, you psycho," he winced, leaning away from her swatting fists.

She pointed a clawed finger across the field where a group of senior boys were sprawled out on the bleachers.

One in particular seemed to catch her attention. Even though he was sitting, it wasn't hard to tell that he was extremely tall and well-built. He looked Hispanic with the charcoal hair, and the naturally bronze complexion. I think his name was Castro, though, that could be his last name. All I really knew was that he was on the basketball team last year, and the only reason why I knew that was because my friend Ian was on the same team.

"Holy hell, being that sexy should be illegal," Brennyn swooned, propping her head on her fists to stare.

"Latin men are always so attractive," Matt grinned.

"Back off, he's mine," Brennyn said. "And he's Mexican. We'll have cute Mexican-English-French babies."

"Aren't Mexican and Latin the same thing?" Matt inquired. His blonde head tilted to the side, and his braced teeth gnawed on his bottom lip. That must be his deep-in-thought face.

"I don't think so. Aren't Latin people from Latin America? Mexicans are from Mexico, right?"

"Wait a second, is Latin America South or Central America?" he questioned, rubbing his temples. "Ugh, there's too many Americas. I'm confused."

Brennyn rolled her eyes. "You should know this stuff, Matt. You took a geography class last year, didn't you?"

"No. I took geology. And you should know this stuff because you're in, like, three advanced placement classes. You're supposed to be smart," he hissed.

Shannyn bitterly laughed. "She's only in AP classes because she's always copying my homework, or cheating from the Internet. She's actually pretty stupid."

"Shut the hell up, Shannyn," Brennyn barked, swatting the back of her sister's head.

Shannyn wasted no time in flipping Brennyn's lunch tray over. The hot slice of pizza flopped onto the bleachers, its cheese and pepperoni oozing through the cracks.

"You're lucky I wasn't gonna eat that," Brennyn frowned.

"Hey, has anyone seen the homewrecker?" Matt grumbled. His blues shifted around the football field, scanning every tight group of students.

I didn't know who this "homewrecker" was, nor why Matt would call someone that, but my interest had been piqued.

"You should know where he is," said Brennyn. "You're the one that ran off with him this morning."

"Yeah, and he completely ditched me after we got our schedules. We were supposed to have our first class together, but he skipped," Matt muttered in quite the tone of disdain.

"He can't skip class," Brennyn shrieked. "He's on probation! He told me that if he misses any school this year, he's gonna be sent to juvie!"

"In that case, he better be lucky that attendance doesn't count on the first day of school," shrugged Shannyn, wolfing down her platter of french fries.

"Who is-" I started to ask, insanely curious about who this juvenile delinquent could be, but my inquiry was cut short at the sound of Brennyn's shouting.

"THERE HE IS!"

At first, I didn't even see who she was talking about... until her claws nearly slapped me in the face from the vigor behind her pointing - or, should I say angered jabbing. I was sure if the air were a physical form, she would have shattered it to pieces from the fury of her finger.

Sheltered from the sweltering sun beneath a large oak on the east side of the football field, a slender figure was posted against the bark. Brunette hair billowed from his scalp and was fittingly messy. The muscles of his biceps bulged from his arms being folded across his chest, and many small tattoos littered the skin of both of his arms. As well, there were many bruises coloring his fair skin in tints of black and blue, and they all seemed to be hovering over the veins near his inner elbows. He wore a tattered pair of fitted jeans that were ripped in the knees - I guess that was the style - and a black, sleeveless t-shirt with, I think, the Nirvana smiley face in yellow all over it. I didn't listen to that sort of music, so I wasn't sure if I was politcally correct. But, all in all, he looked rugged.

"Why the hell is he talkin' to her?!" Brennyn seethed.

A few students glanced at the disgruntled teen, but Brennyn was too red-in-the-face to care. Even if she wasn't angry, Brennyn loved attention and wouldn't mind anyhow.

I hadn't noticed before, but a girl was accompanying the object of Brennyn's anger.

I easily recognized her as Andrea Álvarez. I remembered her being a cheerleader last year, and having a Mexican accent. She was a junior now, but was usually seen hanging out with Aileah, which was why Brennyn seemed so angry that she was in such close quarters with-

"SKYLAR!" Brennyn shouted, waving a hand at him.

Even though I didn't play for that team (if ya' know what I mean), I'd be lying if I said that I never noticed how... voluptuous Andrea was. Guys always catcalled and wolf whistled at her as she walked by because of how tight and short her jean skirts were, which accentuated her... asset, and the low-cut shirts she wore that showed off her... breasts. I felt gross even thinking those words.

This "Skylar" person seemed to ignore Brennyn's aggressive shouting altogether as Andrea flipped her black locks over her shoulder, ran a finger down his chest, and pressed herself against him in an overtly sexual manner. If they weren't wearing clothes, that could have been considered a sex position. It made me uncomfortable just looking at them.

"SKYLAR!" Brennyn roared, stomping her foot so hard against the bleachers that Matt nearly toppled over.

Oh, God, that was so embarassing. I was surprised I hadn't crawled into the fetal position... yet.

"Quit that," Matt snapped, now hanging onto his seat for dear life.

Shannyn groaned and hung her head, growing tired of her twin's antics.

Seeing his face for the first time, an expression of the utmost scorn was etched across Skylar's chiseled features and pointed directly at our group on the bleachers. His caramel irises were clouded in contempt.

After whispering something into Andrea's ear that coerced a satisfied shutter through her bones, he began his rampage toward us. His muscular legs held a stride of purpose, and I knew from his gait alone that he was not to be messed with. Even from afar, he was awfully intimidating.

The closer he got, the more recognizable he became, until he was upon us and the realization of who he was flashed through my mind's eye: Skylar Glass.

There were a few Skylars, as well as Skylers, at Pyxis, but none mattered compared to this one. Skylar Glass was notorious around school. He had been the topic of countless rumors of the promiscuous variety, and the brawler of many schoolyard fights where his opponent usually walked away with a broken bone or two. In fact, the only things I knew about Skylar were the many unflattering rumors, such as him sleeping around and supposedly dealing drugs. I tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. I very rarely believe a rumor, so I didn't put any stock into Skylar being a drug dealer... until the entire student body saw him get dragged out of the school in handcuffs for being in possession of marijuana and pain killers on school grounds last year.

The cigarette once concealed between his bruised fingers was drawn to his lips as he looked up at us from the bottom of the bleachers.

"What?!" he snapped in between inhaling the hazardous fumes.

His voice was deep, intense, and chilling, and I was sure I would've yelped from sheer terror if my lips weren't held so tightly that they were numb.

I normally tried to keep at least fifty feet between myself and guys like Skylar, but I could already see that I have joined the wrong crowd. Thanks a lot, Brennyn, I'm going to need a restraining order for you...

"You weren't wearing that shirt this morning," Brennyn noted, her brows drawing to a furrow.

He apathetically shrugged, and carried on with the drags he took from his cigarette.

In more of a peeved tone, she snapped, "Your lip wasn't busted this morning, either."

Brennyn noticed it first, but the little, bloody gash on his bottom lip wouldn't go unnoticed for too much longer. It looked as though he might have found himself in a scuffle this morning. Oddly enough, the wound was very befitting to his features. It added to the ruggedness, I suppose.

Again, he shrugged.

"Why were you letting Andrea Slutvarez dry-hump you? I thought you were with Leah? Why the hell do you even talk to those whores?!" Brennyn scolded him, flailing her arms in the air as if she had gone mad... mad with an overdose of jealousy and rage.

Skylar acted as if he hadn't heard a peep from Brennyn as he confidently strode up the bleachers. Plopping down next to Shannyn, he reclined beside her, and carelessly snatched at her remaining french fries.

She laughed, and pushed her lunch tray over to share with him.

Having Skylar up this close, I could see what many of his tattoos were of. A lot of them were small, but there were enough to cover, at least, seventy percent of his arms. Some of them were from video games, like Pacman chasing three brightly colored ghosts down his right forearm, and a small tattoo of Spyro the dragon. Others paid homage to rock bands, like that same Nirvana smiley on his shirt that was inked on his left wrist, and the logos for bands like KISS, ACDC, and the infamous red mouth of the Rolling Stones.

Brennyn continued her rampage. "And why the hell are you skipping classes?! You could go to juvie! But, more importantly, where the hell did you skip too?! You're on probation; can't you go to jail if you're caught somewhere you're not supposed to be?!"

Skylar only sighed. I think he was trying his damnedest to tune her out, but you can't tune Brennyn out. In the few hours I had spent with Brennyn, I knew that you could only hide from her or try to kill her, but neither option would be promising.

"Are you even listening to me?!" Brennyn wailed.

Having hit his breaking point, Matt huffed. "Thing One, shut your trap! Thing Two, stop letting Skylar eat your fries! If he wants lunch, then he should pay for his own!"

Contrary to his looks, Skylar spoke as lightly and innocently as a child. "How rude."

"Oh, Sky," Shannyn smiled, and pointed an ivory finger nail in my direction, "this is Jake!"

What? Why did she say that?! I was blending in perfectly with the scenery, and then she just had to go and make him look at me... Oh, god, he's looking at me!

I could feel the red creeping up to my cheeks, and I was sure I would've combusted into a million pieces if it wasn't just an uninterested glance that he spared in my direction.

"He that kid that made you have to replace some science equipment?" Skylar drawled toward Matt, who just finished up the last of his burger.

"Yup," Matt popped the 'p.'

Skylar glanced at me once more, gave a nod of approval and the slight hint of a smirk that made  me nearly implode, and said, "Nice."

Did that mean he accepted me into this little group? Or was he going to try to sell me drugs in the near future? I wasn't sure, but I knew that he made me extremely nervous.

With a sudden, shrill wail that nearly made me jump out of my skin, the schoolbell signalled that our final two classes were resuming.

In groaning protests, students began to drag themselves back inside.

Lunch was only fifteen minutes, but it felt like forever with these people. At least I would be able to tell my mom that my first day was very interesting... to say the least.

"C'mon, Jake," said Matt.

"Huh?" I coughed, taken off guard.

"Shannyn told me your next class is French with Ms. Blanc, and I have that class too," he grinned.

"You're coming with me," Brennyn snapped. Her manicured, black claws gripped Skylar's forearm and dragged him up off the bleachers.

His nose scrunched as if to say, What the hell?

"A little birdy informed me that we have gym class together," she wickedly smiled.

His pink lips curved down, and he uttered, "Goddammit," before she whisked him away down the bleachers and across the football field.

"Aw," Shannyn sighed, "I'm by myself."

But then the same cute, muscular brunette that Brennyn called a "sleazeball" smiled up at Shannyn from the bottom of the bleachers.

"Yo, Shay," he winked. "Do you have Mrs. Lopez for Spanish next?"

Shannyn's face brightened at least five shades of red. She sheepishly nodded, "Yeah, Mike."

"Cool, so do I. Can I walk you to class?"

In a hurry, she rushed down the steps, where Mike looped arms with her and lead her into the school. Girl's got game.

"C'mon, or we're gonna be late," Matt chuckled.

He grabbed my book bag and sprinted down the bleachers.

I hadn't even touched my pizza, as reminded by the constant grumbling complaints of my stomach, but I dashed after him anyways.

He handed me back my bag once I reached him in the middle of the cafeteria, where kids lollygagged around only to be reprimanded by the peeved lunch ladies. The ladies shooed us all out of the wide room, and a sea of snail-paced students swamped the halls. Many of them grumbled about wanting to go home already, some grunted that school should be less than ten months a year, and others just whined about frivolous things.

"Do you know any French?" Matt asked.

"Not really. Just the occasional line from a movie, and I know 'bon jour ', but that's about it," I sighed. I've tried to learn foreign languages before, but I could never really grasp it. If I had any say in my class placement this year, I would have chosen anything but a foreign language. Hell, I'd even choose gym over languages!  "Do you?"

"Oui je sais parler français," he grinned.

I'm sure, if it weren't impossible by the laws of anatomy, my jaw would have hit the floor. "Why are you taking a French class if you can already speak it?"

"Because it'll be easy. Plus, you should be happy I can speak French."

"Why?"

"I can help you with your homework."

His smile was so wide that I couldn't help but smile back. Now I saw  why some of the girls were so bummed when Matt came out last year. He's a real catch.

"Good afternoon, boys," greeted an older teacher with flowing brunette hair, gray eyes that gleamed through her glasses, and a welcoming aura that drew us into her classroom.

She waved at us from behind her wide, wooden desk. French textbooks littered her desk, as well as flashcards, and stacks of sheets typed with translations. All around the white classroom were banners dawning words in French, pictures of France itself, and even a miniature of the Eiffel Tower in the back of the room.

"Hey, Ms. Blanc," said Matt, giving her a slight wave.

I gave an appreciative nod in her direction.

Matt sat at the desk closest to the door, and pulled me into the desk beside him.

"Matt Tremaine; I remember you from my 8th grade literature class," Ms. Blanc publicized in front of the incoming students who began to fill the remaining desks. "And, you are..."

"Jacoby Gallagher, but you can call me Jake," I said.

"I'm honored to have you in my class this year, Jake," she beamed.

Just then, the tardy bell rung as the final students got seated.

"Good afternoon, class. I'm Ms. Blanc, and I'll be teaching you all the wonderful language of love this semester," she jested, earning girly awes from every female in the class, and vexed groans from the males. I think Matt even sighed.

Ms. Blanc proceeded to hand out text books that we'd be using starting tomorrow, and word sheets with their English and French translations. For the entire thirty minutes, she let us skim through our books, and talk to our other classmates.

Matt and I got bored enough to act out a cheesy, French romance scene, but I ruined it when I had to skim the word sheet every five seconds to come up with a response. Matt thought it was funny, and I was starting to really like his laugh. It was one of those contagious ones where he laughed, and then people all the way on the other side of the classroom felt the radiation of his amusement as well, and they couldn't help but smile too.

Oh, god, that sounded really mushy.

The bell signalling the end of fifth period wailed, and nearly every student vacated the class in a rush. Matt and I hung back a little bit, putting our text books in our bags and making small talk.

"Brennyn tried to hook me up with you this morning," I divulged.

Matt heartily chuckled. "At least she has good taste."

My face immediately heated up. I knew I was probably as red as a tomato, but Matt didn't seem to notice at all, nor did he even bat an eyelash when he said that.

"What's your next class?"

"Astronomy, room 102," I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

"That's right next to my biology class in the science hall. We can walk together."

"Bye, boys," Ms. Blanc waved as we got swallowed up in the throng of students in the hall.

"Hey," I said. "Would it be too personal if I asked you why you called Skylar a homewrecker at lunch?"

It felt odd even saying Skylar's name so liberally. A part of me thought that he was going to jump out of the crowd at me, and - I didn't even know what he'd do - just from saying his name. It's kind of like saying three Bloddy Marys in the bathroom mirror. Like, I'll open the pits of hell right here in the hall way if I said his name twice more. I don't know, but it was a really weird feeling.

Matt's demeanor visibly slumped.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude-"

"It's okay," he cut me off with a light smile. "Last year, I pretty much came out to everyone in school. Surprisingly, I didn't get any flack about it. I knew it would be easier with my classmates, though. My family is a whole other story..."

Clearing his throat, he continued, "Four months ago, I told Skylar, the friend I thought I was closest to, that I was afraid to come out to my dad, 'cause my father is a Jesus freak. So, taking it into his own hands, Skylar kissed me in front of my dad, and my dad hasn't talked to me since."

Honestly, what took me by surprise the most was the fact that Skylar kissed Matt. Skylar was the type of guy that seems straighter than a pole...

"That's terrible," I whispered.

He nodded, and slightly chuckled, "The rest of my family, especially my mom and older siblings, took it well, though. My sister, Tasha, said she knew I was gay all along. But I'm not sure how she would know that... big sis intuition, I guess."

"Why would Skylar-"

Speak of the devil, and he doth appear.

Before I could fully articulate my inquiry, the crowded halls began to disperse because Skylar was walking in our direction with Archibald Crowley, the gym teacher, at his side. Crowley used to be the weight-lifting coach, but was demoted for unknown reasons. Everyone practically pissed their pants when they saw Crowley coming, and that was amplified even more by the scorn-poisoned glare etched into his features, the bulging muscles that made him look like Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime, and the firm hold he had on Skylar's upper arm.

"Great," Matt muttered. "Sky managed to piss off Crowley on the first day."

"Get to class," Crowley barked. His deep, vengeful tone bounced off of every locker horrifically.

Everyone scattered like grease in a hot pan, including Matt and I who had unknowingly already made it to the science hall.

Matt gave a curt wave as he got caught in a current of students who all rushed into biology class.

I, on the other hand, quickly scurried into room 102 before the herd got a chance to trample me.

This classroom was actually really beautiful. All over the black, brick walls were large posters of swirling nebulae of different hues. In spots where the brick was exposed, there were meticulous paintings of celestial objects. Hanging from the ceiling were miniature planets, stars, and even a satellite, and there was the entire solar system dangling from the middle of the ceiling. As well, the entire back wall of the class room was a long bookcase filled with nothing but books on astronomy. Even the writing on the blackboard up front was astronomical: the date, September 4th, 2007, was written in stars. Literally, every character was comprised of tiny, hand-drawn stars. That must have taken awhile to complete.

"It all glows in the dark," chuckled a deep, elderly voice.

I hadn't even noticed that I was ogling at everything until a little, white-haired old man emerged from the back of the classroom. His eyes wrinkled with crows feet as he smiled at me. He reminded me of an old, eccentric librarian, like Mr. Dewey from The Pagemaster.

"Really?" I gasped in awe.

He gingerly nodded, "Take a seat, young man. You'll get to see the beauty of astronomy soon."

"I'm Jake," I said. 'Young man' wasn't something I'd enjoy being called for the rest of the year.

"In that case... it's lovely to meet you, Jake," said he as the class began to fill with students.

I took a seat near the back, as the old man scurried to the head of the room through the crowd of incoming students.

Once everyone was settled, he announced, "Why, it's a pleasure to see all of the new, young faces this year. I'm Professor Oleander... I will be teaching you the many wonders of astronomy... Some of you may be wondering why you don't have a science course on your schedule... That is because this class counts as a science grade, not an elective, so remember to pay attention.

"Today, we will watch a video documenting the life of a star... Get comfy, and enjoy the show."

With a wide smile, he cut off the lights.

Everyone gasped and giggled as the planets dangling above our heads pulsed to life. They glowed and ebbed, and some of them gently spun like baby mobiles.

"Eyes up front, scholars," said Professor Oleander. He flipped a switch on the projector at the front of the room. Soon, the entire front portion of the room distilled a video showing the gradual evolution of a star, and an accompanied voice that explained each stage of the star's life.

Ten minutes into the class, when the video was just becoming really interesting, a sharp knock resonated from the door. Mr. Oleander motioned for everyone to continue watching the video as he hurriedly answered it.

The gruff voice of Crowley swam throughout the room, "Skylar Glass gave Billy Abel a bloody nose during dodgeball. The attack was said to be malicious, and with Skylar and Billy's history I believe that to be true. Since it's the first day, Mrs. Bermudez is letting Skylar off with a warning."

I'm not sure if Crowley was trying to whisper or not, but if he was, he was surely failing because everyone heard and had begun to whisper about the ordeal.

I had no one in this class to whisper to, but, if I did, I would have surely said, "Billy Abel deserved it. He's been known to provoke people, and I even saw him shove someone in a locker back in 8th grade. He's a real douchebag." Which was all true. Billy was supposed to be a senior, but had been held back twice. I think that's why he's always such an asshole to people.

Professor Oleander gave a terse reply and ushered Skylar into the class.

The only desk left was three rows and catercorner in front of me. Skylar plopped into the seat, and slid down in the most uninterested of positions. But, not even a minute later, his eyes visibly lit up when they meet the video projected in the front of the class. It was about half-way through the life cycle of a star. He pulled himself up, and leaned over his desk to get a better look.

As creepy as it sounds, I had a bird's-eye view of Skylar from where I was sitting. I guess I could be called an observationalist who liked to memorize every detail of everything. Like, the way Skylar's chin was tilted up very unselfconsciously as he was enraptured in the video; the dignity of his strong jawline, and how it just faintly moved when he breathed; that one, little strand of hair that fell in his eyes every time he moved; the faint curve of his neck whose skin glistened under the illumination of the overhead planets and the projector light; the dip of his collar bones that he just brushed a finger across; the shadows his long eyelashes casted against his pronounced cheekbones; the skew lines of his broad shoulders and narrow hips; the way he walked with such purpose-

"Alright, scholars," Professor Oleander's voice boomed, as the lights were flicked on.

I hated that - I hated that so much. Nothing annoyed me more than when someone turned on a light switch in a previously dark room, and I almost go blind from the sudden brightness. I abhor that.

I was being such a creep staring at Skylar so intently that I didn't even notice that the video was over.

"Can anyone name a possible life cycle of a star?" Professor Oleander hopefully inquired.

A chorus of groans ebbed throughout the room, and not a single hand was raised.

Oleander's shoulders dejectedly slouched, "I see no one was paying attention, then."

Yet, out of the corner of my eye, a confident hand slowly rose.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Glass?" Oleander beamed.

My neck nearly snapped in Skylar's direction.

"Stellar nebula, massive star, red supergiant, supernova, black hole," Skylar drawled, trying his best to sound uninterested.

"Well done," Oleander exclaimed. The little old man practically jumped for joy.

The final bell of the day echoed throughout the school. Every student darted from their seats, eager to get out of school for the day.

"Be ready to pay attention tomorrow, scholars," Oleander called.

I hesitantly looked to my right, but Skylar was already gone.

Well, this day was very interesting...

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