Camila Rose stared at her sketchbook at the table, unable to figure out what she wanted to draw.

"Camila, if you keep acting this way, you'll never make it far in life! This is your chance to make something better out of your life."

The young teen slammed her fist on the table. "I didn't ask to be born! Maybe if you and dad made better choices, our lives would be better."

"That's it! All you're doing is going to a bad school with terrible influences all around you," dropping her plate. "You think your drawings are going to you somewhere in life?"

"At least I won't be as miserable as you," swallowing her food, running out.

"Get back here," Ms. Rose yelled, only for her husband to stop her.

"It's been a hard year for her. Let's just give her a chance."

The young teen almost collapsed in the train, barely making it. Unable to get a seat on the A train, she found her reflection: a round adorable face, a wide forehead, and red-hair auburn hair through the camera lens of a trio of girls.

"Hey, she looks kinda good."

"More like a drained tomato."

"Wait but her face isn't red, her hair is."

She was about to apologize only for them to get off a few stops before she gained the confidence to raise her voice. They were lucky to not be squeezed in for half an hour with delays like she had to endure, stumbling out of the train.

"I miss my old school already," pressing the decline button from the same person asking if we could talk.

"Not now," sucking her teeth, trying to search her way through Downtown Brooklyn, panicking with only a few minutes to get to school and too many people walking around her to help.

—

A young male noticed her lost: he twitched, pinching his dark skin and moving up his glasses, stopping his run.

"Sigh, we really need to stop these apathetic New Yorker stereotypes," aggressively apologizing, persistently pushing, and hecticly hopping through the crowd, catching her as a busy man in a suit almost knocked her to the crowd.

"Aye, you joirk, say you're sorry," sucking his teeth and helping her up. "We all gotta move like Flash and Sonic but don't have their compassion. You okay?"

"Thanks, I'm just looking for the school nearby."

He looked down at her uniform, khakis similar to his, but a light blue shirt, and a dark blue sweater while he wore a plain long sleeved under his polo uniform shirt.

"You're with me," checking his phone. "Crap, we only got five minutes, hurry!"

When she admitted she was too tired to run, he lifted arm up his neck.

"Been there, then I'll run with twice our speed!"

With him as the lead, she almost screamed as he lead them at the edge of the street where the cars parked, passing the other students struggling to escape the busy street, racing up the ramp and sliding their ID cards once they got inside.

She collapsed to the room, tired, and drained, while he held onto the wall.

"Made it," staring at the wall. "What's your name?"

"Camila Rose. You?"

"Knight of Dreams, Silas Knight!" He searched around for their names. "We're in 201, perfect!"

"What floor is on?"

"Fifth," smiling.

How can you be smiling right now? "That's too long, we won't make it in time."

"Come, I know a shortcut."

Threatening the people to unleash a gassy storm if they didn't listen, he got them up the first floor stairs before retreating into the second floor and going up the exit staircase, where less students remained.

She watched him skip steps, but reach out to pull her up. The two rushed into the classroom as the bell rang.

"Take your seats, hurry," their teacher ordered, prompting them to take the middle when a student snided at Silas, taking the window seat he wanted.

"What was that about?"

"My popularity makes me either a friend or foe," he smirked, "depending on who you ask."

Another girl started snickering. "You, popular?"

"The definition is a well-known person or thing known about by a lot of people: therefore famous or familiar. Fits me like a glove compared to you."

"Shut up, you NPC," earning laughter at his expense. He sighed, yawning.

"I guess you're a NPC too because you're not particularly creative. Maybe use that brain of yours to make your own joke for once. Then again it's so small, it'd take a microscope to find," earning more gasps at her. Camila watched the girl's face get pressed and upset.

"This is why your father left you!"

Everyone started laughing. His head hung low. Camila leaned over to see his face, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Wow that's kinda mean," recalling people making up similar rumors about her.

He matched hers, getting a slight beat in her heart. He took a deep breath and sighed, briefly smiling at hers.

"Hey, background extras, I don't get while you're joining her. Cuz last semester, I remember most of you disappointed your fathers. When did you all become chatterboxes' lap dogs?"

"Are you calling me a bitch?"

"Don't get mad if I'm not talking about you," addressing another dark skin male in the room. This year I'm not letting you cynical crackheads break me."

"You're saying I don't look good? Well your face is more ugly than the girl next to you!"

Camila sucked her teeth, turning back around with annoyance and disgust. I don't even know you.

Silas stuck his head in front of her.

"She's more beautiful than you'll ever be, you Bad Girls Club reject," he blurted out in front of her. "How about instead of shitting on other women, you clean up your shitty behavior?"

"Are you done," the teacher interrupted, demanding them to sit down and be silent as Camila blushed, smiling.

She took out her sketchbook, starting a new drawing with a new idea in mind.