Sitting down, it was Emma's turn.
"Hello, I'm Emma, I'm new here, coming from up uhhh north."
Her voice was simple, nothing more than a few words to introduce herself, but the way the room stilled... it wasn't normal. There was a pull in her presence, a weight that made it hard to ignore her.
Even Miss Hopkins, that chaotic mess of a teacher, couldn't keep her usual clumsy energy up as she tried to bring the room back to order.
"Alright, thank you everyone for introducing yourselves. Now, let's go over what this class entails..."
She stuttered her way through, her enthusiasm a loud attempt to distract from the discomfort she clearly felt. For the next twenty-five minutes, instead of listening to the lecture, I scanned the room. There were 300 days ahead of me, and I needed to know where I'd be.
Two.
Just two.
My luck, it seemed, had improved. Kind of.
I only had to deal with two of them. The worst of them, but only two.
First was Clara Waters.
She stood at 5'6", blonde hair and dimples that made her seem almost innocent. Almost. I'd been in the same grades as her for years, always finding her at the top of whatever social ladder there was. Cheerleader, dancer, theater queen—anything that let her shine. She wore her family's wealth like armor, and it made her untouchable.
But everyone knew how that armor came with a blade.
She used that family power to destroy anyone she didn't like.
And I was on that list.
We used to be friends. Well, kind of. Back in pre-k, I tripped and ruined her birthday cake. It was the start of a long, ugly war. I still remember the way she looked at me after it happened, like I had ruined her entire existence.
I've seen the damage she can do—people disappearing without explanation. The kid she got expelled for bumping into her in the hallway? He was never seen again. No rumors, nothing. I don't even know if he made it out alive. She's the type to say anything, twist any truth if it suits her. One lie about sexual assault got a kid sent to juvie.
If it weren't for the faint echo of familiarity we shared, I would've been next. She would've found a way to bury me, no doubt.
Then there's Maria.
I know, I know. What a catch, right?
Getting a girlfriend was easy. It's getting rid of them that's the problem...
We bonded over the simplest things — stray conversations, shared silences, the kind of moments that don't mean much until they suddenly do.
Then one day, she just… decided I was her boyfriend. No warning. No buildup. Just a declaration.
Imagine a rich lady scooping up a trembling, half-broken stray and deciding it's hers — that was me.
A tiny, traumatized dog she wouldn't let go of.
Still… I can't lie.
The free food was nice.
Maria is different. Not like Clara, not at all. She wasn't trying to climb social ladders, but she had her own... demons. She's a freak — not in the bad way, just… unnaturally strong.
The kind of person who bends the world until it fits her shape.
She always gets her way. Always.
You don't argue with someone like that. You don't fight.
You just listen — because fighting her is like shouting at a storm.
Maybe that's why she liked me so much.
I never said anything .
Silence was my only talent.
And the voice. God, the voice.
High-pitched and demanding. Always shouting, always angry. Her emotional needs were a hurricane, and I was the poor fool caught in the middle of it.
She used to be into games. Old-school stuff. We spent hours during recess, playing whatever she picked. I didn't have much choice—she made sure of that. Lose, and you were going to feel it. Pinches, chokeholds... she liked to remind you who was in charge.
Funny thing though, something changed. Her appearance, her attitude—it was like she shed an old skin. The short, choppy hair and the bones that poked out under her clothes... it was unsettling. It happened unnaturally fast. I attempted to appease her since even I could tell something had happened.
It didn't matter though. If I so much as glanced at someone else, she'd snap. One harmless note asking for an eraser, and I got stabbed with a pencil. It was nothing personal. She just... lost control of herself. It wasn't about me, it never was. It was about her own inability to understand her emotions.
Good thing she's my ex now.
Dillon Dillion oh Dillion .
Not even on the list. But make no mistake, we were rivals. Always had been, always would be.
It wasn't personal—well, not anymore. But when it came to competitions, food, anything that could show who was stronger, faster, better—he was the one who pushed me. It's almost like we needed each other to keep going. He could never let go of me beating him at literally anything...
At least It's just two of them out of seventeen. Not so bad.
Last year, I had six. I almost couldn't take it anymore, especially after the tacks in my underwear.
"Alright, I'm going to pass out some fun practice tests to see where you guys are at."
Miss Hopkins, in all her erratic enthusiasm, handed out the tests. She was a mess, bouncing around, trying to hype us up with promises of pancakes and phone time. As if any of us cared about that.
"Hmmm, pancakes," I muttered to myself while I filled out the test in record time, barely even paying attention.
"Alright, times up!" Miss Hopkins called out, snatching up the sheets like they were gold.
She wasn't done though.
"I'm sorry for tricking you guys! I just wanted to try out my new robotic grader from Zamazon! Only sixteen bucks—what a steal!"
The class barely registered the words before the results came up.
Miss Hopkins chirped, her voice so annoyingly chipper.
Liam 100%
Dillon 92%
Maria 70%
...
It wasn't that I was smart. It wasn't about that. I knew middle school grades didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. I stayed ahead of the curriculum just so I could sleep in class without worrying.
"Next time, you're mine, little Squeak," Dillon muttered, his frustration clear.
His words didn't faze me. I didn't care. I was already lost in my own world, avoiding the curious eyes that stared at me for too long. The ones who wondered how I scored so high.
Miss Hopkins clapped.
"Good job, Liam! Miss Johnson told me you love math, but this is impressive!" She beamed, oblivious to the fact that I was already halfway to the door.
Before I could escape the classroom entirely, though, I felt a tug.
It was Emma.
"Hey, let's walk together," she said, her smile disarming, leaving no room for me to refuse.
I nodded, almost absently, and walked with her.
I wasn't expecting much—maybe a quiet walk, maybe a couple of awkward silences. Instead, she talked. And talked. And talked. But it wasn't bad. It wasn't anything like the others, demanding or controlling.
It was just... her.
A few tangents here and there, her eyes wide with curiosity, and somehow it all felt... easy. For the first time today, I wasn't thinking about Clara or Maria, Dillon or the classes ahead. I was just... walking with someone who didn't seem like a threat.
Was I allowed to feel that way?
We arrived at the auditorium, and the moment was gone.
The walls were covered in bright, obnoxious cheerleading decorations, and the air was thick with the tension of a school that was too well off for its own good.
"Alright," Miss Hopkins chirped again.
Sighing to myself, I muttered, "Let's see how many of the seventeen are here today..."