As I watch the suburban neighbourhood pass by in a blur I fantasize about the first day in my new school. I see myself walking in and not immediately becoming the target of jocks. I see myself eating at the cafeteria and not getting smirked at by the popular clique. In fact, my first day goes as uneventfully as I could hope for. But of course, this is not my first rodeo; and when it comes to transfers in high school, I know that nothing goes as planned.

“Kylar! I’ve been calling your name for the last five minutes! You okay back there?” says my aunt Leah with a concerned expression.

I wipe my face and mumble, “Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” smiling at her through the rear-view mirror.

“You’re going to love it here. Wellspring is just the perfect place,” she says encouragingly.

She turns the car to the left and I get the first glimpse of my new school. Slightly in awe of the huge gate, I briefly wonder how everyone in Wellspring can afford this place. The gate has a strange design, somewhere in the middle of Postmodern and Greek. I get the feeling that the two really shouldn’t go together but the gate is incredible and I feel my anticipation rising.

Wellspring High is located on a huge compound. It has one of the highest campus size to student ratios in the country. The list of facilities in their brochure blew my mind. I mean, what high school has separate grounds for lacrosse, football, soccer; three Olympic size pools, tennis courts, an indoor basketball court, two dojo/gyms, and I don’t know how many other things in the recreational rooms scattered over the campus?

I take a deep breath, readying myself to start talking to overprivileged spoiled brats. As we near the parking lot, I find myself growing calmer and calmer. I’ve done this a million times, I have nothing to worry about.

There’s a certain self-confidence you grow when you’ve had to transfer from place to place all your life. You see, most of the anxiety and nervousness in a teenager’s life comes from trying to fit in. It’s a conflict between the part of you that’s trying to find itself and the part that craves acceptance. When you move around as much I did, you pretty much abandon the acceptance part. It doesn’t really matter since in the back of your head you know you’ll be leaving soon, no matter how much you hope to stay. Of course, this attitude brings a whole host of other issues. According to the internet, they range from commitment issues to sociopathic disorders.

As we slowly come to a halt in the parking lot, I am drawn out of my introspection by Leah. “You have everything you need?”

“Yep,” I say as I shuffle though my backpack. Some blank notebooks, a map of the campus, cell phone, keys, a pen…a pen. “Except a pen, shit. I can’t believe I forgot a pen on my first day.” I glance around the empty parking lot, frustrated. Looks like we’re late too, there aren’t even any stragglers still parking their vehicles.

She gives a slight laugh, “Oh you’ll be fine. Good conversation starter if anything.”

“Huh. Why didn’t I think of that before? It’ll come in handy in the future,” I say in an off handed fashion.

Leah narrows her eyes at me, “It won’t. Because we won’t be moving anymore.” She gets out of the car as she enunciates the words as if to make sure I hear her.

Aunt Leah’s job has always been keeping us on the move. She works as a specialty consultant to banks for security analysis. Her jobs took us all over the country and during vacations, even the world. It’s actually pretty sweet. Plus, she gets paid a bomb. So at least I’m not the poor, nerdy, new kid. Just nerdy. And new.

Well perhaps not even that nerdy this time around. At the very least, I hope they won’t assume that, just by looking at me. See, this time I came prepared. My frustratingly late growth spurt and training for the soccer team might just pay off. Apparently, I’m north of the skinny-nerd line when it comes to muscle mass, but I probably shouldn’t take my aunt’s word for it.

We are hardly half way to the large double doors of the school office when a man bursts out and comes rushing towards us. He’s wearing a plain black suit over a white shirt, all two sizes too big for him. He uses his hand to straighten his almost non-existent hair and gives aunt Leah a wide smile.

I let her walk a little in front of me so he doesn’t pay too much attention to me. Not that he would, standing so close to my aunt. She has that kind of effect on people. Mostly men.

He shakes her hand and stammers out a very flowery welcome. All I can think is, clammy, as I see Leah surreptitiously wipe her hand on her dark blue jeans.

Turns out the middle-aged man, Mr. Stilinski, is the principal and that it is his responsibility to take me to my class and introduce me to my classmates.

“You sure you’re not nervous? Want me to come with you?” Leah coos at me teasingly.

I roll my eyes at her, “Stuff it old lady.”

She hates it when I call her that. The only reason I still do it is because she so obviously isn’t that old. Leah took me in when she was barely twenty, it’s actually quite humbling to know how much she must have given up on for me. My parents died in a plane crash when I was five, my grandparents didn’t want anything to do with their ‘wayward children’ but Leah took me in without a moment of hesitation. I love her for it but she needs to live a little. Especially now that I can take care of myself. She’s barely thirty and looks even younger than that but I can’t remember the last time she just went to hang out with some friends, or for a date.

I mime gagging behind the Mr. Stilinski’s back as he nervously asks her if she would like to be shown the campus after he’s done taking me to class. She sees it and gives me a death glare as she politely refuses him.

It used to creep me out but now I have fun thinking of ways I can use Leah to get benefits from my male teachers. Of course, she’s completely against it and will probably slaughter me if she heard any of my ideas, so I keep them to myself. The woman has really sharp nails

“Mr. Coates, if you will follow me,” he says as he begins to walk to a building on the right of the one he came in from. As we walk he lines out different things I could be a part of in a calm and reassuring voice. When I mention that I was thinking of trying out for the soccer team he gives me the dates for the try-outs and makes sure I have a map to the campus. All in all, he was very helpful and I feel bad about the negative image I had created of him in my mind.

I’ll be attending my sophomore year at Wellspring High and if Leah is to be believed, my senior year as well. I thought I didn’t care either way but after seeing the available classes, the prospect of spending two whole years here was becoming really appealing. Admittedly, I may have gone a little overboard – five AP classes may be a little too much for me to handle.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

When we reach class 2-C, presumably the class I am to be a part of, he asks me too wait outside as he enters. The noisy class quickly goes quiet and I’m surprised he has that effect over the students. I figured he would be the kind of principal that gets walked over because of his nervous demeanour.

With nothing to do, I look around the corridor of the homeroom building – yes, the entire two story building only holds homeroom classes and a bunch of group study/practice spaces. The notice boards lining the walls of the passage are filled with colourful posters and flyers detailing various events, parties and club activities. Honestly, this place feels more like a full-blown university than a high school.

Stealing my attention away from a particularly amusing invitation to a D&D session, Mr. Stilinski ushers me into the class. As I get my first look at the supposedly lovely population of Wellspring, I am a little surprised.

Either my class got very lucky or Wellspring has a very, very high ratio of attractive people. I mean compared to all the high schools I was previously at, at least 50% of this class would be comfortably in the ‘popular’ zone.

It was strange to see and made me a little nervous. “Mr. Coates, why don’t you introduce yourself?”

I clear my throat as subtly as I can and say, “Sure,” giving a slight nod to Mr. Stilinski as if I was thanking him for the opportunity. “Hey guys, I’m Kylar Coates. Mr. Stilinski probably mentioned it already, but I’ve transferred to Wellspring High for my sophomore year and hopefully my junior and senior year as well. No, I didn’t get kicked out of my last school. No, I didn’t get chased out. Just a normal kid with a guardian whose job moved us around a ton.”

I give them a small smile when I’m done talking and adjust the bag on my shoulder. I think I’ve done a pretty good job of making them interested in me. They probably never thought that I was kicked out or even chased out of my last school but now I had them wondering. Before, I was just a new kid but now I’m a new kid who may have a reason for transferring here and that makes them curious. And really that’s probably the best I can hope for, there’s nothing worse than being completely ignored on your first day.

On second thoughts, there is, I think as I remember the times I got bullied.

I walk down the aisle and take the only empty seat in front of a girl with reddish hair. I don’t really get to see her face as she’s talking emphatically to the girl behind her. I really hope she isn’t an airhead.

“Alright everybody please settle down and get out your class organizers. My name is Sandra Turner and I will be your homeroom teacher this year. Take a minute to go through the organizer in case you haven’t already and then I’ll entertain any question you might have,” says a lady in a red blouse and beige pants as she sits down behind the teacher’s table.

When I look up to see her I get the distinct impression that she was staring at me but quickly turned away. Something about the way her eyes seemed to look everywhere but at me. Strange.

I take my attention back to the sheet of paper labelled ‘Class Organizer’ and swear under my breath after reading the very first line.

‘Please use a black or blue pen to neatly fill out the following:’

I can’t believe I forgot to get a pen.

I am interrupted mid sigh as I feel a light tap on my shoulder. I turn around only to receive a small playful wink and a pen before the decidedly beautiful girl goes back to her organizer.

“Is everything alright Mr. Coates?” says the teacher before I can say anything to the girl.

“Umm yeah, all good.”

That woman gives me the creeps. What was up with her tone?

I’m so happy not to have to make an idiot out of myself asking for a pen that I completely forget to question the girl. Also, I feel more than a little elated that she winked at me. Sure, it wasn’t a flirty wink but the fact that a pretty girl thought it was socially acceptable to wink at me meant I was probably safely away from the untouchable nerd line.

I quickly fill out all the classes I had decided to take and glance around the room. I don’t know whether I should walk up to the teacher and submit it or just hold on to it so I wait to see someone else go.

Only then do I realize that I never really gave any indication that I forgot to get a pen. So how did the girl know? I prepare myself to turn and ask her when she hops out of her seat with the sheet of paper in her hand.

“Here you go Mrs. Turner,” she says and turns back.

As she walks toward me I give her a questioning look, “How’d you know about the pen?”

She gives me a coy shrug and takes her seat.

I decide to drop the matter and just submit my sheet instead.

So, it’s decided then. There is no going back. I’ll be taking AP Calculus, AP World History, AP Computer Science, AP Latin and AP Psychology along with Creative Writing, Algebra and Martial Arts. I just signed the deal with the devil and I watch my soul leave the class room along with Mrs. Turner, with a fair amount of trepidation.

She tells us to wait for about fifteen minutes after which we should get our schedule and class locations.

I carefully think about what to do next. Should I just take out my phone and pretend I have a life, or should I try to start a conversation. Using a phone might make my classmates think I’m not social but on the other hand starting a conversation might make them think I’m piling on to them to make friends.

Decision, decisions.

I am saved the trouble when the girl behind me taps my shoulder again. I turn to get my first real look at her. She has deep blue eyes and now that I see it clearly her hair is more than ‘reddish’, it’s almost as though someone set her head on fire. The blue eyes and red hair make her a statistical anomaly. I open my mouth to tell her the same but thankfully catch myself before I say something stupid.

“So. What are you?” she asks seriously.

“Excuse me?”

“What are you? Are you an alien? Robot? Mad scientist’s experiment?” she elaborates the ridiculous question.

Still at a loss for what to say, I shake my head in confusion.

She just sighs and turns away.

What the heck just happened?

I replay the conversation in my head but get nothing out of it.

Barely a minute later I get an email. Whipping out my phone I see I was emailed my schedule with instructions to head to class as soon as possible.

I start to walk to the door hoping to catch someone’s eye so I can ask them where Dojo – 2 is. Apparently, I have Martial Arts classes first thing Monday mornings. Fantastic.

“Out of the way twerp”

I turn around to see a powerfully built boy behind me. Thanks to my growth spurt we’re basically the same height. I decide to try something new.

“What did you just call me?” I ask while widening my shoulders slightly. Standing up for yourself feels pretty good.

Before I can react, his hand moves rapidly towards me and I nearly piss myself but he grabs my phone.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“I have MA too. Come on, I’ll show you where it is,” he says after checking my schedule.

Huh. So, he’s nice, just a little rough around the edges. Whatdyaknow?

I promptly follow him out the door. We talk as we walk and I find out his name is Justin Timber – yeah, you read that right. The fact that he was bigger than me and has been taking the Martial Arts class since his first year convinced me to not laugh though.

 As Justin leaves for the changing rooms he tells me that I should go to the office at the back of the dojo and they would give me a uniform of my size. Apparently, you can’t enter the dojo without a uniform during school hours.

So, we depart with a ‘see you later’ and I rush to the coach’s office. I don’t want to be the last one to enter the class.

As I walk I feel a headache coming on. This has been happening to me for a week now. I’d get sudden unexplained migraines that would leave me panting and then they would disappear without a trace. I didn’t want to worry Leah but I think it’s about time I get a doctor to take a look.

As I reach the door the migraine gets so bad it nearly blacks out my vision. Pushing myself through the pain, I open the coach’s door.

What the actual fuck?

I can barely keep my eyes open because of the nerve splitting pain but through my blackening vision I see, well I’m not sure what I see.

 The man sitting at the desk is wearing a tracksuit, like you would expect a coach to wear. What you wouldn’t expect however, are the two fangs slightly protruding from his mouth and the deathly pale complexion. His eyes glowed red and his hands looked more like claws. He looks up at me and smiles in welcome.

“What can I do you for?” he asks lightly as though nothing was wrong.

My headache becomes too much to bear – it had never been so bad before – and I, very embarrassingly, pass out.