He rides away on his scooter, leaving me staring like a fool.

That is so mean. What is his problem? He kinda seems like a weirdo.

I shake it off and also move ahead. Into the large school premise that seems to stretch on as far as the eyes can reach. My mouth falls open in amazement. The buildings were majestic and elegant—ancestral looking. I did not see it from this view when I first came. Or was it me who didn’t notice it because I was tensely nervous? It is making me wonder if it had formerly been a castle. There are a lot of teenagers moving about.

It is just like the crowd of fans before a famous singer’s concert. I stand still at a stop secretly admiring almost everyone I see. And then it suddenly hits me that I should be at the administration office to get my student stuff instead of gawking out here.

Thankfully I have been here before which means I do not have to go through the awkwardness and unpleasantness of asking assholes. Two people I asked where the administration office is the first time I had come here looked at me strangely and walked off without answering.

It was the third person who later pointed me the directions. I suspected it might be also wrong as there are a lot of people who do that too for sick fun. But the person really did point me in the right direction. I activate my inconspicuous mood which is bringing my eyes down, but in a way that also lets me see where I am heading so I don’t bump into anyone.

Some highschool troubles starts with bumping into the wrong shoulder.

I hear a bell ringing. Then people started leaving and heading out. That must be the start of lessons. I’m not that late them. I head towards one of the large buildings which is where the administration office is. Inside is so ultramodern. I did not admire it much the first time I came. I certainly can’t much now since the bell has already rang.

"You said your name is what again...?" The middle-aged looking man in large circular gold-rimmed glasses sitting behind the mahogany desk asks. "Gweneth!" I immediately realize that my tone was a little too fast and unethical. If Mom were here she would scold me. "Gweneth Iris Calloway." I respond in a cool calm tone this time. He hums delightfully. "That is a spectacular name. My granddaughter has it too." Granddaughter? He has a granddaughter! But he doesn’t look— "You are thinking that I look too young to be a grandfather aren’t you?"

Did he just read my mind? "I’m not a mind reader kid. I know because I get that all the time." He chuckles lightly. Kid? Someone else is also calling me a kid. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

I get it that I am short in height but do I look like a kid that much?

"So Gweneth, welcome to Krohn’s High." He says as he hands me a blue box. "Thank you sir." I reply. "No don’t thank me." He drums his fingers on the desk. The way to thank the school for your scholarship is by getting excellent grades and obeying the rules. Working hard and enduring all you can to reach your success."

"I will sir." I respond with an enthusiastic smile. "I can see that. You do not look like you would be any trouble to the school." What does that mean? I want to ask him but I am asking it within myself. "Everything you would need is in there. Your map, locker room key and time tables.... Ah, it says on your application that you are a swimmer. Is that true?" Not quite, but I answer yes. That is if doing a few breast strokes in the small swimming pool in middle school. Or going down a slide can count as swimming. "Go see the coach of the girls swimming team. She would decide how you would fit in and what locker room to give you.

Alright that’s all. You can run along to class now." I remove the cover of the box, wanting to search for the map that he says is inside. I find it. And it is as wide as a whole country map. I freak out on how I am supposed to find my way around school with it. Who even uses maps nowadays. I calm down and go through it. I can’t be that bad of a map reader. I am bad. Luckily I saw a group of four—five girls coming from ahead. They look daunting and every bit the unapproachable girls. But I summon up courage to ask them. I can’t be late for my first class. The timetable says it’s English. "Hello? Pardon me..." I say, pushing through the nervous thrumming inside me to speak to them. They stop. One looks at me from head to toe. She is tall and has long red hair and an eyebrow piercing. Is she even a student at this school? Because she definitely does not look like it. It is not just her now. Almost all of them are looking at me the same way irritated way one looks at an annoying fly. My heart is gradually sinking to my stomach. I knew this wasn’t going to be good. "Is that supposed to be a dress?" The red haired speaks. I instinctively look down at my dress. "This is a crime in a fashionista’s world like mine. You should hide your silly self away from my eyes. But instead you have the nerve to come irritate me? Do you have a death wish?"

She points to herself. Her hazel eyes looking like it is in a blaze. I swallow the lump in my throat. "I.... "

"Be generous and forgive her, Courtney. I don’t think she knows the level of crime that she has committed. She looks new." Another girl says. "You’re right, Miranda. This one is a new face. I haven’t seen her before." Another chirps. The red haired’s eyes seems to soften a bit. "Is that so....? You do look like a new face." She puts her manicured fingers on her pink glossy lips, tapping. "Let me guess. Scholarship?" I nod yes. She and the other girls begin a boisterous round of laughter. "I should have known. Gosh, you covered your stink gutter rat scent so well that I almost did not smell it." One of the girl’s come forward and sniffs me. "She does smell nice for a gutter rat." She tells to the others, and then faces me.

"What perfume is this? Who got it for you?" She asks. "What? Cat got your tongue? Aren’t you going to answer me?"

"It is—" I started, but she cuts me off.

"I was kidding. Why would want to know a rat’s perfume?" She laughs and walks past, intentionally shoulder bumping me. She tells one of the girls to hand her a wet tissue with wish she cleaned her shoulder and throws it at me. They all laugh and walk off. I stand there trembling with hurt and unspoken anger. I only just wanted to ask for directions. "Hey." Someone calls. I look to see a girl still standing there. She is carrying a lot of bags that possibly cannot be hers.

"You made a mistake by approaching them. What were you thinking? That they would happily answer you?"

"All I did was stopping them to ask a question. Is that so much of a crime?"

"To them, it is. We are nothing more than death below their feet."

*****************

You and Tawan barely spoke. The distance between you grew naturally, without argument, just silence. During that time, something also shifted in him. Arin, once the center of his attention, no longer felt the same. She still didn’t look at him the way he wanted. Still didn’t treat him the way he had imagined. Slowly, he began to see what he had been ignoring all along.

You.

You were the one who stayed. The one who never left even when he acted careless or unfair. The one who quietly supported him without demanding anything in return.

And that realization came too late for him to fix easily.

Then came the school camping trip near the riverbanks and mountains.

The class was scattered across the site—some setting up tents, others gathering firewood, a few fishing by the water. The atmosphere was loud, relaxed, almost peaceful.

Tawan found you near the cooking area.

You were preparing food, focused, tying up loose ends while others moved around you. He hesitated for a moment before walking over, holding a freshly caught fish in his hand like it was an excuse to approach.

Tawan blinked, clearly caught off guard, but it was too late—you had already reached for the letter, snatched it back, and stepped away.

"I didn’t mean—" he started, but you were already turning.

And then you ran.

Later, someone nearby muttered loud enough for him to hear, "Everyone in class already knows she likes you. And you still choose Arin, who doesn’t even care about you."