-Alex-

It was eerily quiet in the low morning light, a silence broken by my yawn as I stretched my shoulders which were sore from the long drive over to my half-sister's house last night. My friend Abel had driven me, as I hadn't gotten my license quite yet, and of course no car available to me since my family had kicked me out. The bed was comfortable, but the walls were bare, with a few random East Asian artworks here and there. This was the guest room of Grace Auburn's house. She was thirty-four, and I was living with her since my parents had kicked me out of the house because I... well, I didn't really hear much except the buzzing of their voices shouting at me, but it was a long time coming.

I was honestly surprised that I hadn't been kicked out sooner. They were always on my back for stupid things, but my dad hadn't hit me since I was ten, so I was kind of surprised that they were so bothered about what I did. They either neglected me or were really strict, there was no sane in between. Luckily, I didn't have a lot of attachment to my parents as I'd always used my friends as a coping mechanism, like Sheila, who I'd kissed a couple times instead of facing the fact that my parents would never change. It wasn't like I had a crush on Sheila, it was very casual. I don't think I had ever really had a crush on a girl, but that didn't mean that I wasn't straight. As long as I didn't think too hard about my parents, I was alright. Oddly enough, I was scared of being away from my parents, as living out of survival mode would give me more time to think. I hated thinking.

Today, however, was my first day of senior year, and I would be lying if I wasn't at least a little anxious for it. As I kicked off my duvet, I went over to my closet, and put on a white hoodie and light wash jeans. I had left the house fast, so I hadn't taken that many clothes with me. Only enough to last me two or three days. Grace had promised me she'd take me shopping, which I was looking forward to so people wouldn't call me weird for wearing the same three outfits on repeat for months. Outfit repeating wasn't bad, but that was just a bit excessive. After I had picked out my clothes for the day, I went to brush my teeth, and looked in the mirror, taking in what my face looked like. Weirdly, I felt like my face looked different every day, or maybe it was just my hair that changed. I had short dark hair, brown eyes, and permanently tan skin, which, unless people were stupid (which they usually were) revealed that I was not the white person my features suggested. This one guy I knew thought I was white for around two years before he wondered why my skin was still as dark in winter. 

My hair was actually looking quite nice today, so I only brushed it a little. After I spat out my toothpaste, I put on some moisturiser and then some sunscreen to protect me from skin cancer. I exhaled shakily, mentally preparing myself for what I would find downstairs. Time to face the music.

The fuss I had anticipated in the kitchen was actually pretty uneventful. The contrast to the mornings I spent with my parents to the morning here made me almost feel unsettled. Grace was humming a tune I didn't recognise, and even had a bowl, milk, and a cereal box sat on the table, which I assumed was for me. I was used to screaming in the morning, not soft humming and already offered cereal. The fact that peace made me uneasy was probably telling of how much trauma I had, huh? Even though I knew I was gone from that house, I felt like the ghost of their voices were still following me.

"How you feeling?" Grace asked me as I sat down. At my grimace, she laughed. 

"Yeah, senior year is rough for everyone. Especially with what you've been through. Try to make some friends though, okay? And try not to be violent."

I'd never really been especially violent, except for a small phase I had when I was 9-10 years old. Back then I took everything everyone said personally. It was a side effect of the fact that things had gotten worse at home, but my violence issues eased up as I got older, aka when I stopped paying attention to them. But Grace couldn't know that. This was only the second time we met, so I safely assumed she was only saying that because I was a teenage boy. 

Ever since I was 10, I took any violence I inflicted as a notion that I had failed to not let my parents affect me. I preferred to act like they didn't even exist. Heck, I'd made it this far, so I think my strategy was going pretty alright. I would never lose myself to violence.

Grace drove me to school that day, but made sure I knew that she was only doing that for the first day, as she worked as a nurse. It was fine. I had google maps.

The school was called Willow Secondary, due to the abundance of willow trees in the area. The building was bigger than my last school, but I still felt a faint pang at the knowledge that I'd never be able to go back to my old one, that I'd left my friends and... yeah, friends behind.

They'd given me my schedule ahead of time, which I greatly appreciated. I was very...directionally challenged. I mentally scanned over the piece of paper I was clutching in my hand like a lifeline, trying to read the small letters that would lead me to calculus A. I think that was the regular calculus, and then B was probably for people in a different stream...

As I shuffled back and forth like an idiot, I felt something firm bump into my back. Oh. Someone's chest. I turned around, trying to apologise, but the guy I had bumped into was already leaving. He was white, perhaps Irish given the smattering of freckles across his arms and his red hair. Unfortunately, since he'd walked past me so fast, I didn't get to see the colour of his eyes. 

Fuck. Why was I already so interested in a stranger?

Suddenly, someone else appeared at my side, (luckily without having bumped into me first), a tall boy with brown hair and a twinkle in his eye. 

"You need help getting places?" I nodded at him, amused by his accent, an accent which I couldn't quite place. He swung his arm around my shoulder before I could protest, looking down at my schedule with a grin on his face. 

"Hey, we have the same first class!" I wasn't sure whether to be enthusiastic about this or not, so as I looked up (fuck he was tall) I smiled at him.

He held out his hand for me to shake. "Ryder".

Together we found that calculus was on the second floor, with the teacher Mrs Grimmette, a short woman with very curly hair. It was more of a strawberry blond, something which reminded me vaguely of the red-haired boy I had seen earlier. As I sat down in my seat, I glanced to my right, where Ryder had already placed himself. I was kind of surprised he was becoming this friendly to me so fast. Perhaps he didn't have many friends.

I clicked my pen absentmindedly, looking behind me to see a boy with his head already on the desk, falling asleep before the class had even started.

The redhead.