The buzzing of my alarm tears me out of whatever state I was in. I know what it is before I even open my eyes. Don’t want to deal with it, but it’s there, getting louder. I sigh and look at the screen—same old alarm. Same old sound. It’s like it’s burned into my brain by now.

Well, here we are. I think, staring at the ceiling, The day I’ve been dreading for a week. I stare at the ceiling blankly. School.

I get up, shower, brush my teeth, and fix my hair a bit. I stand in front of my closet, trying to pick an outfit—something that won’t make me stand out, but also won’t get me bullied. I end up settling for a pair of jeans, a shirt, and a jacket. By 6:30 a.m., I’m ready and upstairs by 6:34. I eat the breakfast my mom, Renee Monroe, left for me.

By the time I’m up and ready for school, both of my parents are already out of the house. My mom joined a startup salon when we moved here, so her days are spent getting that off the ground. My dad is already at work.[TL1] 

I had hoped that by sophomore year, I’d be driving myself, but my birthday isn’t until October, so I have to wait a while. Not that it would matter much. It’s not like I’d have a car to drive anyway. Waiting for the bus always sucked, and now it sucks even more. I have to find somewhere to sit and pray I don’t end up in someone else’s seat.

7:00 on the dot—the bus pulled up. Talk about punctuality—not a minute late. As I stepped onto the bus, a wave of anxiety hit me, heavy and suffocating, like stepping into a pool and realizing you’re in too deep. My world blanked out, and each step felt heavier than the last, like I was dragging sandbags that soaked up more water with every move. Time slowed, the murmurs of the other students fading into a dull hum. My eyes stayed glued to the floor, like lifting them would shatter the fragile illusion that I was invisible.

My face must have been as pale as chalk dust on a blackboard, drained of any color. Before I could take another step, I felt a light tug on my jacket sleeve. I glanced to my left and saw her—a girl with short, black hair that brushed her neck and skin the color of rich caramel, smooth and warm under the soft light of the bus.

I continued to stare at her, studying her like she was a book I was trying to decode. Her light tugs turned into a sharp pull, and before I knew it, I stumbled into the seat beside her, hitting my head on the side of the chair in the process. Embarrassment flared as I slid my body up to sit properly, rubbing my head and looking at her with what must have been a mix of confusion and shock—wild, maybe.

She met my gaze with a calm, almost amused expression, her lips curving ever so slightly, like she knew something I didn’t. “Feel free to sit here,” she said, her voice smooth but casual. “Or don’t. But wherever else you sit; you’ll probably get kicked out. Real territorial people on this bus.”

Her voice snapped me out of the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in my head, only to start a new storm. Why did she pull me over to sit here? What does she want? I glanced around the bus, scanning the other students. Maybe I should try sitting somewhere else... but where?

I let out a quiet sigh, deciding for my safety that staying put was probably the best choice for now. Better to sit here and figure out the dynamics of this place before making any moves.

Realizing I hadn’t responded to her yet, I let out another sigh and mumbled, “Thank you,” before pulling out my earbuds and popping one in. But just as I reached for the other one, she snatched it right out of my hand and popped it into her own ear.

I froze, unsure of what to do. Is this normal here? Do people just... do that? I hesitated but ultimately let it slide, pressing play on my playlist. The bus rattled down the road, and I remembered someone mentioning earlier that the ride would take about 45 minutes, picking up kids from all over before reaching the school. Forty-five minutes on this anxiety trap... great.

For the first 20 minutes, neither of us said a word. The silence wrapped around us like a heavy blanket, but then she suddenly cut through the silence. “It’s kind of rude to sit next to someone for so long and not even ask their name.”

I blinked, caught off guard, but not entirely surprised. “It’s also kind of rude to steal someone’s headphone,” I replied, trying to sound at least a little confident.

She smirked, unbothered. “Well, you were trying to tune out the girl who saved you from being indefinitely hated on your first day on this bus. Hell, it took you five minutes just to say thank you.”

I glanced around the bus, noticing for the first time how crowded it really was. Almost every seat was full, and I could imagine the kind of chaos I’d have caused if I’d tried sitting somewhere else. My mind wandered to the potential disasters—getting yelled at, shoved, or worse—before her voice yanked me back.

“See? There you go again, ignoring me,” she said, pinching my arm lightly. “And you’ve got the nerve to call me rude.”

I flinched, my attention snapping back to her. How does she have so much energy this early? I wasn’t planning on making friends on this bus. Honestly, I’d been hoping to fade into the background like a shadow in the corner of the room—silent, unseen, and unbothered. But maybe... just maybe, this was a chance. Maybe God had thrown me a lifeline. I wasn’t much of a godly man, but if He was looking out for me, I wasn’t about to complain.

I took a deep breath and muttered, “Sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting more. I racked my brain, scrambling for what to say next. Don’t mess this up, Omari. Say something.

“So, uh... uhmm...” I stammered, stumbling over my words for what felt like an eternity. Finally, I managed to get it out. “I never caught your name.”

“Nyra. Nyra Graves”

I looked over at her again, stealing another glance as if trying to crack some unspoken code about her. She didn’t feel like she belonged to any particular group on this bus, not like the others. Something about her seemed... different. But before I could dwell too long, she caught me looking, and I quickly turned my head, pretending I was just scoping out the bus.

Toward the front, things seemed quieter, kids huddled together, faces buried in handheld consoles or books. Nerdy types, I guessed. In stark contrast, the back of the bus was chaos. Voices clashed over one another, loud enough to drill into my skull. That had to be the “popular” kids or the ones who didn’t care much about rules. Just looking at them made my chest tighten.

As I surveyed the crowd, a realization hit me: I didn’t belong to any of these cliques. Not the nerds, not the rowdy back seaters. I was floating somewhere in between, aimless. My best bet was staying put or trying to edge my way into the quiet front. Anything to avoid becoming a target.

Nyra broke my train of thought. “So, I’m guessing you’re new here,” she said. Her voice was casual but direct.

I nodded. “Yeah, I just moved here about a week ago.”

She studied me for a moment, her gaze sharp and analytical. It was as if she was picking me apart piece by piece, uncovering secrets I didn’t know I had. I shifted in my seat, feeling like a specimen under a microscope. After what felt like an eternity, she turned to the window and said, almost offhandedly, “You’ll survive. Hopefully.”

Her words made my stomach drop. Survive? What did that mean? My throat felt dry as I stammered, “What do you mean, ‘hopefully survive?’” My voice cracked slightly, betraying my unease.

She turned back to me, her face calm but her eyes dancing with amusement. “Chill, man. I’m just messing with you.”

Relief flooded through me, though I wasn’t entirely convinced. I let out a nervous chuckle, trying to match her energy, but inside, I was still on edge. Who was this girl?

Deciding to retreat for a bit, I popped one earbud back in, letting the music wash over me. Nyra seemed content to let the silence hang for a while, but after a couple of songs, her voice cut through again. “You know, this rides about 45 minutes. You can either sit there in awkward silence or actually talk to me. Your choice.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of her words. She wasn’t wrong. With an awkward half-smile, I replied, “You’re right. Might as well.”

Satisfied, she leaned back, as if she’d won a small victory. But just as I started to relax, I noticed something in the back of the bus—a group of kids whispering, their eyes darting toward me. My pulse quickened. Were they talking about me? What had I done to warrant attention already?

Nyra nudged me, breaking the tension. “You good?”

I blinked and nodded quickly. “Yeah, just... thinking.”

She gave me a knowing look but didn’t press further. Instead, she leaned back and let the silence return. For a moment, I considered thanking her for pulling me into her seat, but the words didn’t come out.

Finally, I broke the quiet. “So, how long have you been going here?”

She glanced at me, slightly surprised I’d spoken. “My whole life. This is my second year at the this high school, but I’ve always been in this school system. Same schools, same people.”

As she talked, her words began to flow effortlessly, filling the space between us. I didn’t have to respond much—she carried the conversation with ease, and I found myself grateful for the distraction. Her voice had a calming rhythm, pulling me out of my thoughts and into the moment.

The bus jolted as it made a sharp right turn, screeching to a stop. The doors opened with a groan, and sunlight poured in.

“Guess we’re here,” I mumbled, more to myself than anyone else.

“Yep,” Nyra said, standing and brushing off her jacket. She looked back at me, a small grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “Welcome to the jungle.”