I stood up and grabbed my bag from the floor, joining the line of students waiting to exit the bus. Through the window, I caught glimpses of the outside—a sprawling, desolate parking lot. Cracks veined the asphalt, some sections uneven and lifted, with tufts of grass stubbornly sprouting wherever they could. It did look like a jungle, just as Nyra had said.

Finally reaching the front of the line, I stepped out onto the pavement. My eyes scanned the area again, trying to locate the school. Where is it? All I could see was more of the weathered parking lot stretching endlessly. I took a deep breath and turned to my left.

And then I saw it.

The school towered before me, a massive structure carved into the side of a mountain. Layers of concrete walls stacked upon each other, draped in moss and tangled shrubbery. It was unlike any school I’d ever seen—larger, older, more imposing. It didn’t just feel big; it felt alive, like it had grown straight out of the earth itself.

I stood there in awe, staring up at the building as a chill ran down my spine. Something about the place felt off—eerie, even—but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. Maybe it was just my anxiety playing tricks on me, feeding off the sheer size of it. Despite having been here once before to tour the campus, I hadn’t paid enough attention. Now, faced with the reality of navigating this labyrinth, I felt utterly lost.

I scanned my surroundings, unsure of what to do next. I needed to get to the office, but figuring out how was another story entirely. As I debated, I turned and saw Nyra descending the bus steps. Her movements were almost unnaturally graceful, like she was royalty stepping into her kingdom.

Instinctively, I reached out a hand to stop her, to ask for help. But my hand froze midair. Should I really bother her again? Maybe I should just try to figure this out on my own. Slowly, I lowered my hand, my gaze dropping to the ground.

Why was this so hard for me now? When had I become this hesitant, this antisocial? I stared intently at the pavement, lost in my spiraling thoughts, when I felt a sharp pinch on my arm.

“So, how long do you plan to keep a girl waiting?”

Startled, I looked up to find Nyra standing in front of me, her usual smirk playing on her lips.

“Don’t you need help getting to the office?” she asked, as if she’d read my mind and already known exactly what I needed. It was unnerving how she always seemed to know when to step in and save me from myself.

“Uh, yeah,” I stammered, fumbling over my words.

“Yes or no,” she interrupted impatiently, her tone playful but firm. “I don’t plan on standing here all day.”

“Yeah, uh—thank you,” I finally managed to say, grateful and a little embarrassed.

Once again looking satisfied she started a brisk walk towards the school after a quick glance of admiration I started a light jog to catch up to her we walked for what felt like a mile before reaching the main building

The hallways were a blend of beauty and neglect, with towering stone walls that seemed to hold secrets of decades past. The floors, in stark contrast, were polished black marble, gleaming under the soft, fragmented glow of crystals dangling from the ceilings. Light refracted in delicate patterns across the corridors, casting faint rainbows that danced alongside the students as they passed. The lockers were another story—old, worn, their chipped paint and dented metal telling stories of people that had come before.

Students flowed like a river, their chatter a constant hum that echoed against the stone. Some strolled confidently, navigating the labyrinthine halls like they’ve done it all their lives, while others shuffled nervously, heads down, clutching their books. Each turn we took deepened my unease. Hall after hall, twist after twist—it felt like we were walking through a maze carved into a mountain.

Then, finally, we came upon a wide, curved opening, the words Main Office etched above it in bold lettering. The letters seemed almost ancient, weathered yet authoritative. My thoughts tripped over themselves. How many offices could there possibly be if this one needed to be labeled so prominently?

Nyra stopped just outside the office, gesturing toward the entrance with a flick of her wrist. “Here you are,” she said casually, sliding into one of the wooden chairs stationed along the wall. She lounged with a grace that contrasted the drab, squeaky chair. Her posture was relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, her fingers absentmindedly drumming against the armrest. It was as though she belonged here—like the chaos of the school swirled around her but never touched her.

I glanced at her one more time before stepping inside, feeling oddly grounded by her presence, even though I’d only just met her.

Inside, the office had its own air of contradiction. The carpet beneath my feet was an earthy, muted green, worn in places but still soft underfoot. The walls, like the hallways, were stone, but here they seemed colder, as if the warmth of the student-filled corridors hadn’t seeped in yet. The counter at the front was smooth and practical, made of some sort of dark wood, its surface polished to a shine. It was simple and functional.

I walked up to the desk, my nerves creeping in as I noticed a nameplate perched on the edge: Ms. Calloway. Behind the counter sat a middle-aged woman with sharp features and a disinterested expression, her hair pulled into a tight bun that seemed as severe as her demeanor. I hesitated for a second, then took a deep breath and said, “Hi. I’m Omari, and it’s my first day here.”

She didn’t even look up at first, her fingers scrolling on her phone with practiced indifference. When she finally acknowledged me, it was with a look that screamed you’re interrupting me. “Yes, I know,” she said, her tone flat and impatient. She shuffled through a small stack of papers on her desk and slid a couple toward me. “Sign these, and you’ll be on your way.”

I blinked, caught off guard by her abruptness. What even are these? I thought, but I didn’t dare ask. I scribbled my name without a second glance and handed the forms back. She took them with an exaggerated sigh, like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders.

“Here,” she said, handing me three unexpected items in quick succession: a thin laptop, a folded piece of paper, and a random bottle filled with some strange, swirling fluid. “Your laptop and your schedule. You should’ve gotten a tour to your classrooms already. If not, just find someone to help you. Good luck, kid.”

With that, she buried herself back into her phone, her thumb scrolling rapidly like my existence had already been erased from her memory.

stood there for a moment, stunned. What kind of teacher acts like this? I thought, clutching the laptop and folded paper tightly. And what exactly is this weird, vile bottle in my hand? Shaking my head, I shoved the bottle deep into my bag and walked out, wondering if this was the kind of attitude I’d have to deal with every day.

I step out of the office and take a deep breath; the air colder than I remembered. It smells faintly of damp stone and cleaning supplies. I glance to my left, spotting Nyra sitting there as if she owned the place—one leg crossed over the other, her head tilted back slightly, eyes half-lidded like she had all the time in the world. How could someone look so at ease here?

Before I can get a word out, she stands, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and snatches the paper from the top of my laptop. She studies it with an intensity that makes me feel like my entire high school existence is written on it. "Follow me," she says briskly, her voice leaving no room for argument, before turning on her heel and heading off.

I stand there for a moment, trying to process what just happened. She didn’t even ask. She just… did it. I’ve never met someone so bold. My feet move before my mind catches up, trailing after her through the maze of hallways.

We pass hall after hall, and I notice how each one seems to have its own personality. One hall is practically silent except for the faint hum of whispered conversations and the occasional shuffle of papers—students hunched over their desks or leaning against lockers with books open. Another bursts with life, laughter echoing off the walls as a group of kids toss a basketball back and forth, their backpacks discarded in a pile on the floor.

We make another turn, and the vibe shifts again. This hallway is darker, the lights flickering slightly. Groups of kids huddle together in corners, their voices low, their glances sharp. I feel their eyes flicker toward me as we walk by, and a chill creeps up my spine.

“Don’t worry about them,” Nyra says without even looking back. “They’re all bark, no bite. Probably.”

I can’t tell if she’s joking or serious, but her tone is so casual it’s hard not to believe her.

“Where are we going?” I finally ask, quickening my pace to walk beside her.

“Your first class,” she says, holding the paper up as if it’s a treasure map and she’s the navigator. “Might as well not get you completely lost on your first day. You’re lucky I don’t charge for this.”

“Charge?”

“Yeah,” she says with a smirk. “Tour guide fees. Don’t worry, though—I’m feeling generous today.”

I shake my head, unsure if I should laugh or feel indebted to her. But as we turn another corner and she confidently strides ahead, I realize that, for the first time since stepping onto this bus, I don’t feel completely adrift.

As we continued through the labyrinth of halls, Nyra’s pace remained steady, her confidence radiating like a beacon I was desperately clinging to. Every so often, she glanced down at my schedule, as though double-checking our course, but her stride never faltered.

"You've got an interesting mix," she said, waving the paper slightly. "A little bit of everything. Lucky for you, your first stop isn't too far from the VLSDD."

"The what now?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

Nyra stopped abruptly, turning on her heel to face me with an exaggerated gasp. "You don’t know what the Very Large Suspicious Double Doors are?" she asked, her voice dripping with mock shock.

I blinked at her. "You're messing with me."

She looked at me, straight-faced, with a mock annoyed expression. “I mean, it is two large doors. Or are you blind?”

She grinned, continuing to walk backward as she explained. "Maybe. But everyone calls them that. They're these huge, dramatic double doors at the heart of the school. Nobody really knows what’s behind them, though there are plenty of rumors. Some say it’s an old theater. Others think it’s a fallout shelter from, like, the Cold War or something. Honestly, I think the teachers just keep old junk in there."

I nodded along, not entirely sure if I believed her, but intrigued, nonetheless. "Sounds... weirdly ominous."

"You'll get used to it," she said, spinning back around to lead the way. "Or not. Either way, you’re going to pass them almost every day, so better to know they exist."

As we rounded another corner, I started noticing a shift in the atmosphere again. The students here seemed quieter but not in the focused, studious way of the earlier halls. It was more of an uneasy silence, broken only by the occasional creak of shoes against the floor or the dull hum of the overhead lights.

Nyra must have sensed my unease because she glanced back at me and smirked. "Yeah, this part of the school is... different. Just keep moving, and don’t make too much eye contact."

I wanted to ask what she meant, but the words caught in my throat as we approached another hall. The air seemed heavier here, the faint buzz of voices barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat. I noticed a few groups lingering by the lockers, their heads tilting ever so slightly as Nyra and I passed by.

"Why are they staring?" I whispered, trying to keep my voice low.

"New face," she replied nonchalantly. "And because I’m walking with you. Don’t worry—they’ll get over it."

I wasn’t entirely reassured, but I kept my focus on the back of Nyra’ head, trusting her to lead me through. After a few more twists and turns, we stopped in front of an opening larger than any I’d seen so far.

"There," she said, pointing ahead.

It was impossible to miss. Two enormous doors stood before us, made of dark wood that looked almost ancient, their surface carved with intricate patterns that seemed to swirl and twist the longer I stared at them. The doors were slightly ajar, but the gap revealed nothing but darkness inside.

"Is that..."

"Yep," Nyra interrupted. "The VLSDD.” Welcome to the most unnecessarily intimidating feature of this school."

For a moment, I was frozen, unsure whether to approach or wait for her to explain further. Nyra, however, was already on the move, heading toward the hallway beside the doors.

"Come on," she said over her shoulder. "Your class is this way. You can gawk later."

I hesitated, glancing back at the doors one last time before following her. Whatever was behind those doors, I had a feeling it was going to stay with me for a while.

Nyra led me two doors down, her pace as brisk as before, the soles of her shoes tapping softly against the marble-like floors. I tried to keep track of the path we took, but it was no use—every twist and turn blurred together, and the school’s size made it feel like we were in a labyrinth[RBV1] .

Finally, she stopped in front of a door with a small, rectangular window near the top. Through the glass, I could see students already seated, some chatting, others scribbling in notebooks. A teacher stood at the front, writing something on a whiteboard.

"Here we are," Nyra said, folding my schedule and tucking it back into the pile of papers on my laptop.

I turned to her, unsure of what to say. "Thanks... for, you know, all of this."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Don’t sweat it. Besides, I’m not done with you yet."

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

Nyra smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe. "I’ll come find you after this class and take you to your next one. No way am I letting you wander this maze by yourself. You’d end up in the janitor’s closet or something."

I couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension in my chest easing just a little. "I’ll try not to be a burden."

"You’re not," she said, her tone softer now. "Just... try to survive this class without zoning out too much, okay?"

I nodded, gripping the strap of my bag tighter. "Got it."

With that, Nyra stepped away from the door, giving me a small, almost playful wave. "See you in a bit, new kid."

I watched as she disappeared down the hall, her confident stride as steady as ever. Taking a deep breath, I turned back to the door, hesitating for just a moment before pushing it open and stepping inside.

This was it—the first real test of my new life here. And as much as I hated to admit it, I felt a little less alone knowing Nyra was out there, waiting to guide me through the rest of the day.