The classroom had a unique charm, unlike anything I’d ever seen. Soft fairy lights hung from the ceiling, casting a gentle glow that blended with the natural light streaming through the tall windows. Potted plants lined the shelves along the walls, their leaves spilling out like green tendrils trying to reclaim the space. The air had a faint earthy smell, like freshly turned soil after rain. The desks were arranged in small clusters, giving the room a cozy, communal feel. Despite the dim lighting, the room wasn’t dark; the fairy lights provided a warm, inviting atmosphere that made it feel alive.

Standing frozen at the entrance, I felt more fear than admiration as I analyzed the room. Students filled most of the seats, their voices low but constant. My eyes darted around, desperately searching for a place to sit. The bell rang, signaling the start of class, and I did another quick sweep of the room. That’s when I saw it—a single empty chair, tucked into the farthest corner.

Something about that chair felt... off. It seemed to call out to me, its silence almost taunting. Whispering sweet, silent words, luring me toward it like it was meant for me. If I had any choice, I would’ve picked any other seat.

I scanned the room one last time, praying for an alternative. There wasn’t one. Resigned, I sighed and started the slow walk toward the chair. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the air around me thickened with every move. By the time I reached it, my legs felt like lead. I set my bag on the floor, placed my laptop on the desk, and tucked my schedule into my jacket pocket.

I inhaled deeply, then exhaled in a way that was a little too loud, catching the attention of the kid sitting next to me.

"You good? You looked kinda lost getting here," he said, his voice casual but his face slightly curious. His expression was hard to read—somewhere between friendly and mildly amused.

I glanced at him, already tired of answering questions, though I’d barely been here an hour. “First day,” I muttered, my voice tinged with fatigue.

"Ah, makes sense." He nodded knowingly. "Nice to meet you. My name is K—"

Before he could finish, a loud thud echoed through the room, followed by two sharp claps that reverberated off the stone walls. The sounds seemed to linger, filling every corner of the space.

“Good morning, everyone!” The teacher stood at the front of the class, her voice warm but commanding. Her nameplate on the desk read Mrs. Ellison. She was a tall, elegant woman, her curly hair tied up in a loose bun with a few strands framing her face. She wore a long flowy skirt and a blouse that matched the earthy tones of the room, her overall demeanor both calm and authoritative.

“This is English Literature,” she said, her voice weaving through the room like silk. “And today, we’ll be diving into the roots of storytelling, exploring how myths and legends shape our understanding of the world.”

She paused, her gaze sweeping across the room before landing on me. “Oh, and before we begin, we have a new student joining us today.” She smiled, gesturing toward me. “Omari, please stand up and introduce yourself.”

The words hit me like a bucket of cold water. I froze, as if someone had cast a spell that locked me in place. My chest tightened, my pulse quickened, and my palms grew clammy. It felt like I was trapped in a spotlight, every pair of eyes in the room boring into me.

I finally stood, my movements stiff and mechanical, my head hanging slightly low as I scanned the room. I noticed a group of kids near the back, partially obscured by the dim lighting. They were whispering and glancing at me, just like on the bus. My stomach churned, and my mind raced.

I took a deep breath, my voice shaky as I stammered out, “Good morning. My name is Omari, and it’s my first day here.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I quickly sat back down, my face burning with embarrassment.

“Thank you, Omari,” Mrs. Ellison said kindly. “Welcome to our class. I hope you find your time here engaging and rewarding. Now, let’s get started. Please take out your notebooks.”

I rummaged through my bag, pulling out my notebook and flipping it open. Mrs. Ellison began her lecture, and I started jotting down notes, the rhythmic scratching of my pen against the paper helping to ground me.

Just as I began to focus, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Suppressing a groan, I turned slightly, wondering how many more people planned to interrupt me today.

“So, your name is Omari,” the boy next to me said again. He leaned in slightly, offering a small smile. “Like I was trying to say earlier, I’m Khalid.”

I took a moment to look at him properly this time. His dark, gelled hair was neatly combed to one side, and he wore a well-worn sweater that looked like it had seen many days of use. Despite its faded color and slightly frayed edges, it seemed like a staple in his wardrobe or maybe a hand me down.[ER1] 

"Nice to meet you, Khalid," I said cautiously, trying my best not to keep this conversation very long

“It’s nice to have someone else at this table outside of this guy over here,” Khalid said, lightly kicking the other person at our table.

“I swear, Khalid, if you do that one more time, I’m going to kill you,” said the girl sitting beside him. Her voice was sharp, but her expression carried a mix of irritation and amusement. She was striking—deep brown skin that seemed to glow in the classroom light, sharp almond-shaped eyes framed by long, dark lashes, and braids that fell just below her shoulders, the ends decorated with small golden cuffs.

“Chill, I’m just playing. You know that” Khalid replied with a snicker.

The girl rolled her eyes and turned her attention to me. “Omari, this is Zoya...”

“I think you’re forgetting another title,” she said sternly, cutting Khalid off.

He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s also my girlfriend.”

I groaned inwardly. So that’s why this chair was open. It was like I’d walked straight into a trap, stumbling into the middle of a lion’s den.

“Sorry for intruding. I’ll find somewhere else to sit tomorrow,” I said, trying to keep my tone warm and apologetic.

“Don’t bother,” Khalid replied quickly. “Most of the—”

Before he could finish his sentence, an eraser came flying across the room and smacked him square in the forehead. His head jerked back slightly, and he blinked in confusion.

“That was a warning,” Mrs. Ellison, the teacher, said flatly. “Better not hear you trying to talk while I’m teaching again, Khalid.” She adjusted her glasses and returned to the board as if nothing had happened.

Khalid winced, rubbing his forehead, while Zoya smirked. “See, that’s what you get for always talking so much in class,” she said.

“I’m sorry I’m such a good guy compared to you, Zoya,” Khalid shot back, still massaging the spot where the eraser had hit him.

He leaned closer to me and lowered his voice. “Like I was trying to say, a lot of these guys probably won’t accept someone outside their group, so good luck trying.”

I glanced around the classroom again. He wasn’t wrong. Each group seemed tight knit, almost like small kingdoms in a vast empire. Breaking into any of them felt impossible.

I sighed and whispered back, “Yeah, I see that. Once again, sorry for disrupting your couple time.”

To my surprise, both Khalid and Zoya burst into silent laughter. I sat there, confused, as they tried to stifle their chuckles.

“Dude, it’s really fine,” Zoya whispered, her tone softer now.

“Yeah, seriously,” Khalid added. “We don’t mind having a new friend around here. Besides, it saves me from having to spend my entire day with this loser.”

Their kindness caught me off guard. I had expected indifference, or maybe even hostility, but not this.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

We fell into a light conversation, mostly small talk about the school, teachers, and the ridiculous amount of homework everyone complained about. Khalid kept cracking jokes, and Zoya occasionally chimed in with sharp, witty remarks that kept him in check.

The bell rang, cutting through our conversation. Mrs. Ellison stood up, assigning the first homework of the year. Groans erupted from every corner of the room, but I felt oddly calm.

As we packed up, Khalid turned to me. “Guess we’ll see you at lunch, yeah?”

Zoya nodded. “You’re stuck with us now,” she said with a sly grin.
I nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. Maybe finding my place here wouldn’t be as impossible as I thought