The bell echoed through the school, ringing my eardrums uncomfortably and causing me to startle out of my skin. Time for lesson 1. signalling the start of class.

Our timetables indicated moving to Classroom 48, so Yasmine and I scurried around the bustling students, finding the stairs, and painfully making our way up them. Sure, after wandering up and down halls, and asking multiple students for directions, we where ten-minutes late, but at least we made it… eventually.

Mr. Martin, our English teacher, glared at us through his square spectacles, his lips pressing in frustration as we interrupted him mid-sentence. There were two spare desks in the middle front of the classroom, and we hurried over quickly, not wishing to irritate him further.

"You must be the new students Kaitlin Yarrow and Yasmine Mai, correct?"

"Yes, sir," I spoke quietly, as Yasmine nodded.

“Good. I assume you have your books with you?”

I gestured to the copy of Romeo and Juliet that I’d just placed on the table, and he nodded briefly before returning to his own book and reading a passage from page twenty-seven.

The lesson dragged on, the class so silent you could hear every sigh of boredom, the shuffling of tired students against their chairs, and the quiet grumbling of stomachs.

“Romeo and Juliet – although ending quite darkly – is quite simply about the impact societal expectations have on young people, such as yourselves.” Mr. Martin spoke passionately, his voice droning in the background of my thoughts.

“However, it also shows the rawness and vulnerability of young love, and how delicate these relationships can be. Kaitlin—,” I sat up suddenly at the sound of my name, forcing myself to zone back in, “What would you say is the main theme of the story?”

“Oh, um…” I trailed off with uncertainty, suddenly wishing that I’d paid more attention.  This was only my first day, for gods sake. “I’m not sure.”

Mr. Martin’s smile dropped, and he sighed disappointedly. Whether out of annoyance for my lack of concentration or sadness that I simply didn’t understand the beauty of literature, I didn’t now. Instead of calling on another person – muttering something about how we simply did not understand the beauty of classical literature – he answered the question himself. “It explores the destructive power of love, and how it clashes with the uncontrollability of hate, violence, and fate.”

I nodded, suddenly intrigued. There was something about that sentence that struck a bell, but I couldn’t quite place a finger on it. It was like trying to clutch onto the ruthless flow of air or desperately clutching to remember a dream that was already fading.

“—at the end of the story, they both end up committing suicide to be with each other in the afterlife, even though everything was mostly just a miscommunication. This represents impulsive, young love, shattered due to the tragic consequences of a bitter family feud. Does anyone know what this means?”

I looked around the classroom, most people either chewing at the corner of their nails or doodling on the table, so I raised my hand tentatively. Yasmine raised her eyebrows, surprised that I’d chosen to speak, but clearly proud I’d found confidence so early after not paying attention for the first two thirds of the lesson.

“Yes, Kaitlin,” Mr. Martin smiled, his eyes crinkling with both surprise and happiness.

“It shows that reckless decisions and pointless hatred caused due to stupid societal expectations can destroy innocent lives.”

“Very interesting take, Kaitlin,” he said honestly. “Can you elaborate what you mean?”

I sighed, wishing that he would just take my answer and move on, but I nodded anyway and took a moment to catch my words.

English passed quickly after that, despite its slow start.

“Thankyou for today, everyone. You may leave,” Mr. Martin said.

The class stood up quickly, passing along individual thankyous and filtering rapidly out of the class. After reaching for our timetables and realising Yasmine and I were going to have to part ways, we wished each other good luck and encouragement before turning down opposite halls. Looking out our timetables, Yasmine and I realised we where going to pass ways.

After going down multiple flights of stairs and entering Classroom 23, I immediately noticed the difference between the white asylum walls of the school and the dark ones inside the Drama room. The inside of the room was fully black: carpet, tables, and walls. Only one half of the room had furniture, with the tables and chairs facing a small, raised stage on the other half.

I sat down at an empty table on the far right of the classroom, far away from the door, resting my head in the crook of my elbow as I watched more students pile into the room.

Five short minutes later, our teacher, Ms. Kently entered the room and sat down at a squashy leather seat. She crossed her legs on the chair – an unfamiliar move from a teacher – and rested her palms in her lap, a wide smile and bright eyes scanning the classroom.

"Good morning, students!” She said brightly. “Most of you have already had me for half a year, so you know who I am, but I notice that we have a new student today.” She clapped her hands together excitedly, just once, watching me carefully. “My name is Ms. Kently, and I’m twenty-two years old, have five siblings, and moved to Mythcrest just after I graduated high school.”

“Cool,” I muttered, grateful for the information but unsure what to say next.

She stared for a few seconds, apparently waiting for me to say something, but spoke again when it was clear I was not planning on saying anything more. “Would you like to introduce yourself too?”

No I would not, thank you very much. “Sure.”

My face felt unusually warm as I stood, a light sheen of sweat coating my palms as I wiped them on my jeans.

“My name is Kaitlin—” I said, my voice probably too soft, but as confidently as I could conjure. “— but I usually go by Kay. I’m sixteen years old, but I don’t have any siblings. It’s just me and my mum. I moved to Mythcrest Hills last month, but I used to live in Apperdale.”

“That’s nice.” Ms. Kently smiled encouragingly, prompting me to continue. “How far away is that?”

“We drove here; it took about eight hours.” It was only about two hours by plane, but mum didn’t have enough money to spend it all on unnecessary flights.

She nodded with a small smile, clearly picking up on my trepidation. “Trust me when I say I understand how scary it can be moving so far away from where you were born. Thank you so much for introducing yourself.”

Smiling weakly, I sat myself back down, feeling slightly comforted by the fact that someone understood – even if just briefly – how I was feeling. Ms. Kently is definitely my new favourite teacher.

“So, I would like to know if anyone is willing to be Kay’s buddy for this term, just so she can get the hang of how we do things in Drama.”

My head snapped up. No thank you. I can figure it out myself. I’m not in kindergarten. I do not need a buddy.

“Is there anyone who would like to volunteer?”

I kept my head bowed, embarrassment flowering my cheeks and twisting my stomach in circles. Somebody… somebody… anybody.