Chapter 16: new faces,old shadows

Derek adjusted the straps on his backpack, pausing at the doorstep. Captain Marcus Hayes, his foster parent, gave him a firm, reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’ve grown into someone strong, Derek. Life won’t wait for you, so don’t wait for it. Take what you can, but don’t lose who you are in the process.”

Derek nodded silently. “I won’t, sir.”

Marcus smiled faintly. “Good. And remember, doors always open here. You need advice, a place to crash, or even a hot meal—you come to me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Derek said, stepping outside. The cool morning air bit at his skin. For the first time in years, he was stepping into the world alone, carrying only himself and the lessons Marcus had drilled into him.

The walk to school was quiet, but Derek felt the tension in the air. He could sense the whispers before he even reached the gates. People were staring, and not kindly. Some faces were filled with sympathy, others with judgment. A few seemed curious.

“Whoa… that’s Derek,” a voice muttered near the lockers.

“Did you hear what happened?” another student whispered.

Derek’s head remained high, but he could feel the weight of dozens of eyes. Some students approached hesitantly, others more boldly.

A girl with dark hair and glasses stepped forward first. “Hey… you’re Derek, right?” she asked quietly. “I’m Lila. I just wanted to… say, I’m sorry about… everything. You didn’t deserve that.”

Derek nodded, acknowledging her words without emotion. “Thanks,” he said evenly.

Next, a boy with a basketball tucked under his arm approached. “I don’t usually talk to new people, but… welcome. You’re the guy everyone’s talking about, huh?”

Derek smirked faintly. “I guess so.”

“Don’t worry about the gossip,” the boy continued. “Most of it’s just noise. Name’s Marcus—don’t confuse him with your foster parent,” he added with a small laugh.

Derek allowed himself a small grin. “Noted.”

While others shuffled past, a few whispered among themselves, some bold enough to ask questions. “So, are you really… responsible for all that happened?”

Derek’s eyes narrowed. “I’m responsible for myself,” he said. “Everything else is being handled.”

A few students exchanged glances, surprised by his calm confidence. One of them, a girl with bright red streaks in her hair, leaned in. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t… look like someone who’s broken.”

Derek let a faint smirk appear. “I’m not.”

It was then that he saw her—Elara. She leaned casually against the lockers near the back of the hallway, her dark eyes steady and curious. Not mocking, not pitiful—just observant.

“I’m Elara,” she said, stepping forward. “I wanted to… welcome you. And say I’m sorry. For everything that happened.”

Derek studied her. “Thanks,” he replied cautiously. He wasn’t used to genuine kindness.

“Not just thanks,” she said with a small smile. “People talk. They watch. But I wanted to actually say something.”

He nodded. “Most people just… stare.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Staring doesn’t help. Talking… talking helps.”

The bell rang, pulling them toward the classroom, but Derek found himself stealing glances at Elara. Something about her tone, her presence, made the endless whispers less heavy.

During lunch, Derek sat alone near the fountain in the courtyard. The sun was breaking through clouds, casting fragmented light over the wet tiles. A group of students hesitated near him, then approached slowly.

“Mind if we sit?” one asked.

Derek glanced up. “Depends,” he said. “You here to judge me, or actually talk?”

“We… want to talk,” the first student said quickly, shaking his head. “Name’s Jared. We’ve heard what happened… it’s messed up. And I guess we want to say, um, we’re sorry for judging before knowing you.”

Derek’s expression softened fractionally. “I appreciate that. It’s rare.”

Another student, a girl with braided hair, chimed in. “I’m Tessa. Honestly, I don’t know what to say, except… I’m glad you’re here now. Maybe things will be different.”

Derek leaned back, letting the weight of their words settle. It was strange—he wasn’t used to anyone approaching him without pity or suspicion.

Elara appeared again, tray in hand. “Mind if I join?” she asked.

Derek shrugged. “Go ahead.”

She sat, setting her tray down carefully. “So… you’ve been through a lot, huh?”

“You could say that,” Derek replied. “But I’m not here for pity. Not anymore.”

Elara nodded. “I get it. Pity’s useless. I’m just… interested. Curious about the real you.”

“Real me?” Derek arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” she said, tilting her head. “Not the stories, not the rumors. Just… you.”

He allowed a small smirk. “You’ve got a lot of questions for someone who just met me.”

“Maybe,” she said, chuckling. “Or maybe I notice things.”

They talked, words bouncing between them, short sentences, long ones, questions, and retorts. Derek found himself laughing lightly—a sound he hadn’t made in a long time.

Several students wandered by, lingering, some sitting nearby to listen, some asking questions. “So… you’re the Cold Genius, huh?” one whispered.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Not interested in titles,” he muttered.

“But they talk about you,” another added. “About what you survived, what you’ve been through.”

Derek shrugged. “Survival isn’t a story. It’s a necessity.”

Elara leaned closer, her voice playful. “Still, you make it sound dramatic. A little flair doesn’t hurt, you know.”

Derek gave a rare chuckle. “I’ll consider that.”

The bell rang again. Students shuffled back to class, but several lingered, giving Derek curious glances. He noticed a few whispering and exchanging small smiles—a subtle shift. He was starting to be noticed not as a tragedy or a target, but as a person.

Walking to his next class, Elara matched his pace. “You know,” she said quietly, “you don’t have to go through everything alone. Even someone like you.”

Derek glanced at her, surprised at the gentle seriousness behind the teasing smile. “I’ll… keep that in mind,” he said cautiously.

“You better,” she replied, nudging him lightly with her elbow. “I’m not here to babysit, but I can be… an ally.”

For the first time, Derek felt a sense of something new. Trust. Connection. Maybe not fully earned, but possible.

As he entered the classroom, he glanced back. Elara waved, and he managed a small, unpracticed smile. It was the first time in weeks he hadn’t felt the weight of judgment pressing down on him.

Leaving the courtyard behind, he realized that surviving wasn’t just about strength, about fighting and enduring. Sometimes, it was about letting the right people in—and letting them walk alongside him.

And for the first time in a long time, Derek allowed himself to think: maybe he wasn’t just the Cold Genius anymore. Maybe he could be someone more.