Just Bad Luck

As I stepped through the door and entered the house, my mother's eyes met mine, as she hurried into the living room with a tray clutched in her hands. "Reol, you're back? Come over here a moment." On the tray, I spotted a teapot and a few cups. Do we have guests? But why today? Especially when we had just moved in yesterday...

I continued walking toward my room, but just when my toes were about to land on the first step of the stairs, she emerged from the living room again, reaching out and grabbing hold of me. "What kept you outside for so long? And why are you covered in dirt?"

"Ah... actually..."

"Did you have a fight with someone again? Geez, when will you ever learn, Reol?"

"C-can I just go back to my room now?"

"The Abney's is here for a visit. Go and introduce yourself to them first."

"Can I quickly change into some clean clothes?" I glanced over my mother's shoulder into the living room. The Abney's lived right next door, and you could also see their house from my room's window. A lady was sitting on the couch, probably Mrs. Abney, and there was a girl about my age. Yeah, a girl. Enough reason for me to not go in there.

My natural impulse to retreat to my room became even stronger, but my mother's persistence won out, and I found myself heading into the living room. As soon as I stepped in, Mrs. Abney's eyes fixed on me, although the girl's gaze remained steadfast. "Oh dear, what happened to you?"

"Don't mention it, Mrs. Abney. He's always finding trouble wherever he goes."

My efforts to avoid her questioning proved futile. "B-but it wasn't my fault..."

"Stop with the excuses. Just tell me what happened!"

I sighed, understanding that I couldn't dodge her questions, and my eyes darted toward our guests. I felt uncomfortable under their inquisitive looks, desperately hoping for a way out of this situation.

"Mrs. Wright, it's actually not that uncommon in this area. There are quite a few troublemakers wandering around the neighborhood at this time."

Hearing her, mother nodded sympathetically. "But I hadn't heard about any issues like this when we were moving here..."

With a determined tug, my mother pulled me to sit beside her on the couch. For the longest time, I had despised being put on display, especially in front of guests. I preferred the solitude of my room, a haven from these awkward interactions.

I knew I needed to change that, to face them with a smile, perhaps strike up a conversation. But right now was the worst time. Given my current state, it was really challenging. Plus, there was a girl right beside me. Her gaze remained lowered, just as when I first noticed her, which provided a small sense of comfort, though not quite enough. Maybe she's just quietly laughing at the sorry sight I presented. Who could say?

But as it seemed, this time, I was trapped, a participant in a conversation I didn't want to have.

"Mrs. Abney, your daughter goes to Rudger's High School too, right?"

"Reol will be starting there as well, won't he? They'll be in the same grade too."

Right when I was thinking things couldn't go any worse, and now she had to bring up school. And she's going to the same school as me? What if we end up in the same class? That would mean every time we bump into each other, all these thoughts swirling in my head right now would rush back. I wouldn't even be able to meet her eyes, let alone even talk to her.

I chanced a quick glance at her, then hastily turned away, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. She was really... cu- um.... pretty, with an air of grace that made her stand out. And here I was, covered in dirt and scars, feeling utterly out of place.

How had my hopes for a new beginning gone so, so wrong? It was only my second day here, and I was already on my edge already. This wasn't the fresh start I had imagined, and I couldn't stop myself from wondering if my luck was forever against me.

In a room filled with conversation and tea, I felt like an outsider, a piece of the puzzle that didn't quite fit the picture. I glanced down at my hands resting in my lap. The sensation lingered that this was just the beginning of a turbulent journey in my new life.

Once I returned to my room that night, I slapped my cheeks a few dozen of times, flushing them red until my thoughts drowned with the pain. It was as though trying to physically purge my mind of the mishap, to clear the slate for the days to come.

"These are just ordeals I must face," I muttered to myself as I massaged my tingling cheeks. My initial day hadn't unfolded as I'd hoped, but I was determined to cling to the belief that it didn't determine the path of my journey in this new school.

That night, my thoughts unfurled into a ballet, spinning and twirling like dervishes in my mind. I mulled over countless ways to introduce myself to my new classmates, each idea more elaborate and convoluted than the last. I had to make a memorable impression, to convey the person I aspired to become, but nothing felt quite right.

The next morning, as I ventured into the unfamiliar corridors of my new high school, a tremor of anxiety ran through me. I passed down a number of classrooms, side by the side the corridor walls that seeped light in with occasional breaks, eventually reaching my class. 10-B. They all seemed so home, and on the other hand I felt like an intruder in this foreign territory, acutely aware of the eyes that watched my every step.

One interesting, or perhaps not-so-interesting, thing I realized this morning was that my route to school followed the same path I had taken on the second day I arrived in this town. The one where I encountered all those troublemakers. This meant that if I ever needed to go home late for any reason, I might have to take a different route, just to stay safe.

Rudger's High School. According to what my father had told me, it's considered a prestigious school in this town. I wasn't sure if the word "prestigious" really fit with me, though. Just because I came from a school in a more urban area, I didn't face any problems getting a seat here.

"Please, come on in." I entered the room, my nerves at their peak. Ms. Indy's eyes met mine, my new homeroom teacher, and at first, her expression appeared neither particularly warm nor cold. However, her tone quickly shifted from a matter-of-fact one to a more welcoming one.

"Everyone, meet Reol Wright, your new classmate," she declared, her words signaling the beginning of a new chapter. "Reol, please introduce yourself."

My heart thudded within my chest like a relentless drumbeat. "Um... I'm Reol W-wright. My family moved here j-just a few days ago." All eyes in the classroom shifted towards me. My words felt like they were stuck, harder to get out than I had practiced. People usually introduce themselves by sharing something interesting about them. I didn't have anything particular like that. Maybe without it, I couldn't make a strong first impression. Or just sounding really confident and energetic could work well too. But it hardly mattered... when I was stumbling over every word I spoke.

"It's n-nice to m-meet you all..."

And then a pause. A really long and awkward one. After Ms. Indy realized I was over, she proceeded, "Alright, Reol, please take the seat to the left."

She said the seat to the left, but there were actually two empty seats on the left side, one right after the other. And she didn't add anything afterwards, so I just thought I could choose which one to sit in, and so I moved closer to the first one. Just as I was about to place my bag down, I noticed everyone's eyes fixed on me with blank expressions. My hands froze midway, still clutching the strap of my bag, when Ms. Indy's voice spoke up once more, "Reol, that seat is already taken. You can have the one behind it."

I let out a sigh, shifting towards the seat behind and settling into its well-worn shape, while everyone else's attention returned to their own spaces.

This wasn't the introduction to my new chapter in life that I had imagined. I had dreamt of a confident entrance, one that would signal a fresh start. But reality had a different plan, far from my lofty expectations.

Are grand entrances just reserved for people unlike me, those who effortlessly commanded attention?

Back in my old school, I would never talk to anyone, during classes, recess, or anything. It wasn't always like that though. It hadn't always been this way, I reflected, but over time, as the relentless weight of my insecurities bore down on me, I began to perceive something dark beneath the surface of every interaction—a kind of mark, a stroke of ink that seemed to mar everyone's faces.

Maybe it wasn't always this clear, but as time passed, both I and my classmates began to realize the pointlessness of my efforts to connect. Those faint yet lingering expressions on their faces felt like mirrors of their opinions, and my fear of being turned away grew like a relentless hunger. It became a gap I was reluctant to bridge.

Even now, as I gazed upon my new classmates, I couldn't help but perceive those same faint marks etched onto their expressions. They weren't as bold or blatant as before, but they were undeniably present—a constant reminder of my fear, that one day, they too would uncover my perceived inadequacies. Perhaps they had already caught a glimpse of my vulnerability today, I couldn't be sure, but the dread of their judgment lingered like a shadow over me.

☐ Speak up more.

But it didn't mean anything if I just hid away because of my fear. So, with trembling hands and a racing heart, I turned towards the girl seated beside me, who had been keeping her face hidden behind a book all this while.

Her long hair obscured her features, and her fingers glided across the pages with delicate precision. For some reason, she seemed a bit familiar to me. I've always had a hard time remembering other people's names and faces. More so of those whom I'd never even talked to, or looked straight into the eyes before. But had I seen her before? She appeared absorbed in her own world, seemingly unaware of my presence. But I couldn't let that discourage me. This was my chance.

"Um... hi," I started, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

She didn't respond. Her attention fixed firmly on the book.

I swallowed hard, my eyes darting around the room. Everyone else appeared engrossed in conversation, their words flowing effortlessly. But for me, it felt like I was swimming against a relentless current, every word I wanted to say getting lost in the turbulent waters of my self-doubt.

I turned my gaze back to my desk, my fingers restlessly fidgeting. Beads of sweat formed on my temples, despite the chill of the winter morning. After a few quick breaths and a renewed surge of courage, I stole another glance at her as she slowly returned the book to her desk.

And then, I slowly brought my eyes back to my desk.

The same girl I met last night... Mrs. Abney's daughter... sitting right next to me.

Those black scribbles seemed to deepen, as if growing slightly darker.