Just Bad Luck

The hinges groaned a rusty protest as I pushed open the front door. Stepping inside, the scent of strong tea and something sweet hit me like a wave. My mother's eyes met mine, as she hurried into the living room with a floral-patterned tray clutched carelessly in her hands. The carelessness became all the more evident as a lopsided teapot threatened to topple over.

"Reol, you're back? Come over here a moment."

I blinked, momentarily disoriented. Guests? Already? We'd literally just moved in yesterday. The boxes are still stacked high in the corner like an already unwelcome visitors. Is this some sort of neighborly welcome ritual I hadn't been briefed on?

I hesitantly followed her gaze towards the tray. A few doilies and matched teacups, and steam wisping from the teapot spout. My head spun. Who on earth could be visiting us at this ungodly hour? I'm in no mood right now to be showing my face to anyone!

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 from head to toe?"

"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 Abneys' are here for a visit. Go and introduce yourself to them first."

Groaning internally, I cast a pleading glance over her shoulder. And the living room revealed a scene straight out of a sitcom gone horribly wrong. Mrs. Abney, supposedly, a petite woman with a cloud of frizzy burnt coffee hair, occupied the oversized brown couch. Her gaze flicked from me to my mom, confused from our conversation. She shined a quick smile our way. Beside her, a girl – a definite girl, with a long braid and what looked suspiciously like a pink diary clutched in her hand – stared at me with undisguised curiosity.

Panic seized me. A girl. Exactly what I feared right now. Run! Now! "But Mom, can't I at least change?" I mumbled, hoping against despair. There's no way I was meeting them like that. Not looking like this walking disaster zone.

The urge to bolt back to my room morphed into a physical ache in my legs. Mom's grip on my arm, however, held firm, and I found myself shuffling into the living room under her watchful eye.  As soon as I stepped in, Mrs. Abney's eyes fixed on me, but it was the girl beside her who held my attention. She had a long, thick braid that cascaded down her back, and in her lap, a bright pink diary that seemed to scream, "Look at me, but don't touch!" Her eyes, though, were a different story. Wide and steadfast right infront of her.

"Goodness gracious, Reol," Mrs. Abney exclaimed, her voice laced with concern, "what happened to you?"

Mom, however, seemed less surprised, more resigned. "Don't even ask, Mrs. Abney. He has a knack for finding trouble wherever he goes."

Before I could defend myself, the frustration bubbled up. "But Mom, it wasn't my—"

"Enough with the excuses," she cut me off with her clipped hush. "Just tell us what happened!"

I sighed, understanding that I couldn't dodge her questions, and my eyes darted toward our guests. I felt uncomfortable under all those eyes. The pressure of their curiosity was starting to feel suffocating.

Just then, Mrs. Abney chimed back in. "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. The scratchy fabric of the couch felt like sandpaper against my skin. For the longest time, I had despised being put on display, especially in front of guests. My haven... my room... it felt miles away. 

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's really challenging. Plus, there's a girl right beside me. Her gaze remained lowered, just as after I entered the living room, which provided a small sense of comfort, though not quite enough. Maybe she's just quietly laughing at the sorry sight I presented. Who knew?

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."

Perfect. Just perfect. As if things couldn't get any worse, school had to enter the conversation. And she goes to the same school too! Even same grade! 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 stole a quick peek, then whipped my head away, a blush creeping up my neck. She was... cu... ah... I mean pretty. Like, really pretty. There was a quiet grace about her that made me feel even more out of place. Here I stood, a walking mudslide with battle scars for clothes, and there she was, a vision in perfect composure.

How had this new beginning gone so spectacularly wrong? Two days in and I am already on the verge of a meltdown. This isn't the fresh start I'd envisioned. A heavy sigh escaped my lips. My mind was drowing in a thick hush of fog. Is my life literally a synonym for unlucky?

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. A shiver ran down my spine. Maybe this awkward introduction is just the beginning of a rocky road ahead.

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 than the last. And when I'd finally found the right one, I kept on playing it in my mind on repeat, until I had it perfectly memorized. 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, the anxiety within me ran like tremors of earthquakes.Each classroom door I passed seemed to hold a world of its own – a world that felt strangely familiar to the others, yet completely out of reach for me. An outsider peering into a life he wasn't a part of. 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. Here it is, the gateway to my new beginning, and yet, I felt like an intruder, every nerve ending screaming at the unknown faces that awaited me on the other side.

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 city school, 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.