I look at myself in the mirror. The green school uniform felt wrong on me. As if at any moment someone was about to come up and take it away. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I can do this. Everything will be alright. I open my eyes and look at myself one more time. I smoothed my skirt again and left the house. 

My day was great until it wasn’t. 

“Salutations, greetings and welcome to another day at our wonderful class with our wonderfully skilled people. To add on to our amazing group we have a new writer, Kiara.” And that’s how I was introduced to my new journalism class by my teacher, Mr. Namin. 

Everyone turned to face me and smiled brightly and welcomed me to the class. I smiled back. What else could I do? That is until I realized there were several ways you could introduce yourself. The moment was quickly over and Mr. Namin set me up with one of the editors to go over the whole website and all other rules. 

The most interesting thing was what she said in the end, “The last thing we need is another Michael situation.” Normal circumstances I couldn’t care less about whatever happened, but I really wish I asked. It would have saved me a lot of trouble in the long run. 

Lyra, the editor, explains everything and goes back to her place. As soon as she leaves, the door flies open and a guy steps inside. He has black messy hair and a smirk on his face. He was wearing a black loose shirt saying ‘I live for action’ and ripped jeans. 

I could hear the girl whispering under her breath, “Here we go again.” 

I didn’t understand why she would say that until I did. Out of nowhere, I hear rock music playing, and this guy goes on his knees pretending to play an imaginary guitar. This performance continued for 2 more minutes. Then he got up and bowed. 

“Bravo! That was amazing, Michael!” applauded Mr. Namin. 

So you’re Michael. 

“Thank you Mr. Namin, at least someone here has appreciation for music and the greater arts.” he says, eying the rest of the pitch silent classroom. 

I see everyone rolling their eyes and giving him serious side eyes, then going back to their work. He continues to scan the room until his unwavering gaze lands on me. I don’t break it. He smiles as if somehow he’s actually pleased. He walks over, grabs a chair and sets it next to me. He flops down on it, stretching out his long legs . I go back to working on my article. I was going to write about the school’s upcoming football game tomorrow evening. Even though I wasn’t looking I could feel his cold gaze upon me. Out of nowhere he comes up to my ear and whispers. “Hi Kiara.” 

That was all it took for me to turn my head around and face him. I don’t know what my reaction was, but whatever expression I had, he liked it. He leaned back into his chair, pleased. 

“How do you know my name?” I asked.

“Why don’t you tell me how I know?” 

“What?” 

“Figure out how I know Kiara,”  he clarified, giving me a lopsided smile. 

I looked around. My name wasn’t on my laptop or my bag. My school ID was in my bag. I didn’t have a necklace that said my name.

“My shoes,” I realized. “You saw my name on my shoes.” 

Kings had a uniform but we could wear whatever shoes we wanted. I decorated my converse full of doodles including my name. 

I saw a small flicker of surprise through his eyes. Almost as if he didn’t expect me to get it. He grinned and bent forward, closing the space between his chair and mine. I can feel his breath hot on my ear, and he whispers, “Something tells me we’re gonna be good friends, Kiara.” If only I knew how much trouble he was going to be… I would have run the other way. His entrance was all it took for my crumpled life to be turned upside down.