The town itself, nestled amidst the rolling hills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, felt like a forgotten corner of the world.The houses were scattered, each with a sprawling lawn and approach that seemed to whisper of simpler times. Jah found himself longing for the familiar clamor of city life, the constant hum of traffic and the anonymity of a crowded sidewalk.
As they walked towards the school, Sarah gently squeezed his hand. "It's going to be okay, Jah," she said, her voice tinged with a weariness that mirrored his own. "
Jah's heart remained unconvinced. He'd always been an outsider, He'd felt like an anomaly in the concrete jungle, a misfit in a world that seemed to have no room for him. Now, in this remote town, he felt even more out of place.
They reached the school's entrance, and Sarah stopped, her eyes scanning the faces of students filtering in and out. "I'm going to talk to the guidance counselor," she said, her voice firming.
"You find the office, get your schedule, and find your locker. I'll be back as soon as I can." Jah nodded silently, already feeling the familiar wave of loneliness wash over him. As his mother turned towards the office, he felt an urge to run, to disappear into the vastness of the surrounding countryside. But he held himself back, reminding himself that he had nowhere else to go.
He followed the throng of students towards the school's main entrance, his gaze skimming over the faces around him.They all seemed so confident, so effortlessly at ease in their own skin. Their laughter echoed through the hallways, a symphony of comfort and belonging that Jah envied.
He found the office, a cramped space with faded posters and a lingering scent of stale coffee. A woman with a tired smile and a name tag that read "Mrs. Jenkins" looked up from her computer. "Jah Oba," she said, her voice a gentle monotone. "Your schedule and locker combination are here. Any
questions?"
Jah shook his head, his throat too tight to speak. He picked up the crumpled papers, his fingers tracing the neatly printed schedule. It was a jumble of names and times, a map to a world he didn't yet understand.
He found his locker, a rusty metal box with a chipped paint job. He forced himself to stuff his textbooks and notebooks into it, movement feeling like a chore. The other
students seemed to have their lockers down to a Science , tossing their belongings in with practiced ease. Jah felt like a
clumsy outsider, his every movement a fumbling attempt to fit in
As he moved through the bustling hallways, his mind replayed the events of the past few weeks, the sting of his arrest, the cold, sterile walls of the detention center, the ache of his mother's tears.
He'd hoped that this move would be a fresh start, a chance to rebuild his life. But here, in this unfamiliar town, he couldn't escape the weight of his past.
He found his first class, a history class, and slipped into a seat near the back. The teacher, a man with a neatly trimmed beard and an air of quiet authority, began the lesson, his voice a soothing drone that lulled Jah into a state of detached observation.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the class, and students poured out of the room, their voices filling the hallway with a cacophony of chatter. Jah remained seated, his gaze fixed on the desk in front of him. He felt a deep longing for the comfort of his old school, for the familiar faces and the sense of camaraderie that had once been his sanctuary.
He stood up, the familiar weight of his past pulling him back in.The school's athletic field was a chaotic blend of activity and anticipation.
The football team was practicing, their cheers echoing through the crisp autumn air. A group of girls huddled on the sidelines, their laughter blending with the sharp crack of the baseball bat hitting the ball in the distance.
Rugby, however, seemed to be taking place in a secluded corner of the field, a group of young men going through their drills with a quiet intensity.Jah couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The rugby team
was notorious for their struggles, and their coach, Cody Wallace, was a ghost of his former glory. Wallace, a once- celebrated rugby star who had played for the national team
and won countless accolades, was now a shadow of his former self, consumed by alcoholism and haunted by
demons from his past. As Jah approached the rugby team's practice, he saw a man with a weathered face and tired eyes barking instructions at
the players. He had a stocky build, his body a testament to years of hard-hitting tackles and punishing training. He wore a worn rugby jersey, the faded colors a reminder of his past
triumphs, and his once-bright eyes now reflected the weariness of a man carrying the weight of his own failings.
"Jah Oba, right?" Wallace said, his voice hoarse and strained. He studied Jah with a penetrating gaze that seemed
to see through him, recognizing the troubled past that weighed heavily on the young man's shoulders. "You're the new kid. I've heard about you."
Jah felt a shiver run down his spine. There was a cold steel in Wallace's tone, a sense of unspoken judgment that hinted at the man's own battles.
"Yeah, that's me," Jah said, keeping his voice low, his gaze fixed on the ground.
"Well, welcome to Wolf Peak," Wallace said, his voice softening slightly. "We're a team in need of a fresh start, just like you.