Dylan arrived at school early to meet Nicole, who promised to help him find his classroom. The moment he stepped onto campus, he couldn't hide his amazement. For a public school, the place was massive—four sprawling buildings spread across the grounds, bigger than he had expected.
"This is... huge," Dylan muttered, his eyes roaming across the campus.
Nicole chuckled at his reaction. "Told you. This is the biggest public school around here. And it's not just the size—this place has a solid reputation for academics."
As they walked, Nicole began pointing out the departments. "The campus is divided into four. First, there's the Regular Department. That's where the typical public-school students are placed. It's all the way in the back, in the oldest building. Kind of isolated from the rest."
Dylan glanced at it from afar—faded walls, cracked paint, and a tired air that set it apart from the other, shinier buildings.
"Second, Music and Arts," Nicole continued. "Aside from the normal subjects, their focus is creativity—music, dance, theater, fashion. They're also the ones who usually organize school programs and events."
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She pointed to another building buzzing with lcolorful banners and students carrying instruments and art portfolios.
"Third, the Sports Department," she said, gesturing toward the gymnasium-style complex where students in training gear were jogging past. "That's where most of the athletes are."
"And last..." Nicole's tone shifted as her eyes flicked toward the sleekest building of all. "The Star Department. Step in there and you'd think you're in a private academy, not a public school. That's where the wealthy kids are. They're competitive in everything—sports, arts, academics. They basically dominate every field."
Dylan frowned. "So it's like... your department also reflects your social status?"
"Pretty much," Nicole admitted. "You can't just join wherever you want. There are entrance exams, screenings, even fees for events. If you're not qualified or can't afford it, you stay in your department. Think of it as a private school, but all under one name."
Dylan shook his head slowly, trying to absorb everything. "You sure this is public school? It looks bigger than my old campus."
Nicole smirked. "That's because your old school was exclusive for the rich. Here, you'll meet all kinds of people."
Dylan's brows knitted. "And you're really sure I won't have a problem with your dad about transferring here?"
Nicole didn't answer right away, a teasing glint in her eyes. Then she said, "By the way... I told Dad to place you in the Regular Department."
"What?!" Dylan stopped in his tracks, staring at her. "Out of all the choices, you put me there? At least the Sports Department would've made sense for me. The Regular Building looks like I wouldn't last a week there."
Nicole burst out laughing. "Didn't you say you didn't care what class you were in? Besides, even if Dad's the director of this school, we can't break the rules. If you want to move departments, you'll have to pass the exams—either when you enter as a freshman, or when they recruit from Regular. Usually, that happens during Foundation Day. So yeah, you still have a chance."
Dylan groaned. "Great. Foundation Day. Can't wait."
---
"Son, wake up. It's your first day of school today—you'll be late if you don't get moving. Nathan's been waiting outside for a while now."
Lucas's voice echoed into the small bedroom as he tapped lightly on the doorframe.
Flynn stirred under the thin blanket, eyes barely opening as he dragged himself upright, scratching the back of his messy hair. He had fallen asleep close to one in the morning, too used to his late-night routine after a long summer break. His body still begged him to collapse back into bed.
But when his eyes flicked to the old clock on the wall, his heart nearly stopped. 6:30.
"Dad, why didn't you wake me up earlier? I'm going to be late!" Flynn groaned, his brow furrowing as he glared halfheartedly at his father.
Lucas folded his arms, unimpressed. "I've been waking you up since half an hour ago. You even got mad at me when I shook you the first time."
Flynn's face fell. He rubbed his forehead, sighing at his own fault. "Right... fine."
Without another word, he stumbled to the bathroom.
The sound of rushing water and clattering footsteps filled the cramped house as Flynn took the quickest shower of his life. Minutes later, he dashed back into his room, tugging on his uniform in haste: a wrinkled white button-down, loose black slacks, and scuffed black shoes that had seen better days. He didn't even bother with his hair—his bangs fell unevenly over his forehead, damp and stubborn.
"Dad! I'll just eat at school!" Flynn yelled as he bolted out the door, bag slung over one shoulder.
The wooden gate creaked as he stepped into the street. There, leaning casually against the low, worn-down fence, was Nathan—already waiting, arms crossed, his face darker than the early morning clouds.
Flynn's lips curved into an awkward grin. "Nathan! Have you been waiting long? You shouldn't have. Now you're going to be late with me."
Nathan's expression hardened, his brows drawn so tightly together they could have taken flight like a hawk swooping for its prey.
"I told you the other day I'd come pick you up. We're in the same class now, remember?" His tone carried sharp irritation, his foot tapping against the dirt road.
Flynn blinked, confused. "Huh?"
Without warning—Smack!—Nathan's palm landed firmly on the back of Flynn's head.
"Don't tell me you forgot already. I literally called you that day!"
Flynn winced, his hand flying to rub the sore spot. The world tilted slightly as if Nathan's smack had rattled something loose inside his skull. Then, like a tape rewinding, memories of Nathan's call came flooding back. The muffled ringtone, the groggy voice he had answered with, Nathan's words barely making sense to his half-asleep brain.
Flynn let out a sheepish laugh. "Ah... right. Sorry. I wasn't fully awake when you called, so nothing really sank in." He hooked his bag onto his arm, avoiding Nathan's glare.
Nathan exhaled loudly, shaking his head. "Unbelievable. First day of school and you're already a mess." But the corner of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.
They started walking side by side down the narrow street, their steps in sync after years of routine.
Nathan had been Flynn's only close friend in their neighborhood since childhood. Every school year, every morning, they walked the same path together. Their school wasn't far—about a twenty-minute walk—but it always felt longer on mornings like this, when Flynn was sluggish and Nathan had to drag him along. Bus fare was out of the question anyway, and both boys were too used to saving every coin they could.
The morning air was cool, carrying the faint scent of damp soil and the steady hum of cars passing along the nearby road. It was the ordinary rhythm of a weekday morning, and Flynn tried to shake off the weight of sleep that still clung to him.
Nathan walked a step ahead, his bag bouncing against his side. "One of these days, I'm not waiting for you," he muttered again, more to himself than to Flynn.
Flynn smirked, not missing a beat. "Sure. And then you'll get bored walking alone."
"Keep talking. You'll walk alone tomorrow if you don't shut up."
Flynn chuckled but let the silence take over after that.
The school gate loomed ahead, the building's pale walls catching the first touch of sunlight. Students in crisp uniforms were already streaming inside, voices blending into a chaotic chorus of greetings and chatter.
Flynn and Nathan quickened their pace. By the time they reached their classroom, the clock in the hallway read 7:00 AM sharp.
From outside the door, they could already hear the lively noise of their classmates. The room was alive—bags thumped onto desks, laughter spilled in bursts, and chairs scraped against the floor.
Flynn pushed the door open, and a dozen pairs of eyes flicked toward them. For a moment, the two of them froze at the threshold.
"Wow, late on the first day?" a boy from the front row snickered.
"Not late. Just... almost," Nathan muttered under his breath as he nudged Flynn forward.
They slipped quickly inside, making their way past rows of filled desks. A couple of students whispered as they passed, others barely sparing them a glance, already too caught up in conversations with their seatmates.
Nathan didn't waste time—he headed straight toward an empty desk by the window.
Unfortunately, it was already paired with another student, leaving Flynn no seat beside him.
Flynn sighed under his breath. With no other option, his eyes scanned the rows until he spotted a vacant desk two rows from the back—the second to the last pair of seats. Both chairs were empty. He slid into the one closer to the aisle, dropping his bag on top of the desk with a soft thud.
Behind him, in the very last row, sat Dylan—leaning back in his chair, arms casually folded.
Trying to shut out the world, Flynn lowered his head and pressed his forehead against the cool surface of his desk. After all the rushing, the exhaustion was catching up to him fast.
But before silence could settle, a voice came from behind, calm and laced with mockery.
"First day of school—you're late, and now you're gonna sleep already?"
Flynn's brows furrowed. He lifted his head and turned halfway, shooting a glare over his shoulder.
"None of your fucking business," he muttered sharply. "Mind your own."
The words hung between them, sharp and heavy, while the rest of the classroom buzzed with chatter, unaware of the quiet tension brewing in the back rows.