(Samarra POV)
If I died in the parking lot of Carter High, I want it on record that it would not be from natural causes.
It would be from noise.
Engines idling. Car doors slamming. Laughter ricocheting off brick walls.
The sound hits all at once, like someone cranked the volume of the world up without warning.
I sit in the passenger seat, fingers clenched in the sleeves of my hoodie, counting my breaths.
"One more chance to back out," Derrick says mildly.
"No chance of that." I shoot back.
He gets out and opens my door for me. Always chivalrous.
"I can do it myself, you know," I say, already stepping out yet still appreciating the fact that he opens my door anyway.
"I know," he replies calmly, and then places his hand lightly at my back, guiding me forward.
Carter High smells like floor cleaner, wet shoes, ugh, wet dog. I almost instantly regret my decision as my brain has decides to catalogue every single sensory input at once. The buzz of fluorescent lights vibrates behind my eyes. Lockers slam like car backfiring. Someone laughs too loud and it bounces around my skull.
I grip the strap of my backpack and remind myself:
You wanted this.
I argued for weeks. I made charts. I used the phrase 'quality of life' like I knew what it meant. I fought for this tiny, fragile victory with everything I had.
So I am not allowed to fail in the first five minutes.
Derrick stands beside me at the front office counter, calm and immovable. Like the chaos is just weather—and he's waterproof.
"Enrollment for Samarra Hayden," he says evenly.
The secretary smiles too brightly, her eyes sparkling as she looks up at Derrick.
But her voice blurs at the edges. I catch pieces of it; name, grade, schedule, while my vision softens, colors bleeding together like watercolors left in the rain.
I blink hard. The thumbing in my chest turning to vibrating.
Not now.
Derrick's hand brushes my elbow. Casual. Grounding. A reminder that he's still here. That I'm still safe. That I haven't tipped over the edge yet.
"Locker's near the west hall," the secretary says, handing me a stack of papers I definitely did not fill out myself. "You're all set, Samarra."
All set.
I swallow. "See? Totally normal," I mutter.
Derrick's mouth twitches. "Thrillingly."
He walks me to the entrance of the main hallway. He probably shouldn't be back bere, parents aren't supposed to be, but no one stops him. No one ever really stops Derrick from doing anything.
"You okay?" he asks quietly.
"Define okay."
He studies my face a second too long. "Breathe through it. Slow and deliberate. I'm just a call away."
I nod, even though my heart is trying to climb out of my throat.
He ruffles my hair, his hand lingering there a beat longer than normal.
Then he leaves.
The noise rushes in to fill the space he occupied.
I make it exactly three steps before a human whirlwind slams into my side.
"Oh my god—hi—sorry—I wasn't looking—are you new?"
She's blonde. Smiling. Radiating energy like a portable sun. Cheer uniform. Perfect posture. Zero fear.
"Yes," I say cautiously. "That obvious?"
"Only because you look like you're about to vomit or run away. No judgment. First day is brutal." She sticks out her hand. "I'm Casey. Welcome to Carter High."
I shake it. Her grip is warm. Solid. Real. "Sam."
Her eyes flick over my shoulder, back down the hall where Derrick is still talking to the secretary.
Then back to me.
Then back to him.
"Oh," she says softly. "Wow."
I sigh. "Please don't."
"Too late," she grins. "Is that your dad? Brother? Boyfriend? Please say brother."
"Brother," I say quickly.
Her smile widens. "Lucky you. And me."
I have no idea how to respond to that, so I don't.
"Come on," Casey says, looping her arm through mine like we've known each other for years. "I'll give you the tour. Save you from wandering into the auto shop wing and accidentally joining a welding elective."
She talks the entire time.
"I like your look. Are you emo? Goth? Alternative?"
"What?" I ask, genuinely confused.
She gestures up and down at me. "Black hair, black hoodie, black jeans. You're even wearing cargo boots. Are you wearing colour contacts?"
"No. I—my eyes are naturally green."
"They are very unnaturally green," she says cheerfully. "I've never seen eyes that green before."
I immediately feel fifty percent more self-conscious.
She keeps talking, about classes, teachers, senior events, and committees she somehow runs all of. Her voice is fast but, mercifully, cheerful. It gives my brain something predictable to hold onto.
Then we turn the corner near the west hall, and I collide with an iron beam.
I stumble back, pulse spiking, senses screaming.
"Watch it," a low voice snaps.
I look up. Not an iron beam.
Dark hair. Sharp features. Expression too intense for a school hallway. He smells like smoke and something warm, sweet almost.
His gaze locks on mine.
And everything goes very, very still.
For half a second, the noise fades. The lights dim. My skin hums like it's been struck by a tuning fork.
His eyes widen just slightly.
Casey laughs nervously. "Sorry! She's new."
He doesn't look at her.
His eyes roam over my face, and something in my chest tightens painfully, like my ribs have forgotten how to expand.
His eyes narrow.
Then he leans down, slow and deliberate, until his face is close enough that I can smell the smoke clinging to his breath.
"Stay out of my way, little rat," he murmurs.
The words are soft.
The intent is not.
He straightens and shoves past me, shoulder clipping mine hard enough to make me stagger. Casey gasps as he passes between us, like a storm with a human outline.
And then he's gone, swallowed by the hallway, the noise rushing back in his wake.
I stand there, heart pounding, skin still buzzing like I've touched a live wire.
Casey lets out a breath. "Oh my god, I am so sorry."
I blink. "For…?"
"Him." She winces. "That was Jesse Carter."
"Is he always like that?" I ask, keeping my voice carefully neutral.
"Yes," she says, then pauses. "I mean, worse actually. You kind of got the polite version."
That's… comforting.
She lowers her voice conspiratorially as we start walking again. "His dad owns, like, half the town. Lumber, real estate, construction, probably the rain, honestly. The school's literally named after the Carters."
I glance up at the brick archway we're passing under.
CARTER HIGH SCHOOL.
"You're kidding."
"I wish." She grimaces. "He's basically school royalty. Untouchable. Teachers don't mess with him. Admin pretends not to notice when he skips or… intimidates people."
"So, he's rich and powerful," I deadpan.
"And tragically hot," Casey agrees immediately. "Which is honestly unfair. But also? Weird. And scary. Like 'might-have-a-body-count' scary."
My pulse hasn't slowed yet.
"He looked… angry," I say carefully.
Casey snorts. "That's just his default setting. Trust me, you do not want to be on Jesse Carter's radar."
I swallow.
Too late.
As we reach my locker, I can still feel the echo of his presence, like a bruise forming under my skin. My hands shake as I fumble with the combination.
"Hey," Casey says gently, noticing. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I lie. "Just… first-day jitters."
She smiles. "I've got you. Stick with me and you'll survive."
I nod, wondering how in fact I was going to survive this day.
---------------------------------------------------
Jesse p.o.v.
I'm irritated by seven-thirty. The hallway is too loud. Voices scrape against the inside of my skull, every laugh too sharp, every locker slam landing like a punch to my skull. The fluorescent lights hum in a pitch that makes my teeth ache.
People are fucking stupid.
They walk too slow. They stop in the middle of the hallway. They touch each other like time belongs to them. Like nothing is waiting beneath their skin to tear its way out.
My head is pounding. A low, relentless pressure, like something trying to force its way forward and being held back by bone and willpower alone.
I shove past someone who mutters an apology. I don't slow down.
I'm already on edge. I don't need this. I don't need anyone in my way.
Then something bumps into me.
Something small.
Light.
I look down, ready to snap, ready to remind whoever it is exactly where they stand in the food chain.
My head goes quiet. Not dull. Not numb.
Silent.
Like someone reached in and flipped a switch.
The pressure vanishes. The noise drains away. The lights dim. For half a second, the world makes sense.
She's staring up at me.
Big eyes. Bright green. Shock written all over her face like she didn't expect me to be real.
I've never seen eyes that colour before.
Not on anyone human.
My breath catches and I swallow hard. My hands start to shake, and I have no idea why. I clench them into fists, nails biting into my palms.
Then the smell hits me.
Coconut and something floral. Warm and soft and something that feels like home even though I don't believe in places like that.
It slides under my skin, wraps around something deep in my chest and tugs.
I want to lean closer. I want to breathe her in until there's nothing left of me that isn't filled with her.
The urge is so sudden it scares the hell out of me.
What the hell are you?
My head starts to throb again, not like before. Sharper, almost panicked. Confused. Like two instincts slamming into each other at full speed.
She's nothing.
She has to be.
Small. Thin. Dressed in black like she's trying to disappear. A nobody. The size of a large rat, standing in my way and looking like she's about to bolt.
But my body doesn't believe that.
My body knows something my mind doesn't.
I lean down before I can stop myself, invading her space, needing to see if the quiet holds.
It does.
"Stay out of my way, little rat," I murmur, low enough that only she can hear.
I straighten and shove past her harder than necessary, because if I don't put distance between us right now, I might do something I can't undo.
The noise crashes back in all at once.
Pain. Pressure. Chaos.
I welcome it.
My hands are still shaking when I reach the end of the hall.
I light a cigarette outside, even though I'm not supposed to, even though it doesn't help anymore. Smoke fills my lungs, and I press my forehead against the cold brick wall.
That shouldn't have happened.
She's just some stupid fucking new girl.
And yet, for the first time in years, the noise stopped.
Just for her.
I drag in another breath, trying to chase the scent that's already fading, and the thought comes unbidden and terrifyingly clear:
If she can quiet the war inside me
I need her.
And I don't care what it costs.