Life Within The Halls

Chapter 1: "Day One"

LIFE WITHIN THE HALLS

Gideon

Monday, February 9th, 7:30 a.m.

Night after night, I heard the same desperate cry of the scholarship girl in my head: 'Gideon, please help me!' The memory of her at the Ship House during the school's night party scarred my dreams, making me relive the trauma over and over. And every time I woke up, guilt and regret weighed me down, a constant reminder of what went wrong two years ago.

I tried everything I enjoyed doing to get over the past—studying, gaming, coding—but somehow, my mind always wandered back. It was as if it had become a part of me, and there was no going back to my normal life. If only I had ever had one.

"Good morning!" our family driver greeted me, opening the backseat door from his seat. "Day one of the new semester, are you ready?"

I nodded silently and got in without a word. He knew very well he wouldn't get an answer from me, like always; yet, he still asked. He was just a driver and couldn't be of any help to me.

My circumstances, the school I attended, and the cars I rode in told a story about me. One I didn't need to elaborate on. But unlike other kids, I hated the attention that came with it.

Being part of a high-society circle didn't matter to me. What mattered most were my best friend, avoiding detention (which would upset my dad), and my grades (which also mattered to my dad). So, literally, everything about me revolved around my father.

The drive to school typically took thirty minutes, but road closures due to construction caused traffic on the streets. The usual shortcuts were blocked off, and alternate routes were jammed with cars. We crawled along, adding extra minutes to our commute.

At long last, we turned into the school's gateway and glided into the parking lot, where a row of cars was already lined up. I took in the familiar sights and sounds of the campus, feeling a sense of déjà vu. It was as if I'd never left—same old, same old. Even the freshly painted white walls gleaming brightly under the morning sun wasn't new to me; it was the same every first day of a new semester.

Stepping out of the car, I was welcomed by the sight of three flags fluttering in the breeze. That was the only noticeable change. Initially, only two flags had flown—the school's and the United States'—but now a third one commemorated the school's 30th anniversary.

I felt refreshed returning after the semester break as I walked through the main entrance. Finally, some time away from home. However, there was a downside—I'd be sharing classes with two people on my ignore list: the Class President and the social media star who annoyingly broadcasted his every move.

The hallways pulsed with excitement, everyone's joy at being back was unmistakable amidst the high-fives and lively chatter. I couldn't blame them; after all, most were rich kids with seemingly no cares, their biggest worries being who to date, what to wear, or who'd be AnonymousX's next target.

I strolled to my locker, swiped my card through the reader, and the metal door opened with a click. I organized my new notebooks and folders on the shelf and added fresh pens and pencils to my locker's pencil case.

With everything settled, I slammed the door shut and took the elevator to the third floor, avoiding the drama-filled staircase. The mere thought of hearing about breakups and hookups made my stomach churn. From the elevator, I made a beeline for my classroom, settling into my seat with relief.