Lost in Arcadia Chloe Price x Reader (Life is strange)

Part 1 First day (redux)

The day was gray and overcast, the kind of weather that seemed to wrap me up in my own thoughts and feelings. I pulled the hood of my jacket tighter, feeling the damp air seep through the fabric. Today was my first day at Blackwell Academy, and the buildings seemed more imposing than welcoming.

I walked up the stairs and past the fountain, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. Glancing around, I took in the scene. Groups of students clustered together, laughing and chatting as if they had known each other for years. I felt a pang of loneliness but quickly pushed it aside, determined to make the best of this new start.

Inside the main building, the hallways were buzzing with activity. Students rushed to and from classes, their voices blending into a cacophony of sound. I clutched my schedule, scanning it for the location of my first class. I was so engrossed in figuring out the layout of the school that I didn't notice someone walking towards me until it was too late.

"Oof!" I stumbled back as I collided with a girl. My books went flying, scattering across the floor.

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, dropping to my knees to help pick up the fallen items, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"It's fine," the girl said, brushing a strand of blue hair behind her ear. Her voice was calm, almost indifferent, but her eyes held a spark of curiosity. She raised an eyebrow, studying me for a moment. "New here, huh?"

"Yeah, first day," I admitted, reaching for the books the girl picked up. "I'm Y/N."

"Cool," the girl replied, standing up and adjusting her beanie. "I'm Chloe. Try not to get lost, Y/N. Blackwell can be a bit of a maze."

With a nod and a small, tentative smile, Chloe walked away, leaving me standing there, heart pounding a little faster than before. There was something about Chloe—her confidence, her nonchalance—that intrigued me. But there was no time to dwell on it now; I had to get to class.

The day started with homeroom, where the teacher, Mr. Jefferson, an amiable man with a passion for photography, introduced me to the class. I felt a dozen pairs of eyes on me, and I forced a smile, trying to appear more confident than I felt. Mr. Jefferson handed out an assignment to capture a "slice of life" photo, encouraging us to find beauty in the mundane. It sounded interesting, but I couldn't shake the nerves.

Math was next, and I struggled to keep up with the rapid-fire pace of Ms. Grant's algebra lesson. She was energetic and enthusiastic, but the formulas and equations swirled around in my mind like an indecipherable code. I jotted down notes, hoping they would make sense later. Across the room, a girl with glasses gave me a sympathetic smile, and I managed a small wave in return.

During history class, I found myself next to a boy named Warren. He had a kind face and an obvious love for all things science fiction. We bonded over a shared appreciation for old sci-fi movies, and he offered to show me around the campus after school. His friendliness was a welcome relief, and I felt a bit of the tension ease from my shoulders.

Lunch was a different challenge. The cafeteria was packed, and finding a place to sit was daunting. I ended up in a quiet corner, eating my sandwich and observing the different cliques. The jocks, the nerds, the artsy kids—it was like every teen movie stereotype brought to life.

The afternoon classes went by in a blur. Biology with Ms. Hoyt involved a lab experiment that I fumbled through, feeling clumsy and out of place. I accidentally spilled a beaker of water, earning a few giggles from nearby classmates. I laughed it off, but inside, I was cringing.

By the time the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, I felt a mix of relief and exhaustion. I gathered my things and headed towards the parking lot, eager to get home and decompress. But as I walked past the main entrance, I noticed a commotion outside.