ᴏᴜᴛꜱɪᴅᴇ ɪɴꜰʟᴜᴇɴᴄᴇ

Chapter 4: The Worst Kind

Although the mattress of your bunk was a far cry from the comfort of your bed at home, you managed to get an adequate amount of sleep. The unfamiliar surroundings often jolted you awake, but knowing Mitch was nearby, even if in a different building, brought some solace. Additionally, you were glad the girls in your room were as delightful as they were - things could have been much worse! You were especially thankful that both Erin and Mitch shared your biology class. At least you wouldn't have to face the first lesson alone.

Erin guided you to the classroom: a secluded greenhouse west of the campus. The area was gifted with an array of various plants, each one merging perfectly into the vibrant environment. Long blades of grass tickled your ankles and folded under the weight of your feet as you trekked to the side of the cobble path (Erin hated the sensation of the undulating stone). A flurry of students walked in groups of varying numbers, acting like hive minds magnetised to the greenhouse.

"It's awesome you guys get to study in a greenhouse." You said, admiring the idea.

Erin shook her head, gaze vacantly watching the daisies sway in the gentle breeze. "In theory, it seems like a good idea but in practice it's torture. It gets super stuffy in there, it's even worse if you have hay fever too."

"Oh, yeah, that would make sense." You mulled over her words, swiftly agreeing. "Do you get hay fever?"

"No," hummed Erin, "but my friend Joey gets it really bad. Like, his eyes get really red and puffy and his nose gets so blocked he can't breathe at all. He's not allowed to go in there between March and August."

"That sounds horrible." Your voice slowed into a gentle mumbled as a familiar face marched into view. Diagonal from you, Mitch and two friends chuckled as banter bubbled between them. A wave of nostalgia washed over you as you recollected similar incidents from your childhood. "Oh, by the way, is it ok if I sit with you?"

"I wish you could but I spoke to Mr Millen yesterday about it and he told me that because the seats have already been allocated, you'll have to take a spare one next to someone else. I'm sorry." Erin spoke with genuine remorse, a sympathetic frown crinkling her features.

The narrow gate opened with a piercing shrill as the rusting metal scraped against the hinges. The greenhouse was tall and wide, encased by vines which swirled up the sides. The sun glinted upon the cloudy glass, tainted by a sheen of white which cloaked the surface. A brick red sign was embedded into the ground beside the entrance, an Ericson Academy logo plastered at the top, bold words reading 'Thomas and Alexander Smith Research Centre'. 

Upon entering, beds of varying herbs crowded the room, tiny signs naming each plant as you passed them. Following Erin, you headed for the classroom where the majority of students had gathered. Tables were dotted about the room, stools neatly tucked under to accommodate the height. Each table sat four students with one on each side. At the front was a wide blackboard with the title of today's lesson scrawled on the front with white chalk. Besides it slouched a middle-aged man with circular glasses and a gelled combover: the epitome of science nerd. "That's Mr Millen," informed Erin, "you should go ask him where you're sitting."

You quietly approached the man, smiling politely as his beady brown eyes met yours. "Hi, I'm new," you awkwardly began, "I was told to ask you where I'm sitting." Your tone was more questioning than assertive, inflecting up at the end as you tentatively spoke.

The man scampered over to his desk, rummaging through a dishevelled pile of crinkled seating charts. As he scoured the papers for your class, he checked, "(Y/N), yes?" His voice was nasally. You nodded with a hum. "I see," he grumbled, holding up your class's chart and dragging a pointed finger to an empty seat. He jabbed one and stated, "You're next to Jasper in the back corner." He shifted his finger off the paper to gesture to a stocky boy with a buzz cut.