CSI Texas

Chapter Twelve

Principal King gave a warm, motherly smile as she rose from her chair and walked around the desk to gently usher Samantha toward the office door. “Your mom will head back to the car and wait there for about half an hour while I arrange for someone to show you around the school,” she said, her hand resting lightly on Samantha’s shoulder. She glanced toward her assistant just outside the glass-paneled door and gave a small nod.
Samantha nodded silently, clutching the strap of her backpack with both hands. Her fingers worked at the fabric, a quiet reflection of her nerves. Behind her, Victoria leaned in to kiss her daughter's cheek, smoothing down a stray wisp of hair that had come loose from Samantha’s ponytail.
“You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just keep being yourself,” she whispered, brushing her daughter’s shoulder gently before stepping out into the hallway with a reassuring smile.
The door clicked shut behind her just as footsteps approached from around the corner. Samantha turned —and froze.
A tall, athletic guy with a tousled mop of golden-blond hair strolled casually into the room, his presence so easy and confident it seemed almost effortless. He wore a dark hoodie over a white T-shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and a pair of well-worn sneakers that squeaked faintly against the polished floor. His eyes — startlingly blue — met hers with directness, and something about the way he looked at her made her breath catch.
“This is Dylan Thompson,” Principal King said with an approving smile. “Dylan, meet Samantha. She just enrolled yesterday and will begin classes tomorrow. Would you mind showing her around the school? The swimming section, the gym and pool, and the design room, in particular — she has an interest in those areas.”
Dylan gave a respectful nod, standing straight. “Of course, Headmistress.” He turned to Samantha with a grin that didn’t feel rehearsed. “Ready? Follow me.”
Samantha cleared her throat, nodding as she fell into step beside him. Her sneakers whispered over the tile floor as they exited the office into the bustling hallway beyond. Students passed by in loose groups, their chatter and laughter bouncing off the walls. Lockers slammed, and the distant sound of a whistle echoed from somewhere deeper in the building.
“So, you swim?” Dylan asked casually, his hands in his pockets as he walked a few steps ahead, slowing just enough for her to keep up.
“I do,” Samantha replied, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “Been swimming since I was little. I heard the team here is pretty good.”
“Yeah, I’m in the men’s swimming section myself,” he said with a shrug, shooting her a sideways glance. “Sometimes our practices overlap — maybe you’ll catch one of ours.”
Samantha tried to suppress a smile, her heart skipping slightly. “That’d be nice. Honestly, I don’t know anyone here yet… it’s a lot.”
“Totally get it,” Dylan said, his voice sincere. “New schools can be brutal at first. But this place grows on you.” He stopped at a junction in the hallway and turned to her. “You have your schedule?”
Samantha fumbled briefly in her bag, pulling out a neatly folded paper and handing it to him. As he scanned it, she relaxed slightly. Something about his easygoing nature made her feel… seen.
“Thanks. I know it’s probably silly, but I’d really appreciate any tips,” she said, hugging her arms around her notebook now tucked to her chest. “I want to start off strong.”
“Not silly at all,” Dylan replied, folding the paper back and handing it to her. “You’ll be fine. You’ve got the right attitude.”
They continued down the hall, Samantha’s gaze flicking from classroom doors to colorful banners overhead, advertising everything from the Spring Fair to auditions for the school play. She adjusted the sleeves of her zip-up jacket, pulling them over her palms as they approached a glass-walled building on the other side of a double set of doors.
“Here we are — the pool and training area,” Dylan said, gesturing ahead. “This is kind of the hub. Everything branches out from here, so once you get used to this space, the whole layout gets easier.”
Samantha stepped forward, her breath catching at the sight. Inside, rows of lanes sparkled under ceiling lights, the crystal-clear water rippling faintly from someone finishing laps at the far end. The air smelled faintly of chlorine, mixed with the sharp scent of fresh tile cleaner and the distant echo of a coach calling out drills. “This is… incredible,” she breathed, walking closer to the glass. Her fingers lightly touched the metal frame as she gazed in awe at the immaculate setup — the starting blocks, the diving board, even the high-tech digital timing screen.
Dylan studied her expression, noticing the spark in her eyes. He couldn’t help but smile. “You really love it, huh?”
“I do,” she said, her voice clear and proud. “It’s the one place I feel completely like myself.”
He nodded slowly, impressed. “I get that. It’s not just about the laps — it’s about getting in that zone.”
Samantha looked up at him, a quiet smile blooming on her face.
“The girls’ locker rooms are on the left,” he said, pointing down the corridor, “boys’ are on the right. The PE room is just past that — you want to check it out?”
“Yes, please,” she said, falling into step beside him again.
They pushed through a wide door that opened onto a semi-enclosed courtyard. Samantha blinked as sunlight bathed her face. Before her, two enormous courts stretched out in perfect symmetry — one for basketball, the other for volleyball. Students milled about near the edges, practicing serves or chasing loose balls. Beyond them, a crimson running track curled around the perimeter, bordered by bleachers and a small outdoor gym area.
“This place is huge,” she said, eyes wide.
Dylan chuckled. “Takes a while to get used to. But it’s kind of awesome once you settle in. You play volleyball?”
“A little,” she said, imagining herself diving for a ball, laughter in her throat, the sting of the court on her knees. “I like it, but water’s still my favorite.”
He nodded, thoughtful. “The principal mentioned the design room too. Is that a big thing for you?”
At the mention of it, Samantha’s expression softened into something more intimate. “Yeah… I sketch. Clothes, mostly. Sometimes rooms. I haven’t shown anyone, though. It’s just… something I dream about.”
Dylan glanced over at her, his brow raised slightly, but his tone stayed warm. “That’s really cool. Most people here are just trying to figure out what they like. You already know — that’s something.”
Samantha looked down, embarrassed but grateful. “Thanks. I’ve always kept it to myself.”
“You should share it. Seriously,” he said with quiet conviction. “You’re different — in a good way. You’ve got direction. That’s rare.”
Samantha’s cheeks flushed. For a moment, she looked at him not as the cool, good-looking guy she’d met just minutes ago, but as someone unexpectedly kind. Someone who noticed things.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “That means a lot.”
“Anytime,” Dylan replied, his smile easy but sincere. “You’re gonna do great here, Samantha.”
His words settled between them as they walked toward the design wing, the hallway stretching ahead, warm with possibility.