Two lives.

14. Nicknames & Inside jokes

As the game ended, the gym buzzed with the noise of students streaming out, scattering in all directions. Some headed towards the track, while others disappeared down the hallways, laughing and shouting as they went.

"Let's go walk the track; I don't want to just sit in the lounge again," Andi said, stretching and rolling her shoulders. She had joined us halfway through the game and seemed more energized than ever.

"Yeah, can we? It's stuffy as hell in here," Lucifer muttered, pulling himself up from the bleachers with a yawn.

Everyone else began to stand and shuffle towards the doors that led outside. I stayed on the bleachers, not sure if they meant for me to come along or if this was just their usual thing. As I watched them move away, Caylus glanced back, catching my hesitation. He stopped, smiling warmly, and waved me over.

"Hey, don't be a stranger—come on," he called, making me feel seen in a way that was both comforting and unfamiliar.

I stood, quickly making my way over to join them. As we filed out into the cool evening air, Caylus fell into step beside me.

"You know you're one of us, right?" he said, his tone casual but his words landing deeper than I expected.

I looked at him, surprised, but before I could respond, he added, "Even if you like it or not." He flashed me a grin, nudging my shoulder. "I know how hard it is to fit in to group that seems so different from you, but we're all the same." He said smiling at me. 

His words echoed in my mind as we reached the track, where the fresh air hit my face, clearing away the lingering stuffiness from the gym. The lights around the track cast a soft glow, creating long shadows as students wandered, chatted, or just sat on the grass. I was surprised at how natural it felt being here, being part of something.

We strolled around the track together, our laughter mingling with the cool night air. It was easy, effortless—the kind of laughter that left you feeling lighter with every step. Every few minutes, someone would tell an inside joke, and they never left me out.

When the topic of Colby's nickname came up, Ophelia leaned in, grinning. "So, we call Colby 'Snarks' because of the one-in-a-million chance he'll give you a snarky response," she explained, nudging him playfully. "It's like his trademark. You've got to catch him on the right day, though."

Colby gave a subtle roll of his eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Lucifer chimed in, laughing. "Oh yeah, first time I ever heard Colby talk is when he called me 'genius' when I tried to microwave ramen without water." Lucifer smiled and some others giggled at the thought.

I laughed, finding it easy to imagine quiet, reserved Colby delivering a cutting remark with perfect timing. It was the kind of nickname that carried weight in a group—earned through moments that everyone remembered and laughed about together.

As the night wore on, I felt myself relaxing more, sinking into the rhythm of their stories and laughter. There was something undeniably comforting about it all. These weren't just people who tolerated each other; they were friends in the truest sense.

I caught Caylus's eye, and he gave me a knowing smile, as if he could read the gratitude I felt but wasn't ready to say out loud. "See? It's like I said—you're one of us now, Sienna. No getting rid of us," he teased.

"Whatever," I waved him off with a fake eye roll. 

"Do you guys remember when Skin tried to pants me and ended up with two weeks' worth of detention?" Caylus burst out laughing, shaking his head at the memory.

"Why do you all call him Skin?" I asked, genuinely curious. I'd heard people talk about him in the hallways and at lunch, but I hadn't actually seen him yet. Everyone seemed to have wild stories about how "scary" he was, but no one ever explained the nickname.

Caylus stopped dead in his tracks, turning to look at me with wide eyes. "Wait—you haven't seen him yet?" he asked, as if I'd been living under a rock.

"No, why?" I replied, glancing around, confused.

"Oh my god," Ophelia chimed in, covering her mouth in mock disbelief but clearly amused. "You seriously have to meet him. This is too good," she said, gesturing for everyone to follow her as she led the way toward the basketball courts.

We made our way over, and I could see a small group of guys, their voices and laughter echoing off the court. Some of them were messing around with the basketball, tossing it in playful games while others leaned against the fence.

As we approached, I noticed a small crowd of guys, all mid-laugh, tossing a basketball around or hanging back on the court. Some of them were leaning against the fence, their voices loud and casual. Caylus pointed to one of them, a tall, lanky guy with bleach-blond hair, scars trailing down his neck and arms, and an intense expression.

"That's Skin," Caylus said, grinning.

I stared. His nickname made instant sense. His skin was pale, almost translucent under the bright court lights, covered in scars that told a hundred stories I'd probably never know. But what drew my eyes was the large hole in his cheek, patched with a piece of silicone, smooth and slightly darker than the rest of his skin. It gave his face a haunted look, like he'd been through something that left a mark no one could miss. He noticed us walking up and raised an eyebrow, flashing a crooked smile.

"Yo, Caylus!" he called out, nodding toward us. "What's up?"

"Skin! Got someone who's got to meet you," Caylus replied, giving him a friendly shove.

Skin's eyes landed on me, and he sized me up for a second. "Oh, you must be the new girl," he said, his tone casual but interested. "I'm Skin. Yeah, the nickname's literal," he said with a smirk, gesturing to his pale scar covered arms.

I laughed, unable to help it. "I can see that. Nice to finally meet you."

"Likewise," he said, tilting his head as he looked at Caylus. "So, you bringing her around to corrupt her already?"

"Nah, she's too pure for you," Ophelia cut in, nudging him.

Skin just shrugged, flashing that mischievous grin again. "Give it time," he said with a wink, earning a chorus of laughs from everyone.

Ophelia rolled her eyes but smiled, nudging me. "See? He's crazy, but he's our kind of crazy."

As the conversation drifted into more jokes and stories, I caught myself smiling, feeling like I was slowly becoming part of this oddball group. Watching them all interact, teasing and shoving each other, I realized they shared a kind of loyalty that only came from living on the edge of "normal." And for the first time, I felt like I belonged with people who didn't try to hide their scars, literal or otherwise.