Karma

Chapter One - A New Beginning

The promising new start of my life began in a place most teens dreaded.

School.

Specifically, high school.

I walked through the halls of West-Wood on the first day of Junior year, unremarkable. Clothes off-brand, Walmart. Instantly, I'm disregarded by students, both old and new.

Just like I hoped to be.

Throwing my new ID into my side-bag, held over my shoulders by its lone strap, I took out a folded piece of paper from my trouser pocket.

Squinting at the sheet of paper the school had mailed me a few days earlier, I barely made out my locker number. Thankfully, the glasses didn't hinder my sight to a level that it would be an actual problem. All it did was blur, to a degree, my vision. All in all, a minor convenience. A mandatory accessory.

It was part of my cover. Demanded and punishable, if not heeded, by father.

A square-shaped optical device to hide my secret identity. Like the carefully maintained persona of the mild-mannered reporter from the Daily Planet, Clark Kent.

My eyes were on the gray tiled floor — a sign of timidity. An appropriate persona for me to choose. The timid ones were always forgotten, invisible to the average, and not so average, students of the school.

I hoped for it to stay that way, but I knew it was a futile endeavor. A lie never stayed hidden for long. One day, this persona of mine would be broken like a glass house, revealing the ugly that lay within.

Time flew as I passed what felt like endless rows of lockers, until I finally reached mine. Locker 1221.

Fitting, I supposed.

Sixteen... thirty-one... five. There was a click, and the mini-compartment door swung open.

Empty.

In it, I put some of the extra stationeries I had no use for, then I closed it. Resting my head against the metal, I shut my eyes to stop the surge of anger, resentment, disappointment — emotions that defined my current life — from pouring out. Sadly, the cool surface did nothing to help my situation, past or present.

I didn't like this, but it wasn't like I could drop out. The fall-out would be very terrible, and I wouldn't ruin my chance at a future in a fit of pettiness.

If you can't beat them, join them...

Exhaling softly, I turned to start looking for my first class, reaching into my bag to take out a notebook that I taped my class schedule on.

. . .

The first class of the day was biology, in room 212. It was located on the second floor, so I climbed up a flight of stairs and quickly found the room.

The handful of students who'd arrived early were sitting in pairs at tables arranged in long rows, upon which specimens carefully preserved in specially made containers and other biology-related instruments sat. A tall, strict-looking woman with thick-framed glasses and blonde frizzy hair flipped through papers at the front of the room.

I walked over to her and said, "Sorry to interrupt, ma. I'm Elan Oranye, a new student."

She peered at me over the top of her glasses, her countenance softening a bit as she did so. She shuffled her papers again at length, finally emerging with one, which she held a few inches from her face.

"Mr. Oranye. It seems apart from a little error, your transfer papers are all in order. Welcome to West-Wood."

I thanked her. Confused about the 'error' in question, I asked her to explain as respectfully as I could.