Sanctuary

Alex realized as he pulled open the metal door and stepped into the massive gymnasium, that there was good news and bad news awaiting him.

The good news: the large group of boys gathered near the center of the gymnasium, just on top of the eagle emblem on the wood floor, came in many different shapes in sizes. Some had builds much similar to Alex's, while some looked like monster-human hybrids, and still others were… on the chubbier side.

The bad news was that every last one of them seemed to radiate douche bag.

Much to Alex's dismay, he caught a few eyes flicking in his direction; however, no one made any advance to talk to the poor boy. 'Alex, you're fifteen years old, you attended public school for four years, hell, you were born in /Britain/. Have a little backbone.' Despite his pep-talk, Alex still felt shaky in his knees and sick in his stomach, though his posture seemed to stiffen and he held his head a bit higher.

From a few yards away, a thin, but fit young man in a white tee-shirt and black basketball shorts wandered over with his arms crossed. He didn't seem menacing, but somewhat friendly. He wasn't much taller than Alex himself, with dark hair and a clear dot on his lower lip, a piece of plastic to keep open a lip piercing. If he weren't a teacher, Alex would probably want to be friends with this man.

"Are you in PE II?" the man asked in a somewhat casual manner, producing a clipboard and running his pen down whatever was attached. Alex was caught off guard by the question, and even more so by being approached in general, and therefore had to pause for a moment to think over his answer.

"Uh, yes, sir," he said, fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweatshirt in a nervous, absentminded way. The man continued searching for something on his clipboard, his eyebrows mushed together in thought.

"Alex Gaskarth," he said, figuring he was searching for his name on the roster.

"Ah. There you are." He placed a check on the sheet of paper. "Last year I taught PE I, and I don't recall your name. Did you have me?"

"No, sir, I'm new here."

A few more eyes turned to stare down the Brit at the sound of the word "new". 'Shit.'

"Really now? Where from?"

Alex shifted a bit on his feet.

"I-uh. I transferred from Towson."

The coach's eyebrows shot up and the corners of his mouth turned downward in an impressed facial expression. "Towson, you say? I actually graduated from there a few years ago. Why'd you transfer? You didn't like it?"

'No, I loved it, but my brother committed suicide and my parents thought I needed Jesus.'

"Yeah, I mean, it was great. It's just… it was my parents' idea. Plus I didn't really like the people there. They were kind of mean," Alex lied, fidgeting more now and hoping that his nervous shuffling wasn't giving away the truth.

"So you came here?" the teacher said with a sarcastic laugh, "I mean, no matter where you go there'll be people you like and people you don't like. In today's time, probably more people you won't like. But no matter how many sh… annoying people there are around you, there'll always be that one person that sticks out and becomes your best friend, pulls you through tough times, you know? Just keep that in mind. Anyway, I'm Coach Flyzik. I coach varsity basketball here. Welcome to St. Raphael, home of the biggest brats on this side of Maryland." He paused a moment, rolling his eyes before gesturing toward the group of boys. "Hey, Turman, come see!"

Without much of a forewarning, Coach had summoned a six-foot-something, sturdy redhead with an almost feline grin. The boy turned from his huddle of friends and jogged over, coming to a stop beside Alex, whom he had a few inches on. "Yeah, Coach?" the ginger asked, giving Alex a once-over before turning to face Mr. Flyzik.

"This is Alex, a transfer from Towson. Alex, this is Caleb Turman, one of my finest players." As if to emphasize his relationship with the athlete, Coach gave him a rough pat on the back. "Take care of this kid for me, okay?" Then the man left to break up a group of rowdy boys, leaving Alex alone with his new "friend."

'Great, just what I needed. A babysitter. Well, at least I kind of know someone now.'

The redhead's first mistake was draping a long, skinny arm around Alex's shoulders. While he wasn't one of those kids that barked and snapped at anyone who touched him, he barely knew this kid, and he didn't appreciate his over-enthusiasm as he pulled him forcefully back to his group of friends.

"Hey, guys, meet my new buddy, Alex. He's from Towson. You're a sophomore, right, little guy?"

Calling him "little guy" was the basketball star's second mistake. His third mistake was when Alex barely had time to get in a "yeah" and the male had already begun going on about the time he had scored the winning point against Towson when they went against one another in the playoffs. It was almost as if Alex didn't exist. He stood as only a bystander in their conversation, not a part of it. In fact, he was absolutely clueless about anything that the red-head was blabbering about.

After sitting around in the group for a bit, the coach soon announced that they wouldn't begin changing for another week, and while that meant that he'd eventually have to change around other people, it gave him some time to assimilate and grow comfortable with his surroundings. It gave him time to think of a way to hide his scarred up thighs, too.

Once he'd endured the longest fifty minutes of his life listening to Caleb go on endlessly about things he didn't know or care about, the rest of his morning classes went by fairly well.

Biology was filled with more snobs, but Alex had always had an interest in the subject, so he figured he would get over that quickly.

Religion was a bit strange for him. The class' full title was "Religion II: Understanding Scripture," and while he wasn't Catholic, or even the least bit religious, he had a little optimism that maybe he'd get a thing or two from this class.

Next came English, a class that Alex had always deemed the most useless. The teacher, however, came off much like Coach Flyzik, someone he'd befriend if it weren't for the age difference and the superiority. He was twenty-something and about Alex's height, though very fit, with shoulder length curls, vivid green eyes, a grin that could only mean he had braces at one point, and the outer edge of a tattoo poking from his long-sleeved coat.

By the time lunch rolled around, Alex was feeling indifferent about this new place. He had no friends, but he also didn't /want/ friends if his only options were those students he'd met so far. He was very different from everyone else in the fact that enjoyed punk music rather than contemporary pop and rap, he was more into music than he was into sports, he didn't really do drugs or drink very often, and he wasn't born into money. Also, having begun here sophomore year rather than freshman year like everyone else, he felt very left out, as if he'd just been forced into a massive group of kids who already knew each other and weren't willing to accept a new member.

If he really thought about it, though, he was okay with all of that. He didn't really mind being on his own. In fact, he actually preferred it. Having no friends made it much more difficult to have drama.

But as he entered the bustling lunch room, he began to feel otherwise. It was almost like the scene from Mean Girls, when the lead character walks into the cafeteria and begins looking from table to table, stereotype to stereotype. A huge majority of the tables were occupied by vicious looking boys and girls, but a few tables were occupied by teens playing with Pokemon cards, kids with "scene" haircuts (something he wasn't expecting here), and some tables had kids that looked as if they had tried every drug out there. None of the kids in this crowd looked like people he wanted to sit with.

'Am I going to end up eating alone in the bathroom?'

Alex watched everyone else carefully until he caught on to how he was supposed to get lunch. Before he knew it, he was reaching out to take a plate on which a slice of pizza sat. 'Oh, God. Okay. Alright, don't panic.' Too late, he was panicking. He could literally feel his heart racing and his breath quickening as he turned around and began searching for a place. For the umpteenth time that day, he imagined himself swimming in an ocean of people he didn't know, but he knew that they were staring him down and judging him hardcore. Even though in reality, no one looked his direction.

From the corner of his eye, he could see a set of glass doors, and just beyond them, he noticed a few kids sitting in a courtyard right outside the massive cafeteria. There were definitely far less people out there than in here, and immediately Alex fled to where he could be somewhat alone and not smothered by people.

Once he'd made it out into the crisp August air, he was still panicked over where to sit, but at least he didn't feel overwhelmed with watching eyes.

The courtyard was, like everything else in this school, gigantic, and was situated right in the center of the campus. The main building caused it to be mostly covered in shadow, but there were a few trees here and there along with a fountain, a statue of who he assumed was St. Raphael, and several stone benches and tables.

The boy was about to take a seat at an empty table when he heard his name being called from further down the yard.

"Gaskarth!"

The voice was so familiar. His head perked up, pointing in the direction of the voice. A few yards away, a boy with long, dark hair and a stocky build was waving him over to his table, which was occupied by himself and three of his friends.

As he moved closer, he recognized the kid as Rian Dawson, the drummer of a band that he had played with at a local festival back at the beginning of freshman year. Since then, the band that Alex was a part of had split. He was unsure whether or not Rian's band was still a thing.

"How's it going, dude? I haven't seen you in forever. What are you doing here?" Rian asked, flashing his way-too-perfect-for-someone-who-never-had-braces teeth in a heartfelt smile as Alex made his way to the table.

"My parents decided they wanted me in the private school system," the Brit said with a nonchalant shrug, "I think I was better off at Towson."

"I hear you. This place suuuucks. Way too many rules. Take a seat." He gestured toward an open spot beside him on the bench. "These are my friends, John and Brian, and this is my girlfriend, Cassadee."

The kids to which Rian gestured honestly didn't look like people that would befriend the drum line nerd (no offense to Rian, he was actually pretty awesome.) The John kid was definitely over six feet tall and looked rather thin, but still muscular. The Brian boy was a bit shorter than John, but tall just the same, with well-groomed dirty blonde hair and a smile that reminded him much of a donkey (again, no offense. He, too, looked pretty awesome.)

The girl… well, there were no words for the girl. She was stunning, flawless much like the majority of the girls here. Cassadee, however, didn't intimidate him quite like the other girls.

Though he'd had anxiety from the moment he left his house this morning, he felt a sense of relief for the next fifty minutes. He barely knew these kids, but as they ate lunch together, his anxiety was alleviated just a bit. In this moment, Rian was his wonderwall, and maybe things were only going to get better from here.