Southern Constellations

Being the new kid fucking sucked. There were too many stares, too many questions, too many moments when you were left all alone. I should've been used to it by now, considering that I'd already moved once before at the beginning of this year. Although to be honest, that made it worse. Because it meant that I had even less of a place to think of as my home, a place where I felt that I belonged. I truly didn't know where that was anymore; I didn't even know if I'd had that to begin with.

The last place I'd lived...well, that didn't qualify as a home at all. The trashed rooms, broken bottles, constant smoke; I didn't want to think about it. Because thinking about it meant that I had to remember what had happened that night, the last one before I'd left. It wasn't as if I didn't have nightmares about it already, and having to relive it when I was awake as well was more than I could handle.

The only good thing that had come out of this past year was meeting Vic-- good didn't even begin to cover it. Most of the time, he'd been he only thing that had kept me going. But now he was so far away, and I was here alone with only faded memories to keep me company.

And to be honest, they were shit to be around. All they did was make me miss him even more than already did, a dull ache that never went away. It was as if I'd left a part of me back in San Diego, and there was only part of me here wandering the halls of my new school. An empty shell, trying and failing to blend in with the clean-cut kids whose biggest problem was when their phone ran out of power. My aunt had a lot of money, something I'd never been used to and probably never would be. I felt completely out of place wearing a pair of brand new khakis and green polo, the school's mandatory uniform. I couldn't remember the last time I'd gotten new clothes before I'd moved here, and if I had they'd been from a donation bin.

Everyone in the hallway could probably tell that I wasn't from here, considering how I was ridiculously tan and it was the middle of the winter. That, and the fact that I looked absolutely lost and the school-year was already halfway over. I wandered aimlessly through the halls, trying to consult the poorly-drawn maps that were framed on the wall. You'd think that for a private school they'd be able to afford at least a decent map.

By the time I was able to decipher the small letters that were apparently the names of the classrooms, the bell had already rung. Of course, everybody here was too important to be concerned with anyone but themselves. I sighed as I hurried up the stairs, painfully aware of how alone I was. Things were different now. I'd been delusional to think that it'd end up like it had the last time, that I'd somehow bump into someone that'd change my life forever. Although as I rounded the corner, I couldn't help but wish that I would.

Fuck, where the hell was I going? The bell was going to ring any second, and I didn't want to start off with a bad reputation on only my first day of school. This was supposed to be a new start, that's what Dad had said. I couldn't disappoint him, not again. Not after what had happened with Mom.

Maybe the room was upstairs? It was worth a shot. I turned to go up them when I felt someone crash into me. I jumped backwards, my instincts honed from years of trying to dodge punches. I could hear my heart thudding in my ears, my brain in a frenzy as it shouted that I was about to get beat up again. I took a deep breath, attempting to remind myself that not everybody was out to get me.

"Hey, sorry about that."

I glanced up to see a shorter kid standing in front of me, looking somewhat disgruntled. He was wearing a hoodie and jeans, simple yet attractive.

"No problem," I muttered, blushing slightly.

He turned to leave, but shit, I still didn't know where I was going. He seemed nice enough; I didn't really want to bother him, but I couldn't think of another option that would still get me to class at a reasonable time. I cleared my throat, my face reddening even more as he spun around to look at me once again.

"I'm, uh, well this is kinda my first day here, and I'm, well, lost," I bit my lip, extremely self-conscious. "Could you, maybe, erm, help me?"

His look of confusion left me wondering whether I'd misjudged him when he suddenly smiled and agreed to help me. My heart fluttered as I handed him my schedule, shifting on my feet as I waited for him to read it. When he announced that I was in his class, I felt relief come crashing down on me. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad here after all. Now at least I knew someone; well, sort of knew-- he'd never actually introduced himself.

He walked over to the stairs that we were standing near, climbing up them as I followed close behind. Although I tried to avert my eyes, I couldn't help but noticed how hot his butt looked. Fuck, what was I thinking? I turned my head to look at the wall instead, although my face was burning.

When we reached the top of the stairs, he took a right and I sped up my pace so that I was next to him. Which wasn't hard, considering that he was on the shorter side. I didn't know what to say, and I wasn't sure what there even was to say. I didn't want the conversation to turn to anything personal; there wasn't much about my family that I cared to admit out loud.

"So, uh, how old are you?"

I was a little taken aback at the question, but I quickly replied as to not let us lapse back into awkward silence. "Fifteen."

I wasn't sure if that was the answer he'd wanted to hear, so I glanced away from him to look at the wall once again.

"Damn, you must be pretty smart then. Eleventh grade math, huh?"

I nodded, still not meeting his gaze. I knew that being a good student wasn't usually something that people were proud of; it practically labeled you as an outcast in most cases without you even having to do anything. But when you were constantly stuck at home and avoiding the constant fighting that went on outside the door to your room, books became your best friend. I remembered stockpiling them under my bed in my old apartment, and how I'd had to pick and choose the few to take with me when Dad had thrust a backpack into my hands and told me to pack up, we were leaving. Actually, it was the same backpack that I was wearing now.

I tugged on the strap of my backpack, the material faded from all the times it'd been thrown on the ground. My aunt had offered to buy me a new one, but this was one thing that I just couldn't part with. Sure, the seams were breaking and most of the zippers had fallen off. But it was a reminder of the past, something that Dad had given to me not to just take it away the very next day. It reminded me of where I'd been, where I'd come from. It set me apart from the horde of preppy kids that populated the school, their own book-bags surely right off the runway. Because that just wasn't who I was, and while I could pretend on the outside, there was no use lying to myself. I'd done that far too many times, and it had never worked out well for me in the end.

Now at the top of the stairs, I started down the hallway, reading the numbers on the plaques outside of the doors until I found the one that matched my schedule. Unlike at my previous school, these numbers were carved in metal rather than printed slips of paper.

After taking a moment to ready myself, I lightly knocked on the door. I heard footsteps approaching, and took a step back as the door slowly swung open. The teacher, an older man with glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, looked confused at first, but then understanding dawned on him.

"You must be Jaime," he said, clapping me on the shoulder.

I shuddered at his touch, desperately trying to suppress the memories that it triggered without making a scene. The teacher didn't seem to notice, leading me to the front of the room. I gulped, seeing all the eyes on me. Most of them were white with perfectly styled hair, and all of them were staring at me.

"Class, this is our new student, Jaime," the teacher said, and a few of them smiled, although most of them looked bored out of their minds.

"Go on and find a seat," he said, walking over to his desk to mark down the attendance.

I quickly glanced over the room, seeing that most of the seats were already filled. I spotted one in the back and hurried toward it so that at least not everybody would have an excuse to gawk at me. I slid into the desk, my mind flashing back to the last seat I'd been in. Class with Vic, before the incident had happened. Before Dad had found that picture online. Before he'd--

"You okay, kid?"

I snapped out of my trance, turning to look at the kid who I was sitting next to. He had light brown hair, long bangs covering his eyes. He looked sort of sloppy, if that was possible in the uniforms that everyone was required to wear here.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I hastily replied. I couldn't have anyone thinking something was up when it was only my first day.

He nodded slowly, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "I'm Alex."

"Jaime," I replied, giving him a small smile.

"Yeah, I heard," he said with a little smirk. "So where're you from?"

I paused, trying to figure out just how to answer that. Where was I from? Was it my first residence, the apartment where I'd had somewhat of a family? But I hadn't been there in what had felt like forever. Even though it hadn't been very long ago, I'd already started to forget what the place had looked like. All the little nuances that only someone who lives in a house knows about were drifting away, although it also meant that I didn't have to think about the awful things that I'd witnessed in those rooms.

"San Diego," I finally said, which Alex seemed to think was an acceptable answer.

Because even though the house itself had been miserable, I'd had a home in San Diego; and that home had been Vic.

Although if Vic had been my home, that just meant that now I was homeless once again.