She and her mother arrived in this small, sleepy town, nestled in the heart of nowhere, seeking a fresh start, a new chapter in their lives. Her mother held onto a feeling of optimism. Anya, however, remained indifferent to their new surroundings. She expected these rapid actions. Her mother offered the same explanation: a search for better work, for richer experiences. Such had been the transient rhythm of Anya’s life for the past decade.
Their one-bedroom apartment was on the outskirts of town in a building that had seen better days. Her mother’s humble housing, though limited, proved better than none. While unpacking her meager belongings, Anya’s thoughts traveled to her mother’s optimism, knowing it was just a farce. Their nomad lifestyle was due to Anya being a beacon. For reasons unknown, Anya’s presence would call others towards her. This increased as she aged. Some occurrences were positive in nature, those that became her friends had become such, while most were not. A negative brief encounter from their previous existence in Seattle had caused an earlier than anticipated move. Her mother would call it a fresh new start but Anya knew better. Her mother was making sacrifices so that Anya could be protected. These thoughts had Anya dreading tomorrow's activity. The name of her new school stared at her upon crumbled paper, a silent new start again, to a new school life. How long this one would last, she was not sure.
The next day, the sterile scent of polished linoleum and old textbooks filled Anya’s nostrils as she walked through the halls of Northwood High. The second semester of her junior year had just begun, a milestone that, for most, marked the beginning of college planning and newfound independence. For Anya, it was just another countdown. She expected to stay here until the first semester of her senior year concluded, then, as was their custom, Anya and her mother would pack up their lives and move away, leaving behind another half-formed set of friendships and half-realized dreams. All Anya desired was to finish school, maybe secure a steady job somewhere, in the fervent hope of providing her mother with the stability they both craved, and put an end to their endless, nomadic existence.
“Here’s your schedule.” Her counselor, a kind-faced woman, handed Anya a crisp paper detailing her courses. “There is someone waiting for you in the front to take you around.”
At the front of the bustling office, her eyes landed on a guy with short, tousled black hair that fell across his forehead. His light green eyes, framed by dark lashes, held a friendly glint. He was short in stature, and his clothing choices—a band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and chunky combat boots — hinted at a semi-goth aesthetic he embraced.
“Hiya! You must be Anya Springfield.” A warm smile spread across his face as he extended his hand. “I’m Felix Blackwood, a junior too.”
“Hey,” she replied. “You’re a junior?” He looked so young, almost like an elementary school kid who’d stumbled into the wrong building.
“I get that a lot around here.” He chuckled, an airy sound. A wider grin stretched across his face, revealing a dimple in one cheek. “Believe it or not, I’m seventeen, going to be eighteen this summer. How old are you?”
“Seventeen,” she said.
As they exited the office and entered the busy hallway, a stream of students flowed around them.
“It must be hard transferring during your junior year.” Felix noted with a hint of genuine empathy in his voice. “But that’s okay! It happens. Who do you got?” She handed him her crumpled schedule, and his eyes scanned the page. “Wow! Honors English, Calculus? You’re pretty smart! Oh, you’ve got Government 101 with me! That’s great!”
“More like a nerd with too much time on her hands.” Anya muttered, her gaze drifting to the lockers lining the hall. He gave her a quizzical look, his eyebrows raised. “Nothing,” she added, shaking her head.
He took her under his wing, showing her around the labyrinthine school, pointing out the best places to grab lunch and the hidden stairwells to avoid the crowds. Felix turned out to be a nice guy, his easygoing humor putting her at ease. He even cracked jokes with her as they headed to their first class, their laughter echoing in the crowded hallway.
“Don’t worry about Mr. Evens. He’s pretty cool,” Felix whispered as they reached a classroom door. He gave a soft knock before pushing it open. Several pairs of curious eyes turned to them as they stepped inside.
“A new student.” Mr. Evens, a man in his late thirties with a trimmed beard, stared Anya down through his thin-rimmed glasses, a thoughtful expression on his face. He checked her schedule, confirming her identity. “Anya, is it? Welcome to class.”
“I’ll help her out,” Felix announced, stepping forward with a confident air. Mr. Evens nodded, a faint smile touching his lips.
“Thank you, Felix.”
Classes, as always, were boring. Anya drowned out the droning voices of teachers, her mind elsewhere, drifting from the tumultuous events that had brought her here. The sterile classrooms morphed into images of her old home in Seattle, with its charming white picket fence and manicured yard, each room of the school transforming into a familiar space from that beloved house. It had been the best place they moved to, yet because of her odd magnetism, moving was required. Memories of straw colored hair and hard brown eyes filled her.
Freak, nerd! The words filled her mind along with the sound of laughter.
“Hello?” Blinking, the ethereal images of her old home faded, replaced by the harsh fluorescent lighting and the clatter of the bustling cafeteria. A guy with blonde hair and concerned blue eyes stared at her. Unlike Felix, who favored torn jeans and rock band shirts, this guy wore a simple, well-ironed button-up shirt in muted blue and comfortable-looking jeans, his long hair tied at the nape of his neck, a few stray strands escaping to frame his face. The unforgiving school lighting caused his thin-rimmed glasses to glint, which magnified his blue eyes, the color of a summer sky, and this made him appear intellectual.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and laced with genuine concern, the emotion dripping from each syllable.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine, sorry.” She mumbled. She noticed him sitting down in the empty chair in front of her, his movements smooth and unhurried.
“You were sitting here all alone, staring into space. Are you new?” He asked, and she nodded, feeling a little less self-conscious under his kind gaze.
“I’m Galen Blackwood.” He extended a hand, his fingers long and slender.
“Anya Springfield.” She reciprocated, her voice a little steadier now as she shook his hand. His grip was firm but gentle.
“Oh, you’re the new student in Felix’s class.” Galen’s smile widened. “Welcome! How are you liking everything so far?”
“It’s okay.” Anya shrugged, a sigh escaping her lips. “I’m not used to the slow pace of life here, but it’s nice, I guess.” She still missed the constant thrum of the city, the endless possibilities.
“Ah, a city girl.” Galen chuckled, a warm, melodic sound. “Well, sometimes a slow life is what’s needed, a chance to breathe. There isn’t much that goes on around here, true. Sure, there are a few local festivals and quirky events throughout the year, and the annual harvest fair is always a blast, but most of the time it’s peaceful. Serene, even.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Anya said. The quiet was still a jarring contrast to the constant hum of her old life, but she supposed she could learn to appreciate it.