Cracked Facades: Beyond the shells

First Day at School

Alexis POV

The exhaustion was etched on my face as I woke up to a new day. The unfamiliar surroundings of Lydia’s guest room were a stark contrast to the comfort of my own bed. I rubbed my tired eyes, trying to shake off the lingering fatigue. The events of the previous day still weighed on my mind, leaving behind a quiet sense of unease.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I reached for the documents I’d brought from home. I’d gone through them repeatedly through the night, searching for meaning in the chaos. The words blurred together as I scanned the pages again, my mind drifting to the day ahead.

Forcing myself to focus, I got ready for school. I laid out the outfit I’d chosen the night before a simple white blouse and plaid skirt something that would help me blend in with the other students. I packed my backpack carefully, double-checking that I had everything I needed: pens, pencils, notebooks, and my phone.

As I zipped up my bag, a wave of nervousness crept in. I was about to start at a new school, pretending to be someone else, all while trying to navigate the tangled mess my life had become. I took a deep breath, willing my hands to stop trembling. I can do this, I told myself. I have to.

The aroma of breakfast led me downstairs. Lydia and Jessica were already in the kitchen, chatting and laughing softly. They both turned toward me as I entered, and Lydia smiled warmly.

“Good morning, Katherine. How are you feeling today?” she asked, handing me a plate of toast and scrambled eggs.

I smiled back, trying to appear more confident than I felt. “I’m fine, Aunty Lydia. Just a bit tired.”

Jessica grinned. “Don’t worry, Kat. We’ll get you settled in no time. And I’m sure you’ll love our school.”

I nodded, taking a small bite of toast. The nervousness lingered, but with Lydia and Jessica by my side, a flicker of hope began to grow. Maybe, just maybe this new life wouldn’t be so bad after all.

After breakfast, Lydia insisted on driving me to school. I protested at first but she brushed off my concern with a smile and jingled her car keys, " We have to play a role, remember, I'm your aunt and it's right I drop you and Jessica to school" she said.

“You’re family now, Katherine. Besides, it’s your first day. Let me do this,” she said, her tone gentle but firm.

The ride was quiet for the most part. Jessica sat in the back seat with me, scrolling through her phone, while Lydia hummed softly along with the radio. I stared out the window, watching the world blur past unfamiliar streets, unfamiliar faces. Everything felt foreign.

When we pulled into the school parking lot, my stomach tightened. The building was large and lively, filled with clusters of students chatting, laughing, taking photos. It all felt so ordinary and yet, for me, it was the start of something I couldn’t afford to mess up.

Jessica nudged my shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll introduce you to everyone. Just follow my lead.”

I nodded, gripping the strap of my backpack a little tighter. “Okay.”

As we walked through the main doors, a few heads turned our way. Whispers floated around some curious, some indifferent. Jessica greeted a few people effortlessly, her confidence filling the space around her.

“This is my cousin, Katherine Morgan,” she said to a group of girls standing by their lockers. “She just moved here, so be nice.”

They smiled politely and said their hellos, though I could feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air. I gave a small, practiced smile in return.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of introductions, schedules, and classroom directions. By lunchtime, I felt drained my mind juggling names and fake memories, trying to keep my story straight.

I sat at the edge of the cafeteria table while Jessica chatted animatedly with her friends. From the outside, it probably looked like I fit in. But inside, I felt like I was balancing on a fragile thread, one wrong move away from everything unraveling.

Then Jessica turned to me suddenly. “Kat, are you okay? You’ve barely touched your food.”

I blinked and forced a small smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.”

She studied me for a moment but didn’t press further. The conversation around us picked back up, laughter filling the air.

I looked down at my tray and exhaled quietly. Day one, I thought. One down, so many more to go.Little did I know, the day was far from being over.

The next class on my schedule was art a subject I didn’t even remember signing up for. My heart sank. I used to do art with my mum; it was our thing. I couldn’t imagine picking up a brush without her by my side.

How was I supposed to get through this?

Skipping wasn’t an option. David had been clear: no skipped classes, no unnecessary attention. So, with a deep breath, I gathered my things and headed to the art room.

The moment I stepped inside, I felt dozens of eyes turn toward me. I tried to ignore the weight of their stares and focused on finding an empty seat. Then my gaze lifted and froze.

Across the room sat a boy. Those hazel eyes caught mine, familiar and unfamiliar all at once. His black hair was as messy as ever, falling slightly over his forehead, making him look effortlessly and unfairly good.

And he was looking straight at me.

For a moment, the noise around me faded. The scrape of chairs, the low chatter, even the rustle of papers everything blurred into silence. I couldn’t tell if my heart had stopped or was beating too fast to notice.

I quickly looked away, pretending to check my schedule, but the image of his eyes lingered, sharp and unsettling.

Who is he? I wondered. And why does he feel so familiar?

“Katherine Morgan,” he called out.

“Yes!” I replied, maybe a little too loudly.

A few heads turned in my direction, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks.

“You joined late,” the teacher continued, scanning the room. “Everyone’s already paired up… oh, except one person.”

He looked toward the back of the class right where he was sitting.

“Brandon,” the teacher said with a knowing sigh. “Would you mind having our new student as your partner?”

Before Brandon could even respond, the teacher raised a hand. “Oh no, I already know what your answer would be. But I’m sorry, boy this isn’t the basketball court where you make decisions. She’ll be your partner.”

A few students chuckled quietly. I swallowed hard, my nerves tightening with every second.

The teacher turned to me next. “Well? Don’t just stand there, Miss Morgan. Go take the seat beside him.”

I nodded quickly, clutching my sketchbook and walking toward the back of the room. Every step felt heavier than it should have.

Brandon leaned back slightly in his chair as I approached, his hazel eyes still fixed on me

calm, unreadable, and far too distracting.

I took the empty seat beside him, trying to focus on anything but how close he was.

“Hi,” I said quietly, my voice barely audible.

He gave a small, knowing smile, and that was enough to make my heart skip again.

The silence between us stretched, filled only by the soft hum of conversation from the rest of the class. I could hear the faint scratch of pencils against paper, the shuffle of brushes being unpacked everything except the sound of my own voice.

I pretended to focus on my sketchbook, flipping it open to a blank page, but my mind was racing. I could feel his eyes on me.

“So,” he said finally, his tone calm, almost teasing. “Katherine Morgan, huh?”

I looked up, startled. “Yeah. That’s me.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying me. “You don’t sound too sure about that.”

I blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged and leaned back, twirling his pencil between his fingers. “Nothing. Just… you look like someone who’s not used to being the new kid.”

I forced a small smile. “Maybe I’m just a fast learner.”

He smirked, clearly unconvinced, then gestured toward the blank paper in front of me. “You any good at this?”

I hesitated. “I used to be,” I said softly.

“Used to?”

“My mum taught me,” I replied before I could stop myself. The words slipped out too easily, and for a second, I wished I could pull them back.

Brandon’s expression softened, the teasing fading into something gentler. “She must’ve been good, then.”

“She was,” I murmured.

The teacher clapped his hands from the front of the room, snapping us both back to the present. “Alright, everyone! Let’s get started. Pairs will begin sketching your partner remember, you’re drawing what you see, not what you think you see.”

Brandon’s eyes met mine again, and he raised a brow. “Guess that means I get to draw you.”

My pulse quickened. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

He grinned faintly. “No. But it’ll be interesting.”

I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped me, breaking the tension just a little.

For the first time that day, the weight on my chest felt lighter.