Ch. 5 — First Day of School Disaster
1084 Words
Ruby’s morning began with a scream.
Not a dramatic one—more like a tired, muffled, “WHY ME?” into her pillow as her alarm blared for the third time.
Her head still throbbed from Kai’s party.
Her eyes felt like they were filled with sand.
Her mood was already terrible.
She forced herself out of bed, grabbed her backpack, and stumbled downstairs, hoping—praying—that the day wouldn’t be as bad as yesterday.
The universe heard her prayer.
And laughed.
Disaster 1: Missing the bus.
Ruby stepped outside just in time to see the yellow school bus roll past her house.
She froze on the sidewalk.
“No. No, no, no—WAIT!”
She sprinted after it, waving her arms like a drowning person reaching for a life ring.
The bus kept driving.
Ruby stopped running, panting. “I hate everything.”
She stood there, backpack sliding off her shoulder, hair flying in the morning wind, regretting every life choice that led to this exact moment.
Her mom had already left for work. She didn’t know the subway system yet. And walking to school would take—
Ruby checked her phone.
Forty minutes.
“Perfect,” she muttered. “Just perfect.”
She started walking fast, trying not to think about how sweaty and exhausted she’d be by the time she got there.
But the universe wasn’t finished.
Disaster 2: Coffee catastrophe.
Ruby stopped at a little corner café two blocks away from the school. She needed caffeine. She deserved caffeine. She earned caffeine.
She ordered a small iced coffee and stepped outside to take a sip.
The moment she tilted the cup toward her mouth, someone bumped—no, slammed—into her shoulder.
The coffee flew.
Right onto her shirt.
Cold. Sticky. Everywhere.
Ruby gasped. “Seriously?!”
A rushing businessman muttered, “Sorry,” without looking back.
Ruby stared down at her shirt, now decorated with a brown splatter that looked like abstract art gone wrong.
“This cannot be happening.”
She dug through her backpack for something—anything—to clean it with. A napkin. A scarf. A towel. A miracle.
All she found was a single, crumpled tissue.
Which disintegrated the moment she touched her shirt.
Ruby groaned. “Great. Amazing. Love this for me.”
Now she was going to school looking like she lost a fight with a coffee machine.
She had to keep going.
She had no choice.
Disaster 3: The late entrance.
By the time she reached school, her hair was frizzy from speed-walking, her shirt was a caffeinated mess, and she was sweating through her backpack straps.
She checked her schedule.
Room 214 — History.
She hurried down the hallway, searching for the room number. Her sneakers squeaked with every rushed step. She found the door—already closed.
She peeked through the small glass window.
The teacher was already lecturing.
The class was full.
Everyone was facing forward.
Everyone was quiet.
Ruby cringed. “No, no, no—please don’t make me go in there.”
But she had to.
She took a deep breath, turned the handle, and pushed the door open.
Every head turned.
Every. Single. One.
She froze in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights.
Her coffee-stained shirt felt ten times more visible. She tugged at the hem, regretting her entire existence.
The teacher paused mid-sentence and frowned.
“You must be the transfer student. Ruby Bennett?”
Ruby nodded, cheeks blazing. “Y-Yes. Sorry I’m late. I missed the—uh—traffic—bus.”
A few students snickered.
“Take a seat,” the teacher said without emotion.
Ruby scanned the room, searching for an empty desk.
There was one.
In the back row.
Next to someone she recognized instantly.
Kai Kingston.
Of course.
Kai sat casually in his seat, scrolling on his phone, looking like he owned the building. His hair was perfect. His clothes were perfect. His face was perfect.
Ruby’s coffee-stained self wanted to scream.
She walked toward the empty seat, praying—begging—that he’d at least acknowledge her existence.
He didn’t even look up.
She sat down stiffly, dropping her backpack as quietly as possible.
Kai continued scrolling on his phone.
Ruby glanced at him.
Nothing.
No smirk.
No eye contact.
No comment about her being late or looking like a walking frappuccino.
He didn’t even glance in her direction.
Ruby frowned. Was he ignoring her?
She shifted closer. “Um… hi.”
Kai kept scrolling.
Ruby blinked. Were her words invisible?
She whispered again. “Kai?”
He finally looked up—very slowly—and raised an eyebrow.
His face held no recognition.
None.
“Oh,” he said in a flat, uninterested tone. “You’re the new girl, right?”
Ruby stared. “The… new… what?”
He shrugged. “Saw you move in yesterday.” Then he turned away again. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”
Ruby felt her face burn—not from embarrassment this time, but from rage.
He knew exactly who she was.
They literally argued across their balconies hours ago.
He had called her princess.
She called him a spoiled brat.
THAT WHOLE DRAMA HAPPENED.
And now he was pretending they’d never met?
Ruby clenched her fists under the desk.
Unbelievable.
The class continued, but Ruby heard none of it. Her mind was stuck on one thought:
Is he seriously ignoring me?
At the end of the period, the teacher began collecting papers. Students gathered their things. Ruby shoved her notebook into her bag and glanced at Kai again.
He stood up, stretched lazily, and slid his hands into his pockets.
Ruby forced a calm voice. “So… we’re pretending we don’t know each other now?”
Kai turned slowly, his expression unreadable.
He studied her shirt—her coffee-stained, embarrassing shirt—and smirked faintly.
“Should I know you?”
Ruby’s mouth fell open.
“Are you—are you kidding me right now?”
Kai tapped his temple lightly. “Memory’s fuzzy today.”
“You’re unbelievable,” she snapped.
He leaned closer—just slightly—enough for her to feel his annoying confidence radiating off him.
“Relax, princess,” he whispered. “This is school. Not the balcony.”
Ruby’s heart rate spiked.
“So you DO remember.”
He winked.
And walked away.
Ruby stared after him, furious and speechless.
Welcome to New York.
Welcome to hell.
- Writer
