Junior Year - Outcast Series

The Registration

Bastian's POV:

I stand here in a line that used to lead me to a gas chamber. Every year, I always got the gas. It would fill me and encompass me with warmth and security, but, in a matter seconds, it would choke the life out of me, decaying my insides until there would be nothing left but a rotted shell of a carcass.

I used to fight my mom to stay, wherever we were at time, but it would never happen. The gas would always kill me, even if I were given a gas mask towards the end of the year, it would be too late. Leaving at the end of the school year was always inevitable and is inevitable. I've stopped fighting.

So as the line moves forward as students at the front of it go through filling out the paperwork, paying their fees, getting the yearly bumper sticker, I can already smell the gas that junior year will inevitably bring.

Lucy's POV:

You know your life is sad and boring when you know all the full names of every school administrator and all their family. And as I walk in the registration line, I recall their names and their families in my mind to keep me occupied as I watch them help the same students, the same families that have been at this school since 9th grade.

But then I remember, Oh my gosh I have phone. Duh, Lucy. So I pull out my iPhone 5c and begin to scour Facebook. I shouldn't have. My feed is filled with the places that my Facebook "friends" went over their summer break.

One rising sophomore I knew had gone to France, visited the Louvre, and walked the fresh, bread-scented streets of Paris. She posted a picture of her holding the Eiffel Tower. One of the guys in my grade had gone waterskiing and scuba diving in the Dominican Republic. He had taken and underwater camera with him and taken pictures of him petting a sea turtle and pointing to exotic, Caribbean fish. And Scott Grayson, of all people, went to Italy and was pretending to be a gladiator, brandishing a fake, wooden sword and giving a playfully angry face as he posed in the Coliseum. In a way, I thought it was cute, but I immediately shook the thought, remembering freshman year.

The line moved and, as it did, I saw a new shade of brown, caramel hair that hadn't been there in the years before. There was a new guy at school this year! I got so excited until I looked back at my phone and realized that it was almost the same color as Scott Grayson's hair. I immediately made a small judgement that the new guy was probably a stuck-up jerk just like him. But I thought I should introduce myself anyway, in case we became friends. He wouldn't know about freshman year, so why not give it a shot?

I ask my dad to hold our place in line. He wouldn't be here if he didn't have to be an adult to register, but he held our place because he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

I walked over to the new guy and put my hand delicately on his shoulder. He was about 5' 10", so a little bit taller than me. He was wearing dark jeans and and a light blue heather zip-up hoodie with the sleeves rolled up just past his elbows. His eyes were as blue as the Caribbean Sea on a moonlit night. His tangly hair smelled of fresh baguettes and his build was even and clean.

I almost couldn't speak. I retracted my hand quickly to my side as he turned to look at who had put their hand on his shoulder. "I'm Lucy. Lucy Miller. I'm a rising junior at North Haven High. What's your name?" I say, making sure to keep my voice even-toned to make a nice impression.

He speaks hesitantly, "I-I'm Bastian. Bastian Craig. I'm a new transfer, but I bet you already guessed that." He begins to laugh a little and I do too, looking down at my shoes as I blush a little. "Hey," he says, and I look up to gaze at his perfect face. "Would you be able to show me around a little once we're done in the line?" he asks. "It would be nice to get to know the grounds ahead of time."