Blackwell Academy, Arcadia Bay, Oregon
Thursday
Life as a high school student provided intolerable stress than one could presume. For many, it was hell itself. For others, it was opportunity to make something of themselves: to prepare them for the real world. There weren't many students at the Academy, but enough to facilitate a few stable classes - in spite of lacking substantial staff.
It was another typical Thursday afternoon in Arcadia Bay. Blackwell Academy had opened up for the day where students spread about the campus to do whatever they pleased. There was a new soul to find purpose at Blackwell Academy, all keen yet anxious to walk up the steps to the main building where they knew they would change their life forever. With the principal's office the first room on the right.
The new student reported to the principal's office before they made their way to their first class - despite it late in the afternoon, they were given an exception to participate in one lesson to get a grasp of what was to expect in future classes. After walking down the hall to their class, the new student hesitantly approached the door to their class. They peeked their head through the glass and noticed their teacher in deep lecture with his students.
"... Alfred Hitchcock famously called film 'little pieces of time,' but he could be talking photography, as he likely was. These pieces of time can frame us in our glory and sorrow; from light to shadow; from colour to chiaroscuro. Now, can you give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition in black and white? Anybody?" The teacher addressed his students.
A girl raised her arm, stealing the attention of her teacher. As soon as she saw his attention was on her, she gave him her answer.
"Diane Arbus," answered a short-haired girl.
"There you go, Victoria! Why Arbus?"
"Because of her images of hopeless faces. You feel like, totally haunted by the eyes of those sad mothers and children."
"She saw humanity as tortured, right? And frankly, it's bullshit. Seriously though, I could frame any one of you in a dark corner, and capture you in a moment of desperation.
A knock at the door and the new student had gained the attention of their their new classmates and teacher. With a wave of the hand from the teacher, the newcomer entered the classroom. A boy with long brown hair entered the room. As soon as he made an appearance, few of the students in the room reprimanded her style of clothing. The boy held onto his backpack by one strap around his shoulder in an attempt to look cool despite how scared he was inside.
He sent a nervous smile to everyone in hopes of easing his own worries while the teacher introduced him to the class filled with teenagers. There were seven students in the class - almost everyone in the class had been listening to what their teacher was saying, with the exception of one who was bored out of his mind and resting during his monologing.
"And now, I'd like to introduce to you all a new face in our class. All the way from Sweet Home Chicago, (Y/n) Leslie Donahue," introduced the teacher.
There were a few snickers and muffled laughter at the new student's middle name but nobody, not even the teacher, dared to call them out. Out of all the faces that took in the new boy's features, a young Christian girl found herself filled with fear over his presence. After he was introduced to the class, he had been requested to take a seat wherever he chose.
"Please don't sit with me. Please don't sit with me. Please don't sit with me." The Christian girl thought to herself as she shut her eyes in hopes of blocking out the negative waves overwhelming her.
When Mr Jefferson noticed (Y/n)'s lack of decisiveness, he ordered (Y/n) to take up a seat adjacent to a girl seated by the window near the back of the room. (Y/n) looked over at the girl he would end up accompanying for the rest of the school year when she looked up at him and a blush crept up on her face. Her eyes widened as a gasp escaped her lips before she ducked her head back down.
Hesitantly, (Y/n) took his place opposite the Christian girl, lining himself up with a brown-haired girl who gave him a friendly wave. (Y/n) waved back before he drew his attention to his teacher, Mr Jefferson. However, after (Y/n) focused on his teacher, he brought everyone's attention onto the girl across from (Y/n) upon noticing that she had miserably failed to take a self-portrait of herself. As a result, Mr Jefferson indulged in educating his class in the origin of 'selfies'.
"And Max has a gift. Of course, are you all know, the photo portrait has been popular since the early eighteen-hundreds. Your generation was not the first to use images for selfie-expression. Sorry. I couldn't resist. The point remains that the portraiture has always been a vital aspect of art and photography, for as long as it's been around. Now Max, since you've captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?"
"Y-You're asking me? Let me think... Umm..."
"You either know this, or not, Max. Is there anybody here who knows their stuff? You. (Y/n). Can you answer this question for Max? Seeing as how she's feeling a bit hopeless?"
(Y/n) perked up, surprised that he had already been picked on for such a thing.
Clearing his throat, (Y/n) answered with a mature, masculine voice. "Louis Daguerre. He was a French painter who created 'daguerreotypes' a process that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror."
"Hm. Good job there, (Y/n). The Daguerreian Process brought out fine detail in people's faces, making them extremely popular from the eighteen-hundreds onward. The first American daguerreotype self-portrait as done by Robert Cornelius. You can find out all about him - in your textbooks. However, (Y/n), you may have to share with Kate here."
The school bell rang, indicating the end of another school day. The students didn't waste a second to pack their belongings and jump out of their seats to escape Mr Jefferson's monologing that they believed brought migraines. (Y/n) did notice that out of all the people who were keen to leave, it were Kate, the girl with the golden cross around her neck, who remained behind with the intent to catch up on her homework before closing time.
"And guys, don't forget the deadline to submit a photo in the Everyday Heroes contest. I'll fly out with the winner to San Francisco where you'll be feted by the art world. (Y/n), come see me so I can fill you in on all the work you'll be needing to fill out. It's great exposure and it can kickstart a career in photography. So Stella and Alyssa, get it together. Taylor, don't hide. I'm still waiting for your entry too. And yes Max, I see you pretending not to see me."
Coyly, (Y/n) cleared his throat to bring Kate's attention onto him. He noticed the bags under her hazel eyes and how drained she appeared due to how red her eyes were. Her hair was messily tied up in a bun but (Y/n) seemed to admire her looks. He just couldn't seem to work out why she was the unfortunate victim to bullying.
"Hey. You okay?" (Y/n) asked the dirty-blonde girl.
When she raised her head up to acknowledge the boy calling for her attention, (Y/n) got a good look at her and noticed the bags under her eyes as well as the fact that said eyes were a bit red from crying. She held a hardened expression and addressed him with a harsh tone.
"Do I look okay to you? Do you have any idea what I'm going through right now? Do you?!" Kate growled icily.
(Y/n) frowned. "I-I'm sorry to disturb you, I just... you look so, so..."
"Pathetic? Miserable? Yeah, I know. Look, I don't want your help. So it's better if you just didn't talk to me and left me the heck alone, okay?"
A frown dropped on his face. The discourage he got from her negative attitude completely broke all confidence he had in trying to cheer her up. Feeling somebody tap his shoulder drew (Y/n)'s attention to a girl with short hair who looked at (Y/n) and Kate with snide.
"Some free word of advice: if people like her don't want your help, just leave them to cry and bitch about how bad their life is. Take Kate for example. She's a whore. A dirty, stinkin' slut. Don't affiliate yourself with people like her. Hmph. And she calls herself a devoted Christian... you disgust me, Marsh. You disgust me." The short-haired girl spoke softly as a sneer was directed towards the girl with puffy red eyes.
"That's not nice. What did she do to deserve being oppressed by the likes of you? Huh? It's people like you that disgust me. You've no shame for the pain you inflict on others and when the same is done to you, everybody will turn on you too." (Y/n) shot back, earning a scoff from the short-haired girl.
"Who the hell do you think you are? Some sort of hot shot? Your face looks familiar..."
"Just leave her alone."
"Or what?"
(Y/n) paused, purposefully giving it a few seconds of nothing said before he drew his attention down to her clothes.
"Those are some expensive clothes you got there. It'd be a real shame if it got ruined." (Y/n) taunted smugly.
A crossed expression formed on her face, to which she let out a scowl and turned heel and left the room. Mr Jefferson paid close attention to what unfolded and devised a plan to ensure no harm was exchanged next lesson. Subconsciously, Kate was grateful for his standing up to her, but she still refused to allow herself to let herself be vulnerable to somebody whose personality she was not aware of yet.
"(Y/n)!" Mr Jefferson sang out, waving for the brown-haired boy to approach his desk.
Making his way over to his teacher's desk, (Y/n) faked a smile and listened to his teach explain and hand out all of the homework that he had to complete and revise. Once he was dismissed, (Y/n) looked over at Kate and saw that she was conversing with Max before he exited the classroom where he was met by loud, indistinct chatter from people throughout the hall. (Y/n) started to walk down the hall, walking past people on their own or in their own small groups.
(Y/n) wandered aimlessly through the halls in search for his dormitory. He desired to seek isolation so that he could complete his homework as soon as possible. To his company came through self-portrait girl, Max. By catching his attention, she removed her earphones and started a conversation she intended to keep as short as possible so she could seek isolation for herself.
"Everything okay? Are you lost?" Max asked politely.
(Y/n) looked at her, surprised. "Just looking for my dorm. Just want to escape all of... this."
"I get that feeling. What's your room number?"
"Uhh, Room 2318."
Max giggled in amusement, much to (Y/n)'s confusion. "I think someone's played a joke on you, (Y/n)."
"What do you mean?"
"There's no such thing as Room 2318. I think you mean Room 231. Have you watched Monsters Inc.?"
"No. What's that?"
"It's an a movie about monsters, basically. There's a silly joke throughout the movie where if someone has a white sock on them, people act as if they're contaminated and get shaved and cleaned. You should watch it sometime. I'm gonna go. Got an appointment at the girl's toilets."
"Okay Max. It was nice to finally make your acquaintance. See you tomorrow... second period, right?"
"Sounds good, (Y/n). Oh, and your room is around the back. Go up the stairs, down the hall until you reach a T intersection. Turn right, go all the way to the end and it's the last one non the left."
Parting ways, (Y/n) made his way out the front of the school and wandered all the wat around the back. He easily found his way thanks to the directions Max gave him to locate the dormitories of the students who lived at the campus. (Y/n) wandered around for about a minute or so when something strange happened. Nobody else in the world - except a special someone - realised that they were about to repeat what had happened just fifteen minutes ago.