Winter de Glace took a deep breath as he stared up at the familiar façade of Icebreakers Sports Arena. For some reason, it felt like an end. To what, he didn't know. All he knew was that as soon as he stepped out of his sister's car in half an hour, his life would change.
For the better?
Or for worse?
Winter didn't know.
"Be careful," his best friend Lumi said, hugging him tightly. She pulled away and examined his expression. "I know. I'm nervous too. But . . . it really can't be all that different, right?"
She probably meant the words to be comforting.
But for Winter, they were anything but. Different would be so, so much better.
He'd spent all of his elementary school years being one of the highest achieving students at Theodore Roosevelt Elementary. He didn't really expect that to change as he went into middle school. He almost wished it would, though.
That would make things so much easier.
Winter closed his eyes, then blinked them open to take one last look at Icebreakers Sports Arena. He would see it again in a few hours, so it really wasn't that big of a deal.
Or so he tried to convince himself.
"It'll be okay," Lumi promised. "I get it."
But she didn't. She really, really didn't. She might understand a little. She'd been bullied her whole life too. But she had most of her closest friends at her school, and more importantly, she had her family beside her.
Winter didn't have either of those things.
"I know," Winter told her, forcing himself to step away from her. "See you later."
Lumi gave him a sad smile as she turned in the opposite direction.
Winter watched for a moment as she headed through the parking garage to the car heading to her school. Then he spun on his heel and pressed the button to open the door to his sister's 2024 Rolls Royce Spector. (Yeah. Be impressed, readers). He settled into the backseat, his backpack at his feet.
"You okay?" Clyde Love asked. His teammate put down his phone for a second to ask the question, then immediately picked it up again without waiting for an answer. It was like he was glued to it or something.
Winter sighed and pulled his legs up closer, wishing he had a blanket or pillow or something. Then, it wasn't a very long drive, and it was one he drove nearly every day. It would just feel like eternity, partly because of the ridiculous New York City traffic and partly because of the atmosphere in the car. "I'm fine," he told Clyde, even though he was sure his friend wasn't paying attention anymore.
Sure enough, he wasn't. It was Winter's sister who responded from the driver's seat as she pulled out of the parking spot and headed toward the ramp leading out of the employee level of Icebreaker Sports Arena's parking garage. She glanced into the rearview mirror and met his eyes for a moment. "And now the truth?"
"That was the truth," he insisted. But they both knew it wasn't. Iclyn knew him too well.
"Are you nervous?" she asked.
"Of course, I'm nervous!"
"Okay, bad question. Why are you nervous?"
"Because–" Winter broke off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence. "I guess I'm nervous because I know what to expect and I don't like what I expect."
From the passenger seat, Clyde's twin sister Avriella laughed. Iclyn didn't, her face set into a grim line. Their car stopped at the gate that stopped non-employees from entering that level of the garage, and Iclyn opened the window and scanned her ID. The gate opened, and their car glided through.
"That's understandable," Iclyn said, shooting Avriella a look. "Your teachers won't add to the problem. They're all really nice."
"If that hasn't changed since you went there," Avriella pointed out. "That was, like, twenty years ago."
Winter snorted a laugh. Iclyn was eight years older than him, and she was only just out of high school. It definitely hadn't been twenty years since she went to middle school.
"Five," Iclyn corrected with a very loud sigh. "And I checked the website a few days ago. The middle school staff hasn't changed."
"Good," Winter said. He'd heard a lot about Iclyn's teachers, and most of it was positive. That was in contrast to the rest of the school . . .
A flood of worries crashed through Winter's head, and he curled his legs in tighter, trying to avoid his sister's concerned gaze.
"Hey," Iclyn said gently, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror. "It's only six and a half hours. You'll survive."
Winter had no doubt of that. He wasn't worried about surviving. He was worried about how hard surviving would be.
Fifteen minutes later, their car turned into the standard middle school drop off loop, turning several heads. Winter even saw one man's mouth drop open. He smirked for a second, then quickly wiped it off his face as he noticed a familiar car driving out of the drop off loop. He scanned the mass of kids and saw who he expected: Isolde, his twin sister, Quilo, his older brother, Kalda, his cousin, and Marc, Kalda's brother.
Great.
Winter had known they would be here. It wasn't unexpected. It was just . . . disheartening. It felt like proof the next three years would be just as miserable as he expected.
Their car rolled to a stop, and Avriella and Clyde hopped out immediately. Winter held still for a few seconds, trying to gather his nerve.
"Winter," Iclyn began. She sounded weirdly serious.
"Yeah?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation casual.
"Good luck. And . . . at least try to make friends."
"We both know that's pointless," Winter grumbled.
"Winter." His sister's tone left no room for argument.
He sighed. "Whatever. I'll try."
Iclyn didn't seem particularly thrilled by that response, but Winter leapt out of the car before she could protest.
He stood on the curb for a moment, scanning faces. He knew he wouldn't see anyone familiar, other than Clyde and Avriella and his family. But it couldn't hurt to try.
Winter blinked as his eyes narrowed in on a face that he hadn't seen recently but was still incredibly familiar. "Vanessa?" he mumbled, staring at the black-haired girl surrounded by friends across the pavilion.
He hadn't known she was going to this school.
Winter sighed. Vanessa Vierra hated him. And she didn't even have a good reason. At Icebreakers Sports Complex, he had more power than her, so it wasn't like she could really do anything. But here?
Vanessa was popular, or she would be in a few days. Winter was the exact opposite of popular.
Winter picked up his backpack and headed deeper into the school, hoping to avoid Vanessa's attention for as long as possible. Surrounded by laughter and smiles, Winter felt so out of place. He kept his head down, examining the unexciting concrete beneath him like it held the secrets of the universe.
"L'hiver!" a familiar voice called.
Winter groaned and spun around, responding to his name as it was yelled in French. "What do you want, Isolde?" he asked in English. He knew his sister would prefer it if he spoke French, but he wasn't good at listening to preferences.
Isolde slid to a stop in front of him, flanked by Marc and Kalda. Quilo was nowhere to be found. Winter assumed that was because he had friends outside the family he was hanging out with.
Isolde tilted her head to one side, her ice blue eyes puncturing holes in his soul as she flashed a smile that was probably supposed to look friendly. It appeared more manipulative to Winter. "Oh, we just wanted to know what homeroom you're in."
Winter stared at her. "You knew what homeroom I was in like last month," he pointed out.
Isolde looked at Marc and Kalda, then back to Winter. "No, we didn't."
"You did," Winter insisted. "But in case your memory is so weak you can't remember, it's Mr. Wright."
"Oh," Isolde said. The "oh" didn't necessarily show any particular emotion. Disinterest, perhaps, if anything. "Well, have fun." She sniffed in a very "I'm rich and snobby" way. "I can't believe the writing teacher is named Mr. Wright."
Winter decided to ignore her, letting her continue the conversation with Marc and Kalda. It wasn't like they would listen to his opinions anyway.
He stepped away from them and continued through the school, scanning doors for his homeroom. He found it at MS6, which presumably stood for "Middle School Six". Winter didn't know why they had to specify "Middle School" when the entire school was a middle school.
He counted to three before pushing open the door, one second for nerves, and the other two for procrastination.
The door opened to reveal a room full of kids who didn't look like people Winter wanted to know. Granted, whenever he saw anyone, he automatically assumed they weren't anyone he wanted to know, so that didn't necessarily mean much.
"Hello," the teacher–Mr. Wright–said, nodding his head at him. He cocked his head to the side. "I don't remember you from the open house."
"I didn't go to the open house," Winter admitted. "I'm Winter. De Glace." He waited for the inevitable gasp when he said his last name, plus the inevitable question: You're related to those de Glaces?
To his surprise, it never came. Mr. Wright studied him. "You don't carry yourself like a de Glace."
Winter blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I taught your parents, your sister, and now you, your brother, and your other sister. Also your cousins and your aunts and uncle. You don't carry yourself like a de Glace."
"I still don't know what you mean." Winter didn't know how wary he should be. Being told he didn't act like a de Glace was something he was told frequently, but usually that was by people inside the family. If his parents found out someone outside the family had told him this, Winter would be in a lot of trouble.
"I mean it as a compliment," Mr. Wright assured him. "It's just that . . . the rest of your family . . . they exude confidence. They act like they own the world. You don't."
"Because I'm not confident and I definitely don't own the world," Winter pointed out honestly. "Also, you taught Izotz, right? He didn't exude confidence when he was my age. Neither did Lae. They aren't like the rest of us."
Mr. Wright's mouth twitched. "I was under the impression that your side of the family didn't speak to them anymore."
"That impression is correct."
Now he laughed out loud. "You and I are going to get along just fine," Mr. Wright told Winter. "Just from this conversation, I can tell you take after your uncle more than your father."
"I've heard that before. People tell me I'm like Izotz when he was my age at least once a day. It gets kind of annoying."
Mr. Wright raised an eyebrow. "Did you just call your teacher annoying?"
Winter considered that. "I didn't know it was intended to be a compliment, but I suppose I did."
Mr. Wright laughed again. "You're snarky."
"I know."
"Keep it up," the teacher told him as the bell rang and a few stragglers entered the classroom. "I look forward to getting to know you throughout the year."
Winter nodded, not really sure how to respond to that. But he stepped down the aisle of desks, trying to ignore his classmates stares as he took a seat, glad his desk was at the back of the class.
"So," Mr. Wright said, pacing the front of the room. "I'm Mr. Wright."
News flash, went Winter's mind. But he supposed introducing yourself was what you're supposed to do.
Winter slouched in his seat, trying to look like he was paying attention, though what slouching had to do with paying attention, he wasn't quite sure. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but part of him wanted to impress Mr. Wright. Unfortunately, impressing Mr. Wright went hand in hand with making his parents happy, and that was the last thing he wanted. So Winter continued to slouch and tune his teacher out.
It was all the usual beginning-of-the-year announcements, and since it was the first day at a new school, he supposed some of it might actually be useful. But he couldn't bring himself to listen. So when Mr. Wright told them it was time to head to their next class, Winter practically jumped up.
Not that the next class was very exciting. The teacher introduced herself as Ms. Usoro and said that the class she taught was history. Winter vaguely remembered a story his sister had told him about Ms. Usoro. Apparently, she had almost been fired for bringing a gun to school. Winter remembered being shocked when she hadn't been fired, but apparently, she'd paid off the students who'd reported her to lie about it.
None of this made Winter more excited about his new school.
The next class was more positive. Because it was the first day of school, Winter's whole homeroom rotated together instead of heading to their individual classes. Their third rotation was the dance studio, where all the arts teachers were gathered.
If Winter had been alone, he would have been bouncing up and down in excitement. Dance! Music! And drama! His three favorite subjects, all in one place. Granted, he was pretty sure he wouldn't get to do any of it then, but that didn't make him any less excited.
Winter slipped into the dance studio at the end of the mob of students. He had learned long ago that it was better to stay at the back – out of sight, out of mind.
Likewise, he sat in the back corner when one of the three performing art teachers instructed the class to sit on the floor. He overheard more than a few grumblings about how "can't there be any chairs?" Apparently, no one was competent enough to realize that in a dance studio, chairs aren't really necessary.
"Welcome to the introductory class for the performing arts," one of the teachers who looked like she was probably the dance teacher said. "I'm Ms. Odette, and I teach dance." She stepped back to allow the next teacher to speak.
"I'm Mr. Drama, and I teach drama," the next teacher said, earning snickers from all around the room.
Seriously? Winter thought. The drama teacher was named Mr. Drama? And there was an English teacher named Mr. Wright? What was up with this school?
"Yes, that is my name," Mr. Drama informed them. "I don't really know what my parents were thinking, but it is an actual name."
The whispering started up again, and Winter rolled his eyes. He wanted to open his backpack and pull out a book, but he didn't want the performing art teachers thinking he didn't care about their subjects.
"I'm Ms. Harmony," the third teacher announced, effectively quieting the class, and this time Winter allowed his lips to curve into the slightest smile. "I teach music."
"Don't roll your eyes at us," Ms. Odette instructed, though she said it more like an order. "We are completely serious and can be very mean when we want to be."
"Oh, sure," the kid next to Winter scoffed to his friend. "With a name like that, I'm definitely getting 'mean' feels."
"Do you want to go to the office, Mr. Delacruz?" Mr. Drama called over to the boy, who didn't respond. Mr. Drama let it go, a fact that annoyed Winter. If you're going to make a threat, at least follow through with it.
"So, now that we've introduced ourselves, let's get down to business," Ms. Harmony called.
Winter felt his hands curl around each other in anticipation. Hopefully, "getting down to business" meant actual dancing, music, and drama.
Unfortunately, it didn't. Ms. Harmony, Mr. Drama, and Ms. Odette spent the rest of the class talking about how these classes weren't optional so put in the same effort you would into any other class.
The. Rest. Of. Class.
Half. An. Hour.
And Winter was able to sum it up in a single sentence.
When they were finally dismissed for lunch, Winter was almost glad. Almost.
He headed back to homeroom to get his lunch, sticking towards the back of the mob again. He grabbed it in a few seconds but then took a few extra seconds pretending to be extremely interested in rooting around his backpack. As soon as the mob cleared, he grabbed his book and left the cart.
Winter's footsteps felt heavy against the concrete as he headed toward the lunch tables. His feet dragged, and he kept his head down, trying not to draw attention to himself, even though he was sure he was drawing quite a bit of it. When he reached the lunch tables, he forced himself to look up. The tables on the far side were practically abandoned, so he went in that direction. He selected a table as far away from the "popular group" and his siblings as he could.
Winter sat down and opened his book, hoping he would be permitted to read in peace. No such luck.
"Hey," a familiar voice said, and Winter looked up as his heart automatically dropped. A "hey" was never good.
"Oh," he said without enthusiasm when he saw Clyde sitting across from him. "It's you."
"Who did you think I was?"
"Literally anyone else." This was a positive development – Clyde was sitting with him! Winter hoped it would last, though that hope wasn't very strong.
"But, like, who anyone else?" Clyde persisted.
Winter suppressed a sigh. He liked Clyde. He really did. But sometimes he could be a little dense. "Whenever someone approaches me, I automatically assume it's to tell me I'm stupid. Or ask what I'm reading and then laugh and say, 'You're reading during lunch? That's such a nerdy thing to do.' And if it's my sister or my cousins, they usually ask why I'm not studying, since obviously my grades need improvement even though they're near perfect."
Winter took a deep breath. The words had just poured out of him, without permission from his brain first. He didn't really want Clyde to know that. He would never understand.
Clyde simply blinked at him, clearly not knowing what to say. Honestly, Winter didn't know what to say either.
"Which classes did you guys have?" Avriella asked, plunking her lunch tray down on their table.
Winter blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected both Avy and Clyde to sit with him. Honestly, he hadn't expected either. But now that they were, he supposed it made sense. They already knew him, whereas they didn't know anyone else at the school.
"Performing arts, history, and LA," Winter answered. He took a bite of his sandwich to avoid having to elaborate.
"Cool. How were they?"
Oh, great. A question. Usually, Winter was at ease around Avy, but that was at Icebreakers, where he was generally liked. "Fine," Winter said, using the one-word answer tactic.
It didn't work. "Did anything exciting happen?" Avriella pressed.
"Not really. It was really boring."
"That was how my classes were as well," Clyde put in. "I don't know what I expected; it's school, after all."
Avy laughed, and Winter forced himself to join in. But a nagging part of his mind wondered how long this would last. How long would it take Avy and Clyde to realize that if they wanted to survive in middle school, he wasn't the person you wanted to know?