CHAPTER ONE

“Five more minutes…” I said. 

“ADAM! YOU ARE LATE FOR SCHOOL!” my mom yelled in anger and disappointment.

I looked at my alarm clock. What time is it?, I thought. *click, Buzz* 

8:32. 

“8:32!? Fudge” I say. Only that it’s not what I say, if you know what I mean. “Shoot, I am so late!” 

I ran out of the house with my shoes barely on. 

“You can’t be late again,” the principal told me with a dry voice with absolutely no emotion at all. I was sitting in her office. An office that I knew very well. Too well. “This is your 29th time this year.” she added. 

“Well we only have one month left, and we barely learn anything anyway, so why does it matter?” 

Our principal was old. Very old. And no one in the whole school dared to talk to her like that. But I just did. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” I said. I was shocked at what I just said to her. How did this happen?

“It just came out of my mouth I swear! I didn’t mean to-” I stop, staring at the floor nervously. What's the point?, I thought. 

The principal's wrinkled face was turning red. From pale to red. Very fast. Her expression became angrier and angrier from second to second, and every second I wanted to disappear more and more.

CHAPTER TWO

Here I am, in detention. It’s 2:48, so I've only been here for about 15 minutes. Feels like 15 years.   

Ms. Bolgar, the detention supervisor, looked at the clock, sighed, and went back to sleep. 

Then, it happened. She entered the room. Who entered the room you might be asking? Her name is Amery Sloane, she has smooth, black hair, a beautiful oval shaped face, two beautiful sky blue eyes, and a slightly sad face.

Today, I noticed that she had a bleeding cut through her brow and a bruise under her left eye. “Hi,” she said nervously.

“Hello,” I replied. Some people have trouble talking to girls. I don’t even if I am in love with them. And here I was. Fully in love. “What happened?” I asked.

“Just some bullies.” she said. 

“They're sitting over there.” she pointed.

It was fine until one of them turned to us, grinning in evil.  “What are you doing pointing to us beautiful?” one of them said. “Do you want some more?”

The next day, when I got to school (on time thankfully), I wanted to help Amerey. I asked her how I could help, and she told me not to worry about it. I insisted, but she said not to help her. I wanted to help anyway, but I just felt like I should let her be.

  A lot of people tell me I'm not organized. I used to be very organized. 

It all changed at the start of the school year, when I met Amery.

Well no, it didn't start then. It started when I fell in love with her.

CHAPTER THREE

The next morning, I woke up early. The moon was still a cold, pale coin pressed against the bedroom window, and a deep, weird quiet had settled over the house. My toothbrush felt shaky in my hand. I stared at my face in the mirror, watching the ghost of my sleep-deprived eyes stare back. I was going to be on time. Finally.

It was a good morning. The bus pulled away as I walked around the corner, but I didn’t care. The walk was better, the cold air sharp and clean. I checked my phone. 7:30. A full half hour until the first bell. I put the phone away, a small, triumphant smile playing on my lips. Then, I saw her.

  The principal was standing just inside the school gates, a shadow in the morning haze. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her posture rigid and still. She didn't wave. She didn't move. She just watched me approach, a dark statue against the gray sky.

My feet slowed. The air grew heavy, like a dense fog. The silence felt wrong. It wasn't the quiet of an early morning, but a complete absence of sound, as if the world itself were holding its breath. Every step I took was a heartbeat against the asphalt. Thump. Thump. Thump.

When I finally reached the gates, her gaze met mine. Her eyes, normally a watery blue, seemed impossibly dark. It was then that the first bell rang, a shrill, mocking peal that fractured the silence and made me jump. My phone was still tucked away. I didn’t need to look. I already knew.

“8:07,” she said, his voice a low rumble. "You're late."

I could feel the blood draining from my face. It was impossible. The numbers were wrong. They had to be.

"But... how?" I stammered. "It was 7:30 just a few minutes ago. I swear."

She said nothing, only raised a single, bony finger. "30th time," she stated flatly. The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

All the color, all the sound, all the triumph drained out of the day. A cold dread seeped into my bones, a knowledge of an inevitable punishment that was already in motion. The world felt like a trap, and I was caught inside a ticking clock that only moved forward, no matter how hard I tried to stop it.