Chapter One

New Beginnings

Alex stood outside the entrance of his new school, nervously clutching the strap of his backpack. The building loomed in front of him, its brick walls towering like a fortress. The bustling students moving around seemed to swallow him whole, their laughter and chatter blending into an overwhelming noise that made him feel even smaller. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that this was supposed to be a fresh start—a chance to leave behind the awkwardness of his old school, the bullying, and the feeling of never quite belonging. Maybe here, he could finally find a place where he fit in, where he could be himself without fear of judgment.

The reality of starting over was terrifying. It wasn't easy being the new kid, and uncertainty gnawed at him as he pushed open the heavy doors and stepped inside. The scent of floor polish and the indistinct hum of conversations immediately surrounded him. The hallways were a chaotic rush of students, laughter, and lockers slamming shut, and Alex felt his anxiety spike, his eyes darting from one group of students to another. He felt like every pair of eyes could see right through him, judging him, even though most people barely noticed him. He made his way to the office, collected his schedule, and navigated the crowded halls to his first class: Art. The people around him seemed to move effortlessly, chatting and laughing, while he clung to the piece of paper that told him where he was supposed to be. Art was the one subject he was actually excited about—a chance to immerse himself in something familiar amidst all the unknowns, a place where he could lose himself in creativity.

The classroom was bright, with sunlight streaming through large windows, illuminating rows of easels and shelves of supplies. The sunlight gave the room a warm, almost magical glow, and Alex could already feel a bit of the tension easing from his shoulders. He chose an empty seat at the back, away from the clusters of students who were already chatting comfortably, and set down his sketchbook, hoping to fade into the background. He unpacked his pencils, taking a moment to center himself. Art was his sanctuary, the one place where he felt completely at ease, without the weight of expectations or the fear of failing to fit in. He opened his sketchbook to a blank page, ready to lose himself in the lines and shading.

As he began to draw, the door swung open, and a boy with sandy blond hair and a confident air walked in, talking animatedly to a friend. The room seemed to brighten with his presence, his laughter contagious, and Alex couldn't help but notice the easy way he moved, as if he belonged here, entirely comfortable in his own skin—something Alex envied.

Alex watched as the boy—Liam, according to the teacher's roll call—took a seat a few easels away, his eyes scanning the room with a kind of relaxed confidence. Alex found himself wondering what it would be like to be that self-assured, to walk into a room without feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on him. Liam was everything Alex wasn't: outgoing, athletic, and well-liked, the kind of person who seemed to glide through life without the anxieties that weighed Alex down. As the teacher gave instructions for the day's assignment, Alex focused on his sketch, trying to ignore the nerves still bubbling beneath the surface, telling himself that he just needed to get through this day—one class at a time, one breath at a time.

A few minutes later, a sudden jolt interrupted his concentration. He glanced up to see Liam accidentally knocking over a jar of brushes from the shelf next to Alex's table, the clatter startling him out of his focused state. Brushes clattered to the ground, and Alex instinctively bent down to help pick them up, his hands moving quickly as he tried to gather them before anyone else noticed the mess.

"Oh, sorry about that!" Liam said, hurrying over to gather the fallen brushes. He flashed Alex an apologetic smile, his eyes warm and friendly. "First day, huh?"

Alex nodded, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Yeah. Just trying not to mess anything up."

Liam laughed, a warm, easy sound that put Alex at ease. "I get it. Happens to the best of us. I'm Liam, by the way." He offered a smile that seemed to say, 'You're okay, really,' and Alex couldn't help but smile back, even if just a little.

"Alex," he replied, feeling a little less awkward as Liam handed him a brush.

"Nice to meet you, Alex. If you need anything—you know, directions or whatever—just let me know." Liam's smile was genuine, and Alex felt a small spark of hope igniting inside him. Maybe this new beginning wouldn't be so bad after all.

As Liam returned to his seat, Alex found himself smiling, a sense of optimism creeping in, something he hadn't felt in a long time. It was just a small moment, but it felt significant, like a crack of light breaking through the dark clouds that had followed him for so long. Maybe, just maybe, things were starting to look up, and this new school could be more than just a place to endure—it could be a place to grow.

As class continued, Alex couldn't help but steal glances at Liam. There was something about the way Liam carried himself that drew Alex in—a confidence that seemed effortless, as if he knew exactly who he was and wasn't afraid of what anyone else thought. It was magnetic, and Alex found himself wishing he could be a little more like that. When the teacher asked them to partner up for a still-life drawing, Alex hesitated, his heart sinking as he looked around the room, unsure if anyone would pick him, the familiar fear of being left out gnawing at him. He started to look down at his sketchbook, preparing himself for the worst. To his surprise, Liam turned around and waved him over, his smile broad and welcoming, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to choose Alex.

"Hey, want to partner up?" Liam asked, his smile making Alex's nerves dissipate slightly.

"Uh, sure," Alex replied, moving his supplies over to Liam's table. They set up their easels side by side, a bowl of fruit between them as their subject. Alex found himself sneaking glances at Liam's sketch, amazed at how quickly and confidently he worked, while Liam occasionally peeked at Alex's work with an encouraging nod.

"So, where did you move from?" Liam asked as they began sketching.

"Just a small town a couple of hours away," Alex said, focusing on the lines of his drawing. "It wasn't really... the right fit for me, I guess."

Liam nodded. "I get that. Moving is tough. But hey, I think you'll fit in here just fine." He glanced at Alex's sketch and nodded approvingly. "You're really good at this, you know."

Alex felt his face warm. "Thanks. I've been drawing since I was a kid. It's kind of my escape, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that. For me, it's sports," Liam said, shading in the apple on his paper. "But I think it's cool you have something like this. Not everyone does."

For the first time that day, Alex felt the tightness in his chest loosen, as if the weight he'd been carrying had lightened just a bit. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Maybe there was a chance he could actually belong here—not just in the school, but with someone like Liam.

The rest of class passed in a blur of sketches and casual conversation, and by the end of it, Alex found himself laughing at Liam's stories about the time he accidentally kicked the school mascot's costume head across the gym during a pep rally. When the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, Alex felt a pang of disappointment, wishing they could spend just a bit more time together.

"Hey, you have any classes near here next?" Liam asked, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

Alex checked his schedule. "Uh, English… in Room 203."

"Oh, nice! That's on my way to History. Come on, I'll walk you there," Liam offered with a casual smile.

As they made their way through the bustling halls, Liam pointed out a few things: the vending machines that only worked half the time, the library where students secretly met up to play cards, and the outdoor courtyard where everyone hung out when the weather was nice. Alex listened, laughing along, feeling his nerves unravel bit by bit. It wasn't just that Liam was kind or outgoing; he had this way of making Alex feel like he belonged, as if his presence wasn't a burden or an inconvenience.

When they reached Room 203, Liam clapped Alex on the shoulder. "Alright, here you are. Good luck, man. We'll catch up later?"

"Yeah," Alex replied, feeling a new kind of warmth settle in his chest. "Thanks, Liam."

As he entered his English class and took a seat, Alex replayed the past hour in his mind, still half-convinced it had been a fluke. But even if it was, he told himself, he'd take it. Because for the first time in a long time, Alex felt like he wasn't just surviving—he was living.