Chapter 1: The New Boy
The school bell rang with a sharp buzz, cutting through the Monday morning haze like a blade. Lockers slammed, sneakers squeaked across polished linoleum floors, and voices rose in waves of teenage chatter. At the edge of the chaos, a boy stood still.
Shams Macas.
Eighteen years old. Brown skin. Jet-black hair cropped short. His school uniform hung slightly loose, like it was borrowed or bought secondhand. His black eyes scanned the hallway, expression unreadable, lips gently pressed together—not frowning, not smiling. Just… there.
He held a thin folder in one hand. Inside: a printed schedule, a school map, and a copy of his immigration documents from the Philippines. His guidance counselor had given him a tour last Friday, but nothing about this place felt familiar.
At Saint Delores High, students moved in packs. Shams walked alone.
"Hey!" a voice called from behind.
Shams turned.
A blond-haired boy in a varsity jacket smirked. "You lost or just stupid?"
Two other students—one tall with curly hair, the other a girl with glossy pink lips and an evil smile—joined him. The hallway seemed to grow quieter around them. Not silent. Just... attentive.
Shams said nothing. He tilted his head slightly, as if listening for something the others couldn't hear.
The tall one stepped forward. "Yo, do you even speak English?"
Shams nodded. "Yes."
"Oh," the girl said with mock surprise. "He talks."
They laughed. Other students turned away, pretending not to see.
"I'm Tyler," the blond said. "This is Max, and that's Zoe. And you?"
"Shams," he replied.
"Shams?" Tyler repeated, laughing. "What is that, like… shampoo?"
Zoe giggled. "Shampoo Macas."
Shams didn't flinch. His face remained blank, like a doll's.
"I don't want trouble," he said quietly.
Tyler took a step closer. "Too late, Shampoo."
Max swatted the folder from Shams' hands, scattering his papers. One fluttered like a leaf down the hallway. Another was stomped under Zoe's pink sneaker.
Shams looked down at the mess, then slowly crouched to gather it.
"Welcome to Saint Delores, loser," Tyler said, slapping the back of his head as they walked away laughing.
Shams didn't react.
He stood up slowly, brushing dust from his schedule, folding it neatly, and placing it back in the folder. His fingers lingered on the crease.
Across the hallway, someone watched him—a girl with thick glasses and a heavy backpack. She looked away when Shams caught her eye.
The final bell rang. The hallway emptied.
Shams stood alone again.
He took a deep breath, then turned toward Room 2B. History class.
As he walked, a tiny smile crept across his lips. Barely there. Almost invisible.
But it was real.
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