The first thing that struck her was the heat. A harsh and almost tangible heat that seemed to crawl around her and invade the space, revelling in the emptiness it was experiencing. She felt like she was in a cocoon filled with this unbearable heat. The second thing that came to her was the crackling, deafening cracklings that seemed to come from everywhere and from nowhere at once. The third thing was instinct. The instinct that something was going badly and that if she didn't react, she would disappear.

Skye suddenly opened her eyes, which immediately filled with smoke, making them cry. She coughed and the mist filled her throat, burning her lungs. His whole body was painful, as if thousands of needles were deeply planted there. Each breath was a torture, every movement started a nameless suffering. The little girl took on her and sat down. She opened her eyes slightly.

The fire was everywhere, devouring the walls, rolling over the counter above her. The ashes flew in the browned air. It was impossible to see further than a few centimeters. The smoke was hanging over Skye, as if it was waiting for a sign to plunge on her and to invest her tired body. Because yes, the child had only one desire: to curl up in a ball and sleep. Sleep to never wake up.

A scream, followed by an infamous gurgling, pulled her out of her stupor. She turned her head and narrowed her eyes. A movement, more chaotic and less graceful than that of voracious flames, caught her attention: a little further to the left, a man was burning, moaning sullenly. The air smelled of sulfur, but also of the flesh, which was slowly charring like a pig that is grilled on a spit.

Skye repressed nausea and leaned on the wall to get up. Her shaking legs were barely wearing her, but she had to go out! She inhaled and regretted it as soon as the smoke infiltrated her. She was coughing and flickered, her eyes cloudy. So weak ... She could only take a few steps before collapsing heavily, gasping for breath. In front of her, the body didn't move anymore.

Skye was drawn from her nightmare by the loud bell ringing every morning at precisely 7:10 AM. She jumped and straightened up at once, her breathing erratic. Haggard, she detailed the room. She was at the orphanage. Her eyes were troubled by tears; she tried to slow down the beating of her heart. It was way too early for a panic attack, and it was far too humiliating to do it in front of the other kids.

Skye sighed as she passed a shaking hand through her sweat-soaked hair, cursing her mind to play such tricks on her as she slept. Didn't she suffer enough the rest of the time? Was she mad to hope for a little respite at night? The nuns said that each man had to carry his Cross, and that everyone received the share of happiness and the share of misfortune he deserved. They said it was in the natural order of things ... Well, Skye must have been a frightful girl in a past life to deserve so many misfortunes in that life; she didn't see the end of the tunnel. If past lives are a belief of Catholicism, which she doubted. She wasn't very religious. She tended to rebel against anything that could try to control her, so she didn't know very well. Not that it is of vital importance, moreover.

She shrugged. If God really existed, then the Sisters had to be right: she was fundamentally bad and deserved to be punished. Many of them were whispering that she was a bad girl, that she had the devil, the demon, the evil one in her and that she must be punished, that she deserved to be punished. Maybe they weren't wrong. Skye was often angry. Anger was one of the deadly sins, as well as pride and laziness, and it was three characters attributed to her without hesitation. She was surely very bad, the incarnation of Evil in all it splendour.

The pain radiating from her wrist pulled her from her dark thoughts and she glanced at her arm: the wrist was swollen and blue, and it hurt like hell, but it didn't seem to be broken. She would ask a nun for some ice, and it would work out by itself. Skye took a deep breath and pushed back the bed covers, noting that like her hair, her entire body was dripping with sweat. No way to go down without taking a shower.

She got up and spent a few minutes wondering what she would wear for her first day of school. The school year had started a month ago. This would make her more noticeable than if she had arrived at the same time as everyone else. The question was not which outfit would make her the most valuable, but which clothes would be the least shameful to wear. In all, Skye owned two blue jeans, three short-sleeved T-shirts, two long-sleeved shirts, an old vest, a single jog, two pairs of underwear and two pairs of socks. Her last coat was stolen from her when she was at St. Agnes so she didn't have any, and the nuns gave out a few clothes only when they thought the children's clothes were really good to throw away. Skye chooses the most presentable jeans, torn at the knees, as well as a short-sleeved green T-shirt with just two holes. She went to the bathrooms and isolated herself in a compartment. She stared thoughtfully at the clothes she was carelessly holding. As she was thin, they were all ten times too big for her. "I don't even see why I'm bothering," she thought, "I'll look like a bag anyway."

She pushed back her thoughts to hang her clothes on the coat rack with her towel, and then she went to the side to run the water so that she was not touched. She was very afraid of the water, and wanted to adjust the jet correctly so as not to panic. She positioned it on the smallest flow and undressed. She took a shower without putting herself under the jet, contenting herself with collecting the water with her hands and then pouring it on her body. Obviously it was longer, but the other option was way too scary.

She went out after ten minutes and got dressed. Finding that she was literally bathing in her clothes, she made a face. She left the compartment to enjoy the mirror, and could only contemplate the ravages left by the last two nights on her pale face and dug as death. She had huge dark circles and looked even more pale than usual. She looked like a zombie. She tried to do something with her long, unruly brown hair, but gave up, realizing she was late for breakfast. She simply brushed them, went back to her room and put on her old uncomfortable sneakers, before going downstairs.

She was about to enter the refectory when a squeaky voice stopped her impetus:

"Mary Sue, you're late."

She sighed when she heard her awful name, and turned around. She was facing Sister Beatrice.

"Sorry", she mumbled.

"You must have some manners, girl, otherwise no family will want you", the old woman said.

Skye restrained herself very hard not to roll her eyes. She had been hearing this talk since she was old enough to tell the difference between a baby and an old skin. "You must not cry, children, otherwise no one will ever adopt you". "If you shout, nobody will want you." "If you don't work at school, no parent will want to adopt you" ... And blah blah blah.

"Can I go eat?" the teenager sighed.

"You should have arrived on time Mary Sue. The kids are almost done and it's going to be time to go to school, especially since you have to leave earlier. Go up brush your teeth and take your bag."

"But I didn't eat yesterday, I'm hungry!" Skye protested.

"Enough! If you insist on answering, girl, I will make a behaviour report. Do you want to have one while you've just come back?"

Skye clenched her fists and bowed her head, raging with an inner rage that never really left her, and all too often manifested to her liking.

"No, Sister Beatrice."

She nodded dryly and Skye climbed up. The room was empty and she could unleash her anger by hitting the wall twice with her valid fist. The gesture had the effect of bringing a partial calm in her. She calmed her breath and brushed her teeth quickly before making her bag. She had only the notebooks of her old school, almost empty because she had a hard time reading and writing, and basic school materials, and a sports outfit in case she had PE. She took the plan Sister Anne had given her yesterday and came down again after putting on her waistcoat. She would have liked to do without it, but on the one hand she knew it was cold even if it was only in October, and on the other hand she had to hide her scars.

She reported to the main office that she was leaving for school and was reminded once again that she was due to return at the end of classes. She blocked the scathing remark that wanted to cross her lips and went out.

She had just started on the sidewalk when she realized she had forgotten to ask for an ice pack. Never mind. She could bear the pain, and anyway, she had already experienced worse. The thing that worried her most for the moment was that she felt weak because of her lack of sleep and the fact that she hadn't swallowed anything today and yesterday. She sighed to ignore the emptiness she felt in her stomach and kept walking. She couldn't help but be worried about her new school. Of one, she had never liked to go to class, and two, she was really very bad. She didn't want to enter the unfamiliar room of an unknown professor and face about twenty unknown faces who wouldn't hesitate to judge her unkempt and too big outfit. She would have wanted to run away from this stupid school and that stupid orphanage, and depend only on herself. But she knew only too well that the street was not lenient. Formerly, with Robbie, it was easier, but she knew that alone, she had no chance of getting out of it. She had a twinge in her heart when she thought of the only friend she had really had in her life; even more than a friend, a big brother. By his side she had felt pampered, loved and protected for the first time in her young life. But like everything, it had not lasted. Robbie was gone and she was alone and broken again.

She came out of her macabre thoughts when she saw a sweat in the window of a small shop. It was the most beautiful thing she had seen in at least three months. The garment was blue and white and seemed unreasonably silky. She thought fleetingly that she would look a lot less neglected if she wore this garment instead of her waistcoat. It only took her a second to decide. Having practically left to herself since she was little, she had learned some things, of which theft. Well, Robbie had taught her his techniques for stealing stuff, when she was five and him nine. She entered the store, and a glance was enough to notice that there were no safety gates at the entrance and that the clothes didn't have locks. The salesman being busy with a client, she melted among the stalls, all bigger than her. She quickly found the sweatshirt and took it in the smaller size. He would still be a little too tall but not shockingly like her old clothes. She stuffed it into her backpack. After checking that the seller was still busy, she went out normally and waited to bifurcate into another street to take out the sweatshirt, which she tore off the labels. She took off her waistcoat and put it in her bag, before putting on the new garment, which smelled fresh and very sweet, tearing a groan of contentment. Conversely, the vest was rough and it was spinning buttons.

She continued on her way and arrived at school a few minutes later. Despite the renewed confidence that inspired her new sweatshirt, she couldn't help but be intimidated by the size of the building facing her. He was taller than her old school, and even bigger than St. Agnes. Clusters of noisy students came bawling and bickering, and she waited until the bulk of the crowd had dispersed to enter. She didn't like other children, and it was a shame considering the fact that she lived surrounded by children.

She wandered around the corridors for a moment, holding grunts when she was jostled or when some of the students screamed. She had to go to the principal's office, but she had no idea where the famous office was. After going around in circles for a good ten minutes, the ringing sounded. Great, she was going to be late. She hurried, but a boy hit her around the corner. She nearly fell, but he caught her by the arm.

"Sorry", he apologized. "I hadn't seen you."

"It's nothing", she mumbled, retrieving her fallen bag during the altercation.

The boy watched her do.

"By the way, I'm Lincoln."

"Skye," she said simply, pushing her bag.

She looked at him for the first time. He was taller than her but he didn't look much older. He had blond hair in battle and beautiful blue eyes. "Blue as heaven," she thought. He was tall and thin, but his muscles were still under his simple black t-shirt. It was cold but it didn't seem to bother him, since he also had brown shorts. She looked at his blue sneakers and thought fleetingly of those stolen by Sister Anne.

"Nice to meet you, Skye," Lincoln smiled.

His smile was beautiful, and his voice was soft and warm. She gave him a small smile in return, and shook his hand shyly. His skin was soft, and she couldn't help thinking that hers was not because she could never put cream. The boy didn't seem to notice.

"You are new?" he asked.

Skye hesitated. She thought he was nice, but she didn't want to start making connections, considering that she might not stay long enough. Anyway, the minute he learns that she was an orphan, his eyes would change dramatically. And then she was not good at creating relationships. She was relentlessly sarcastic and ironic, and she knew that her mood swings were unbearable. But as he was friendly, she answered him anyway:

"Is it showing that much?"

The teenager could feel her embarrassment, and he shrugged.

"Not really, but you seem to be wondering what you're doing here, and looking for your way", he explicated.

"Touched", she said without being able to stop herself, "you've fallen on a small misplaced animal."

Her constant irony had the gift of annoying a lot of people, but Lincoln was not one of them because he smiled even more widely at his remark.

"Let me guess: you're looking for the director's office, I'm wrong?"

"No. You won the jackpot."

He laughed slightly and Skye smiled. Lincoln seemed to be a cool guy and he didn't take offense at the half-shy, half-sarcastic nature of the girl. She felt comfortable with him, for the moment anyway.

"Come, I'll show you", he said.

Skye followed him up the stairs as he continued to lead the conversation:

"I'm in seventh grade, and you?"

"Same, normally," she said evenly, concentrating not to fall (she was clumsy enough, and hunger didn't help).

"Cool!" he exclaimed. "We may be in the same class."

Skye smiled. She would be a little less lost if she knew that at least one nice boy was part of her classmates.

"Yes, perhaps," she repeated softly.

They stopped on the third floor and Lincoln guided her in several corridors until they reached a large space that served as a waiting room. Several chairs were against a wall and green plants brightened the place a little. The office, whose door was closed, was facing the chairs. The name of the director on the door could be read: Nick Fury. Lincoln announced the obvious:

"Here! Here we are!"

Skye wriggled her hands nervously. The director must have had her file in hand and was therefore aware that it wasn't very bright. She sighed. It didn't help to push back the inevitable.

"Thanks for guiding Lincoln, that's very nice", she thanked.

"You're welcome, that's normal", he replied. "I hope we will see each other in class."

He left and she murmured:

"Yes I hope."

She took a deep breath, taking courage with both hands, and knocked. A muffled "Come In" came to her and she stepped through the door into a large, welcoming office, less cold than she had expected. The director was seated behind a large wooden desk covered with mountains of papers. At first glance, he was very intimidating with his blindfold. She stepped forward, however, and he got up when he saw her. She noticed that he was very tall and seriously muscular. She felt uncomfortable.

"Ah, you must be Mary Sue, I guess? Sit down, I beg you."

She obeyed without bothering to correct her name. In any case, she didn't even feel able to pronounce a single word. He flipped through a file in front of her and she assumed it was hers. She waited patiently for him to speak.

"Well, your record is pretty filled", he commented. "You have been in many schools in a short time. I guess it's because of your placements in different families?"

"Yes", she mumbled without looking at him.

He nodded, turning a page.

"From what I see, you have a lot of difficulties in school, as well as "behaviour problems". Many deductions and punishments as well as some temporary exclusions, and more recently a definitive exclusion. It is written that you have violent behaviour, that you have fought several times, that you show insolence and that you have assaulted a teacher, among others. Do you want to talk to me about it?"

Impassive, Skye simply shrugged, arms folded. Nick Fury smiled internally. The teenager clearly refused the conversation.

"Never mind," he went on. "It's a new school, so a new folder. You are starting from scratch."

He threw the file in the trash. Skye raised an eyebrow. It was totally cliché but she couldn't help but find that comforting.

"Here is your second chance", the director clarified. "I prefer to form my own opinion of my students, and I want the educational team to do the same, which is why no teacher will have access to your file, except in case of extreme urgency. As I said, we are making a clean sweep of the past, and we are starting from scratch. Do you feel like plan?"

She nodded, still inexpressive, but secretly a little reassured. If the teachers didn't have access to her file, then only the director would know that she was an orphan, at least if he didn't talk to anyone, which she had to make sure.

"Good," the man continued, handing her documents. "Here's your schedule and your locker number, and the basic forms to fill out and return to your principal teacher or secretary. You have history in the first period, with your main teacher precisely. Do you have any question?

She hesitated a second and then launched:

"Yes ... In fact I don't really want everyone to know that I am ... an orphan, so I would have liked to know if you could keep this for you?"

She felt her cheeks flush as he examined her silently.

"If that's what you want, okay. I wouldn't say anything to the teachers, except if I deem it absolutely necessary that they learn it."

It was better than nothing.

"Thank you, sir."

She took the documents he had given her and got up to leave. The corridors were empty, and she was anxious about discovering her new class. She took a deep breath and managed to remain calm before starting to walk to her room, which was on the first floor.