Doomsday

The journey only takes us ten minutes, but I can feel my heart thumping non-stop, beating a tattoo against my chest. I don't know why I'm so nervous. I've moved around a lot as a child, but I haven't ever been quite so worried about my first day. The way Adam described the people there… am I scared of being judged? Being invisible? Looked down upon? It wouldn't be anything new – I'm quite used to that treatment, to be honest, and I prefer it to being in the spotlight. But drawing attention is going to be inevitable, especially in such a small town. Here, basically all the married couples were childhood sweethearts and everyone was friends since kindergarten. I can tell that they don't get many newcomers. I've already attracted a few curious looks the last time I went out, to the local supermarket to get some food. The cashier asked me what my name was as she waited for me to enter my pin, and the woman behind me started interrogating me about my parents and my whole bloody life whilst stuffing a dummy in the mouth of her bawling two-year-old son.

No, that's not it. And although I'm trying to find another viable explanation, the actual reason that is causing my heart to pummel against my ribs is as clear as day and way too embarrassing to admit. I'm scared... of seeing him. What if he doesn't talk to me or even acknowledge me? What if he does talk to me? Something tells me he's definitely one of the popular boys – with a beautiful girlfriend in the mix, no doubt, plus a bunch of too-hot guys as friends, too.

I lean my head against the warm window as I listen to the incessant bickering taking place between Michaela and Adam. The way they squabble about the tiniest, most trivial things is both endearing and annoying, and although I know Michaela loves to get under his skin and tease him mercilessly, I can tell, equally as clearly, that he doesn't mind one bit. He even likes it, judging by his brighter than sunshine laugh whenever she does it. If I didn't know that they were just friends, I'd fully expect them to be together; the kind of couple that everyone would be hugely envious of – what they have is so easy, and never in my life have I had a relationship like that with anyone, much less a boy; I'd definitely be harbouring more than a little bit of jealousy towards her if that was the case. However, seeing as that's not the case, I don't have to worry about making a mistake and revealing my almost-crush on Adam.

Almost-crush, I hear you ask? Well, I'm certain that I don't completely fancy him right now – I mean, I hardly know the guy. But he's so sweet and kind, not to mention totally hot; I'm fairly sure that that feeling is not far off, especially once I get to know him. My parents would love him; it would be difficult for anyone not to, really.

I feel my stomach drop as we approach the school; it practically appears out of nowhere. It's a big, imposing building of steel, brick and glass; rectangular, modern and reeking of money – or maybe that's just me. In front of the main entrance is a car park, and around the building are vast expanses of field. I spot a running track and some bleachers, and a large spectator's stand surrounding a pitch of some kind.

Adam turns into the car park, the Camaro's engine coughing and sputtering like a child with a cold. He reverses painstakingly slowly into the empty space furthest away from the entrance. Cursing loudly as the rear light hits the pole, he resorts to asking Michaela to get out so she can direct him into the space.

"Okay, okay," she says, getting out and standing behind the car, gesturing for him to reverse. He haltingly reverses and she signals for him to keep going, but he gets too confident. He presses down too hard on the pedal, not looking in the wing mirror when she holds up her hand to tell him to stop.

"Ada – " I begin, about to tell him to stop, but I'm a little too late. She lets out an ear-splitting shriek as he almost rams into her, the bumper just grazing her stomach. I gasp slightly, and swivel in my seat.

"What, what?!" he shouts frantically, rolling down the window and sticking his head out to look behind. "What happened?"

"I'll tell you what happened." She squeezes out from behind the car and marches to the back door, reaching inside to get her bags. "You almost ran me over, you idiot."

"Sorry," he groans.

"Sorry wouldn't cut it if you had crushed me against the wall, would it?" she snaps, hoisting her bag up onto her shoulder.

He grimaces at me before getting out the car and hurrying over to her. I shake my head at him, hiding a smile, and gather up my things to get out. I close the door and watch their exchange, trying not to let any sound resembling a laugh escape me lest I have to face the wrath of Michaela.

"I'm sorry," he says earnestly. "You know I didn't mean to almost kill you." He wraps her in a quick hug and she squeals, whacking his arms with one hand while the other, almost involuntarily, wraps around his neck. Her eyes widen and she lets go suddenly, stepping back hurriedly as if she was caught doing something wrong. She laughs it off when Adam raises his eyebrows at her, and instead bounds up to me and grabs my hand.

"C'mon Cammie, let's go," she smiles, but she still looks unsettled, which I don't understand. Why did a hug get her so worked up? I shrug slightly and chuckle at the bemused expression on Adam's face as he pushes up his glasses. As we walk past him, Michaela mumbles softly, "Apology accepted," before promptly smacking him on the head. I turn and catch him grinning at her retreating back, relieved and rubbing his head, and I glance at her to see a small, chewed-off grin curling her lips.

"Okay, stop smiling. It's the first day of school, be depressed with me please," I say, only half-joking. She gives me a startled look and brings her hands to her lips, as if she wasn't aware she was smiling, but before I can question her, she replies.

"Alright, alright," she says, dragging a hand across her face in the pretence of wiping it clean of all emotion. "Let's be depressed together."

As we approach the entrance, I can make out tall automatic glass doors, and through them, I can just spot a large reception area with an enormous desk. The doors are sparkling in the sunshine, partially obscured by the haggle of teenagers grouped in front of them and on the steps, milling around and presumably waiting for the bell to ring. There are so many people: all of them chattering away, tapping away on huge touchscreens and gossiping about who-knows-what. My stomach plunges and swoops, and I find myself involuntarily looking for a familiar dark head, before I catch myself. I'd rather I didn't see him – that means he won't see me, right?

"You okay?" Michaela asks, looking at me shrewdly.

"Just a little nervous," I mumble.

"Don't be," she says kindly, nudging me softly on the shoulder. "You'll be fine, I'm sure of it."

"Thanks," I say, feeling some of the tension melt away from my shoulders at the thought that I am not alone today: what would I have done if I hadn't met Adam? If I hadn't met Michaela? I almost shudder at the thought, despite the warm weather.

"Right," I hear her say. "First thing we'll have to do is go to the office, after the bell – "

A loud ringing interrupts her, piercing and shrill. She closes her eyes for a second in exasperation. "I hate that bell, you know that?" she mutters. I watch as the swarm of students move through the doors, hearing the muffled shouts of the pushed and the shoved as people all but fight to get past. I turn back to Michaela and she pulls me away to wait for the stampede to pass.

"Anyway, we'll go to the office now and collect your timetable and all your other stuff," she says. "Hopefully you'll be in the same homeroom as me so I don't have to suffer through it on my own."

"You don't have it with Adam?"

"Nope, or else I wouldn't be complaining about the sheer lack of normal, sane people, would I?" she laughs drily.

"Of course," I snort.

"And once you've got everything, I'll help you find your locker so you can dump some of your stuff, and it'll give me an excuse to miss homeroom if by some sad chance you aren't in it. Then, off we go to lessons!" The last sentence is dripping with mock enthusiasm, practically oozing the stuff, and I grin.

"Don't sound too happy about it."

"Come on," she responds, dragging out the 'on'. "We've got places to be! And you don't want to be late on your first day."

"Lead the way," I say amusedly. "What about Adam?" I ask as she pulls my arm.

"Oh, he'll find his way," she says, rolling her eyes.

xxxxx

"Are you sure that's the right number?"

"Locker 528," I read off the laminated paper in my hand. "Yep, as perfectly sure as the last five times I've told you."

"Okay, put that sass back in the bag, Cam. We'll find it."

"Really?" I ask sceptically. "We've been looking for the past twelve minutes and so far, we haven't even found locker 500."

"That stupid map doesn't even help," she grumbles.

"Let's just find it later, okay? At least you're in my homeroom." I wiggle my eyebrows.

"Correction: you're in my homeroom."

"Either way, we're a bit late."

"I was counting on skipping it, you know, now you've just ruined my whole Morning Plan."

"Oh really? And what did your 'Morning Plan' consist of?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

"I hadn't got to that part yet," she mumbles.

Michaela leads the way while I trail behind her, taking in the endless corridors and the few displays on the walls, with posters ranging from last year's Winter Formal to a picture of the most recent debate team. Suffice to say, that is one of the clubs I will not be joining. I can't debate – or, for that matter, do any sort of public speaking – to save my life.

Luckily, we aren't too late, as the teacher hasn't even arrived yet, so we manage to slip in unnoticed while the rest of the room is a babble of noise and raucous laughter. But as we make our way towards the row of empty seats on the far side of the room, the noise dies down and I feel almost every pair of eyes turn towards me. My steps falter, and my cheeks flood with heat as I pull self-consciously on the hem of my t-shirt, wishing I'd worn something slightly more, shall we say… en vogue.

I finally get to my seat, relief seeping into my veins as I collapse on the chair and turn to Michaela for help. I notice everyone turn away and start muttering, and slowly the volume builds back up. She just rolls her eyes.

"Ignore it, we just haven't had anyone new for years, so a lot of people are going to be looking at you like some zoo exhibition. Better get used to it," she shrugs.

"Right… should be easy."

"Don't worry, Cammie. Seriously, you'll be fine. People will be queuing up to get you in their stupid cliques, mark my words."

"Huh, well let's hope this isn't like a high-school movie then, right?" I force a weak laugh.

"Seriously?" she asks, and I can practically sense the eye-roll coming my way.

I'm spared the embarrassment of replying when the door opens and an impossibly short woman walks in. The class instantly quietens. She has iron grey hair pulled into a tight coil in the middle of head, not a single hair escaping, and is wearing an ankle-length bottle-green corduroy skirt that should be made illegal, plus an ill-fitting mustard yellow blouse. It strains against her stomach and the colour combination makes my eyes water. I give a sideways glance at Michaela and she just shakes her head, obviously trying not to burst out laughing.

"I expect you all to be silent when I walk in!" the woman snaps. Her voice is exactly like a child trying to imitate a witch: croaky, high-pitched and downright weird.

She stares around the room for too long, and stares at countless members of the room relentlessly before turning to sit at her desk. She opens up the registration page on her desktop and still, no one has uttered a sound. She begins the process of calling out everyone's names, and I dread the moment when she reaches mine. She calls out a Jonas Anderson first: a bespectacled, skinny boy with thick black hair, who responds with a quiet 'here'. I match up people's names to their faces as I attempt to ignore the fact she's getting closer to my name. But of course, I can't stop time, and she reaches 'M' on the alphabetically ordered list eventually.

"Cameron Morgan."

"H-here," I stutter. Everyone's eyes swivel towards me yet again, and I automatically lean back in my seat.

"You're new," the teacher states matter-of-factly. "I am Mrs Boman."

The first thing that passes through my mind when she tells me her name is that I feel sorry for her husband. Then, she continues before I can zone out.

"And you have come here from…?"

"Um… Detroit." She stares at me along with everyone else before turning back to the register and letting me breathe again. What is her problem? Everyone begins to whisper as soon as the register is finished, and I have no trouble discerning what the topic of conversation is about.

Mrs Boman gets up suddenly and leaves in a whoosh of corduroy skirts, without so much as a good day. I look at Michaela, confused, but she just points at the clock, and as if on cue, the bell rings.

"It's weird – that woman always knows exactly when it's going to ring."

First period starts at twenty past nine, so I have five minutes to find my AP Chemistry class. Such a great first lesson of the year, no? I bid Michaela goodbye as she goes to her Literature class and hurry towards the second floor, terrified of losing my way. The corridors are already beginning to fill up with people, and I don't want to get caught in the throng.

Thankfully, the door numbers are much easier to follow than the non-logical locker numbers, and I find Lab 15 just in time for the start of lessons bell. I check and double check the number to make sure I'm at the right place, before I walk inside, scanning the room for a familiar face – namely Adam – or at least an empty seat away from the stares people are already starting to give me. When are they going to learn that I am just a very unexceptional human being?

I spot a lone seat by the window, near the front of the class which everybody seems to be avoiding like the plague. As I take in the array of people already seated, I'm fast beginning to feel like an ugly duckling in the midst of beautiful swans: it doesn't help that basically every girl is prettier than pretty.

The teacher hasn't arrived yet, which seems to be a thing for the teachers here, so I busy myself with taking out my pencil case and an empty notebook and, for lack of anything better to do, start doodling on the first page. I need to go out and paint something – I feel like I haven't touched my brushes in years.

As I'm sketching, I notice a sudden lull in conversation. I look up curiously, expecting the teacher, and hastily shut my notebook in case it is. A lot of people are craning their necks to get a better look at whoever it is, and I can't fully make them out over the sea of heads. As far as I can tell, it isn't the teacher, so I go back to my drawing, expecting everyone to shut up. But then, the mutters increase tenfold, gradually buzzing and getting louder and louder. I snap my notebook shut in frustration to see who the hell is causing such a commotion, stuffing my pencil in my pencil case and looking up irritably.

My heart drops to the squeaky laminate flooring.

There, striding purposefully towards me, with his trademark smirk in place and tousled hair to boot, is Zachary Goode.

A/N So, what did you think? I quite liked writing this chapter, I feel like you get to see a lot more of Michaela and Adam's relationship in it. Hmm... wonder why she was 'unsettled' after Adam hugged her? Who knows... *evil grin*
Please remember to review and tell me your thoughts! I'll endeavour to reply to every single one, and even if I ever forget again, just remind me and I'll make sure to do it. :)

BooksLover2000: Pretty awkward, yeah haha.

Indigoandvioletskies: Thank you! I try ;) ADAM IS SO CUTE I KNOW haha I'm serious too, and I shall neever tire of anyone saying my babe creation is cute ;) You're such an amazing reviewer and reader, thank ya! xxx

fanficlover4602: Thank you :) I love the freaking out, be a freak-outer, it motivates me hehe.

TiggerMorgan: That would have been such a good idea! Oh well, you can PM me if I ever forget, okay, please? Haha anyway, thank you! Her dropping the keys moment was so Csmmie, whyyy? don't you think? Haha :P

Guest: Thank you! Oh dear, I need to make Zach more lovable! I do love Adam, but we need Zach love too ;) I will sure as hell keep updating!

LifeIsGoode: Will do! And can I just say... I love your username.

HippieGuru: That is probably the best thing I've ever read: 'far out brussel sprout', that's awesome hahah. Ignore me, I don't know why I find it so funny... Thank you, that's very nice of you! I have de skillz yahhh.

Sunniva Steiner: Don't worry about it! Thanks for this one! I know, poor Zach :( This wasn't soon but... I hope it's good enough to outweigh the lateness? xxx

lovewords: Awww, thank you! I hope you liked the school! And I know, everyone is saying that haha, I think people prefer Adam to Zach actually! But then again... who can blame them ;) he too CUTE. You are super amazing too hehe, thank you! Super sorry for late update though, definitely wasn't soon.

TheAsylumEscapee: Thank you! Zach is Zach, what can I say, haha. Glad you like it so far, and a kitchen chapter should soon be coming up :)

NuhaXGoode: Haha thank you, and we shall seeeee...

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR ASDFGHJKL REVIEWS, SERIOUSLY, THANK YOU SO MUCH.