I headed to my second period, art, to se what the class was gonna be. When I walked in, the teacher seemed polite enough, though I heard her think, 'What's up with that kid?' I wasn't surprised, most teachers thought that about me when I first came into class. I took my usual seat, in the back where I could see everyone but no/one could see me etc. etc. etc., and settled in.

Mrs. June is an older, African-American woman. She has grey hair in a bun, purple glasses, an orange sweater with a leaf design, purple floor-length skirt, white shirt with a cat and moon, and moon earrings. She was bolding a 'It's Art!' mug with what I could only assume was coffee. I wondered if she had her own stash of coffee I could swipe.

As I waited, I notices a bunch of odd rules in the front. 'No taxidermy, no spiders, no snakes, no fireworks, no animal parts.' I was surprised and barely managed to stifle a laugh. 'Why would a class need rules like that?' It was ridiculous to me.

Other students were shuffling un, and soon the class was nearly full. But there was one last seat, the seat right next to me. Mrs. June smiled, seeming relieved about something.

"Greetings class, my name is Mrs. June, and today i'd-"

"I'm here! I'm here!"

A girl ran into the class. Immediately, I recognized her as one of the causes of the weird feeling I had.

She had tan skin, hazel eyes, and brown hair with hints of...purple? She wore a white and light purple striped shirt, green sweatpants, red and white shoes, a green beanie with a bi-flag pin, and a jersey for the 'Hexside Grudgeby Captain.' She didn't seem like a captain of anything. She had a scar on her left eyebrow, hints of what used to be bags under her eyes, and messy hair.

"Oh, hello Ms. Noceda."

'Noceda, as in, Luz Noceda the witch? The Luz Novedea that should have died?' My thoughts wandered to the strange girl He told me about. I'm guessing that's her. I'm also guessing she's the reason the teacher had to put those strange rules in place.

She asked, "Am I late?"

'Is she half-clocked? It's second period. Of course she's late.'

The clearly irritated teacher said with the best polite tone she could muster, "Yes, now please go find a seat."

Luz went to find a seat. Of course, the seat next to me was the only one open, so she had to sit there. As she went to her seat, she was glancing over at me. It seemed like she was debating on something. When I heard her thoughts, this only confirmed it.

'Should I talk to them, or not?'

'No, of course you shouldn't.' I kinda felt stupid answering her with my thoughts, but I just did.

She seemed to have made up her mind, as she started whispering to me while the teacher was explaining stuff.

"Hello, I'm Luz! What's your name?"

I simply responded with "Kris."

"Nice nam-wait... Kris? As in the Kris that lives in that weird house far from everyone else? The Kris who just popped out of thin air one day? You're them?"

I was tempted to joke about how she's supposed to be dead, but I decided against it. I remembered not everyone shares my sense of humor.

I just said, "Yes," with a bit of an attitude by accident.

She didn't catch on to my attitude, thankfully, but caught on to something else. "Wait, you have a silver tooth? That's so cool!"

'Great. Now she thinks's I'm cool."

I responded, "Sure, whatever," meaning for it to be humorously sarcastic. But she didn't catch on, misinterpreting it as me not liking her.

"Oh, well, okay."

'Slag, now she thinks I don't like her.'

We sat silently for the rest of the period. At least on the outside. Inside, our minds were running.

I was sizing her up, getting every bit of information I could from her appearance and our small encounter, filling in any blanks with anything He told me.

Her thoughts were telling me she was doing the same thing. Although she was way worse at it than I was. Word of advice to Luz, don't stare at someone when you're trying to discreetly size them up, it takes out the whole "discreet" part.

We sat there for a while, until class ended. The bell rang, and I shot up the moment it started ringing. I speed-walked to the exit to get to my third period, not wanting to dwell on the embarrassing encounter.