"Remember, Ethan," his mother's voice had sharpened with that familiar edge of concern as they pulled up to the school, "make an effort this time. Apply yourself."
Ethan nodded absentmindedly, more focused on the butterflies rioting in his stomach than his mother's advice. The car rolled to a stop, and he opened the door, stepping out into the cool morning air that swept over Wembley Academy. Kate followed, her own apprehension mirroring his.
"First days are the worst," Kate murmured as they walked side by side, her gaze flitting around the bustling campus.
"Could be worse," Ethan tried to sound optimistic, but it rang hollow even to his own ears. He didn't have to feign his excitement about one thing, though – the photography club. It was a sliver of hope in the mundane school routine.
Kate nudged him gently, "Meet for lunch?"
He nodded, "Yeah, see ya then." Their hands brushed in a fleeting promise before they split in opposite directions.
The linear algebra classroom loomed ahead, a threshold Ethan crossed with practiced reluctance. Scanning the room for a safe haven, he aimed for an empty seat in the back when the teacher, Mr. Hargrove, called out to him.
"Mr. Prentiss, is it? A word, please."
Ethan felt every student's eyes on him as he approached the desk, the weight of their curiosity pressing down on him like a physical force.
"Welcome to Wembley Academy," Mr. Hargrove greeted him, his tone official yet not unkind. "New environment, new challenges. How are you feeling?"
"Fine," Ethan's answer came out too quick, too sharp. He didn't want to admit how out of place he felt, especially not to a teacher who couldn't possibly understand.
"Good. You'll find your rhythm here soon enough. Don't hesitate to ask for help if you need it," Mr. Hargrove assured him just as the bell rang, punctuating the start of class.
"Class," Mr. Hargrove turned, commanding attention with ease. "We have a new student today. Ethan, would you care to share a bit about yourself?"
The words stuck in his throat, a sudden lump formed as dozens of faces swiveled towards him. Ethan's pale cheeks flushed a shade pinker, a stark contrast against his sickly complexion.
"Uh, I'm Ethan," he stammered, hating the spotlight. "I like... photography."
"Excellent," Mr. Hargrove clapped his hands together, "Perhaps you can capture some moments for our class project later this year. Please, take a seat."
Retreating to the sanctuary of the last row, Ethan could feel the burn of interest from the other students. He slouched down, wishing he could disappear into the worn fabric of the chair or behind the dark curtain of his wavy hair. His mind raced - thoughts of apertures and shutter speeds were his refuge, and he couldn't wait for the day to end so he could lose himself in the pursuit of the perfect shot.
"Great, a class full of potential friends," he thought sarcastically, knowing full well his interests rarely aligned with those around him. At least in photography, there was truth - a rawness that didn't require pleasantries or small talk. If only they knew the darker parts of him, the ones that sought solace in drugs when the lens wasn't enough.
"Focus on the now," he muttered under his breath, trying to quiet the thunderous anxiety. "Just get through the day."
And with that silent mantra, Ethan Prentiss braced himself for the rest of his first day at Wembley Academy, a battleground where his only allies were a camera and the faint hope of finding where he truly belonged.
Ethan's footsteps echoed through the emptying hallways as he made his way back to his locker. The clang of lockers and the murmur of students faded behind him as he drifted past the photolab. He paused, eyes wide with wonder, pressing his face against the cool glass. Inside was a treasure trove of darkroom equipment, cameras of all shapes and sizes, and walls adorned with stunning photographs. It was an Aladdin's cave for any aspiring photographer.
"Can I help you?" The voice was sharp, breaking Ethan's trance.
Ethan jumped as a tall, lanky boy- the photography club president, Jasper- appeared in front of him. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he had a look of annoyance on his face. Ethan realized that Jasper had been watching him from across the room without him even noticing.
"Uh, sorry," Ethan stammered, his heart racing. "I'm Ethan. I just transferred here, and I'm really into photography. Saw the lab and, well..." His voice trailed off as he gestured lamely at the equipment behind Jasper.
Jasper appraised him, the annoyance softening to curiosity. "Got any work to show?"
Ethan's pulse quickened as he fished out his phone, opening the gallery to reveal a mosaic of images: shadows and light playing on urban textures, a candid of a skateboarder mid-air, the haunting stillness of a deserted playground at dusk.
"Shot these around town since I got to the States," Ethan said, hoping his work spoke the language he struggled to articulate.
Jasper's eyes flickered across the screen, nodding. "Some good angles. We're always looking for fresh perspectives. Come find me at lunch, we can talk more."
"Really?" Ethan's lips twitched into a hopeful smile, feeling a glimmer of acceptance.
"Sure, but if you're serious about joining, you'll need to commit." Jasper's tone held a challenge, one that Ethan felt ready to embrace.
"Absolutely," Ethan replied, just as the warning bell for the next period rang, ushering them away.
The clamor of the cafeteria melded into a cacophony of adolescent chaos, but Kate's world was silent save for the rustling of her skirt as she toyed with a stiff pleat. The serving line shuffled forward, an assembly line of trays and teenage appetites. Her gaze flitted anxiously over the sea of unfamiliar faces, each scan for her brother Ethan meeting only the indifferent looks of strangers.
"Pass the apples, will ya?" a girl ahead mumbled, snapping Kate back to the present. She obliged mechanically, her hand brushing against the cool skin of the fruit, and added one to her tray—a small semblance of control on this first day of tumult.
"Thanks," the girl said absently, not even glancing up from her tray.
"Welcome," Kate murmured in return, the word feeling foreign on her tongue.
With Ethan nowhere in sight, she pushed through under the fluorescent lights, her eyes lowered, evading contact. She could feel the weight of curiosity upon her—the whispers about the new girl, the twin—but Kate recoiled from it like a shadow from light, seeking refuge at an isolated table in the back where she might fade into obscurity.
"Hey, new girl." The voice sliced through the din, sharp and unexpected.
Kate looked up, her heart hammering a staccato rhythm against her ribcage as she found the source: a red-haired girl with a beckoning smile. The pit of her stomach twisted. Don't make waves, she reminded herself, Ethan's warning echoing in her head. He'd always been the protective one, despite his own struggles.
"Come sit with us," the girl urged.
"Actually, it's Kate," she corrected, her words clipped as she approached the table, the tray a shield before her. The girls made room, their curiosity palpable, and she folded into the offered space, the outsider trying to penetrate an established orbit.
"Love your accent," a tall girl with mousy-brown hair exclaimed, her gaze bright with genuine interest.
"Yours is cool too," Kate responded, the dry sarcasm veiled beneath the flatness of her tone. She didn't mean it to sound so harsh, yet her mother's absence had honed a sharp edge to her humor, a defense mechanism hard-won.
"Ours?" The confusion was evident in the wavy-haired blonde's furrowed brow as her friends traded puzzled looks.
"Never mind," Kate muttered dismissively, her voice a shield warding off further attempts at connection.
The conversation stumbled, a dance of awkward pauses and stolen glances. With every beat of silence, Kate felt the walls she'd built around herself becoming both sanctuary and prison. She shifted in her seat, her mind a battleground where kindness clashed with self-preservation. The protective walls she'd erected were necessary—weren't they? But even as she sat there, encased in her own cool detachment, a small voice whispered that maybe these barriers were also what kept her so isolated.
The girl seated directly next to Kate noticed the distant look in her new classmates eyes. Kate tapped her on the arm, pulling her from her thoughts.
"Are you okay?" She asked, in a low voice. Her smile was small but Kate could see the genuine compassion in her almond-shaped brown eyes.
"Fine," Kate lied, forcing a half-smile. "Just... processing."
"Totally get it," the girl nodded, "I'm Stacy by the way."
Kate appreciated the gesture, though it did little to bridge the gulf between them. But maybe, just maybe, if she allowed herself to lower the drawbridge just an inch, at the very least Stacy could become her ally in this strange new world.
"Where are you from again?" Stacy's question cut through the silence, pulling Kate back from her reverie.
"UK… erm, London," she answered, biting into her apple with a crunch that seemed overly loud in her ears.
"I love London," the dark-haired girl beside Stacy chirped, leaning forward with wide-eyed enthusiasm. "Can you see the Eiffel Tower from your house?"
Kate paused mid-bite, her gaze lifting to meet the girl's earnest expression. Was this some rite of passage, a test of her patience or sense of humor? She searched the faces around her for any sign of camaraderie in jest, but found none. With a slow exhale, Kate steadied herself and replied, "No, because our flat was in London and the Eiffel Tower is in Paris, France."
"But you were near Paris," the red-haired girl chimed in, her brows furrowing slightly.
"Relatively speaking… I guess," Kate conceded, feeling a strange mix of amusement and exasperation.
"If I lived in London I would go to Paris every day," the dark-haired girl mused dreamily.
Kate's lips parted, a delicate balance teetering within her. She wanted to correct the misconception, to explain the reality of geography and the impracticality of daily Channel crossings. The needling urge to correct them twisted in her gut, a familiar friend in these moments when she felt so wholly out of place.
"I don't think you would," Kate finally said, biting back the sarcasm that laced the edge of her tongue. "I'm sorry but you do realize that they are in completely different countries separated by the English Channel." Her words cut through the chatter like a scalpel—precise, cool, and perhaps too sharp.
The girls paused, forks mid-air, as if processing this new information was an unexpected task for their lunchtime. Kate could feel the weight of their stares, heavy with unspoken questions and judgments. Why did she care so much about being right? Perhaps it was the same reason she couldn't seem to connect with the strangers around her—the same reason she often felt like an observer in her own life.
With hesitation, she pushed back her chair, the screech of metal against linoleum jarring in the sudden silence. She feigned an apologetic look, though her eyes were distant, already searching for an escape route. "I just realized I need to find my brother."
She didn't wait for a response; instead, Kate scooped up the remains of her meal, the uneaten food a testament to her unsettled stomach. Stuffing her apple and sandwich into her backpack, she muttered, "Thanks for the...chat," her voice trailing off, its warmth fading into nothingness.
As she hurried away from the table, there was no backward glance, no lingering regret. The cafeteria, with its cacophony of voices and clatter, seemed to shrink behind her, a world she was all too eager to leave. The thought of Ethan drifted into her mind, his wavy dark brown hair and pale complexion, his protective streak that sometimes felt more suffocating than comforting. Would he be navigating his day with the same unease, or had he found solace in the lens of his camera, capturing the world while keeping it at arm's length?
Kate marched purposefully towards the nearest exit, briefly stopping to grab her coat from the metal locker.
Outside, the chill from the morning's snowfall nipped at her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. But it was a welcome sensation, a grounding force amidst the storm raging inside her. As she made her way towards a quiet bench, her boots crunched on the frosted grass, leaving imprints in their wake. The sky above was a cold, unforgiving gray, mirroring the turmoil within—a tempest of conflicting emotions, a longing to belong and yet an aversion to the very idea.
She pulled a book from her bag, its pages dog-eared and worn. It was a barrier, a shield against the world, and as she lost herself in the words, she could almost believe she was back in London, away from prying eyes and misplaced towers. For now, solitude was her chosen companion, and Kate was content to let the rest of the school day pass by, one silent, snowy moment at a time.
Later, after a brief but encouraging conversation with Jasper over lunch, Ethan found himself in the grip of excitement, barely containing his eagerness as he slumped in his seat for his second to last class. Chemical compounds drawn out on the board morphed into potential frames and angles for shots he yearned to capture. His gaze wandered outside, where the snow lay thick on the ground, untouched and pure, begging to be immortalized through his lens.
"Mr. Prentiss, are we keeping your attention?" The teacher's voice pulled him back, but his mind continued to stray outside the confines of the classroom.
"Sorry, yeah," he muttered, forcing his eyes back to the board, though the equations blurred into insignificance.
The bell couldn't ring soon enough, and when it finally did, Ethan didn't hesitate. He couldn't bear another minute imprisoned by walls and fluorescent lights. With a sense of urgency, he grabbed his camera from his locker, the weight of it in his hands grounding him.
"Focus on what matters," he reminded himself, stepping out into the crisp air, the school building casting long shadows on the snow. Here he was free, the quiet click of the shutter his only conversation as he captured the world as he saw it - raw, beautiful, and infinite.
Ethan's breath misted in the air, his fingers numb as he adjusted the focus on his camera, capturing the stark beauty of the winter-bare trees against the pale sky. With each click and whirr of the shutter, he felt a pulse of fulfillment—this was where he belonged, not within the drab walls of a classroom.
He rounded the corner of the school building, his sneakers crunching over the packed snow, and halted. It was Kate, her hair disheveled and her cheeks flushed from the cold. His heart skipped a beat as he approached her. "Kate?" he said in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"
She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes before quickly closing the book in her lap. He knelt down beside her, taking in her disheveled appearance and the sadness in her eyes.
"I could ask you the same question," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ethan couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. Taking a seat next to his sister, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. "This place...it's not like our old school, is it?" he asked softly.
Kate shook her head, her gaze distant. "Where did you go for lunch?" she asked, her voice laced with hurt and betrayal.
It dawned on him then what had happened. He got enthralled by his eagerness to get involved in the photography club, completely forgetting the promise he made to his sister.
Ethan squeezed Kate's shoulder, his own guilt weighing heavily on him. "I'm so sorry, Katie. I got caught up. I didn't mean to leave you all alone."
Kate sighed, her voice filled with resignation. "It's not just about today, Ethan... It's everything."
Ethan flinched at her words, understanding the validity behind them. "I might be responsible for our being here but it's not my fault you have a shit attitude about it." he responded defensively.
Kate looked at him with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "That's not what I meant."
Ethan's heart sank as he realized the depth of his sister's pain. He took a deep breath, his voice softer now. "Then what did you mean, Kate?"
She let out a shaky sigh, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm consumed by this overwhelming sense of loneliness." Her words lingered in the air like a thick fog, enveloping them both in its suffocating grip.
"Hey," Ethan squeezed her gently, feeling the weight of their move more heavily than ever. "We've got this, okay? It's just...different. But we'll find our way."
"Like you found your way out of class?" Kate attempted a smile, the corners of her lips twitching.
"Guilty as charged." He grinned back at her. "But only because I couldn't stop thinking about the photography club. It's like, when I look through that lens, everything else fades away."
"Photography might be your escape, but what do I have?" she whispered.
"Me." Ethan nudged her playfully. "And, hey, who's going to be my most honest critic if not you?"
"Still..." Her gaze fell to her hands. "I wish we could just go back."
"I know," Ethan acknowledged the ache in his chest, guilt gnawing at him. "I know, Kate. But we're here now, and we're together. That counts for something, right?"
"Sure," she said, though doubt laced her tone.
He nodded, squeezing her hand in reassurance. They fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the distant chirping of birds and the wind whistling through the tree branches above.
After a few moments, Ethan broke the quiet. "So... are you planning to tell Mum you skipped class?"
Kate's response was sharp. "Are you?"
Ethan chuckled, envisioning their mother's reaction. "Not a chance. She'd flip." He couldn't help but feel a twinge of amusement at the thought of his mother's disapproval.
Her voice echoed in his mind, the familiar tone of disappointment and disbelief ringing loud and clear. You couldn't even make it through one day, Ethan? Seriously?
Ethan's eyes sparkled with mischief as he proposed a deal. "How about we both keep quiet about what happened today?"
Kate chuckled hesitantly and agreed, "Deal. It'll be our little secret."
Sitting on the cold metal bench, Kate's shivering was interrupted by Ethan pulling her closer. The distant look in Kate's eyes deepened arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, providing warmth and comfort in the brisk air. The snowflakes danced around them, illuminated by the last rays of sunlight. Ethan felt a stirring within him, a desire to capture this fleeting beauty forever. He reached for his camera, adjusting the settings with careful precision.
"Turn towards me, Kate," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind. "I want to take your picture."
Kate hesitated, trying to shield her face from the camera. But Ethan's gentle smile and reassuring words coaxed her into letting go of her inhibitions. She turned to face him, baring her soul to the camera with an unsmiling expression that revealed the pain and vulnerability she hid within.
"You really think this is the moment you want to capture?" Kate asked softly, breaking the silence.
Ethan paused, his finger hovering over the camera's shutter button. He looked at Kate, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and curiosity. He knew what she was asking. She wanted to understand why he chose this moment, when she was still reeling from the events of the day, to capture on film.
"I do," Ethan replied, his voice laced with determination. "This moment is raw, Kate. It's real."
Kate furrowed her brow, her fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of her coat. "But why? Why would you want to remember this?"
Ethan sighed, lowering the camera and turning his full attention to his sister. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "Because, Kate, life isn't always about capturing the perfect moments. It's about capturing the imperfect ones too."