Kapitel 3: Chapter 3: New Faces and Fresh Challenges
1st POV
I sat in the vice principal's office with Hope, waiting for our schedules and assigned classes. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of an old-fashioned clock on the wall and the occasional shuffling of papers from the office next door. The smell of freshly brewed coffee from the nearby staff room mingled with the faint scent of old paper. Hope sat beside me, her eyes scanning the room with curiosity, while I leaned back in my chair, trying to stay relaxed.
As we waited, the door creaked open, and another student stepped in. She was tall, with long brown hair cascading over her shoulders and dark brown eyes that darted nervously around the room. Her clothes, though stylish, had a slightly worn look, as if they'd seen more than one move. She hesitated for a moment before approaching us, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag tightly.
Hope, ever perceptive, noticed her immediately. "Hey, you!" she called out, her voice cutting through the silence.
The girl flinched slightly but managed a response. "Y-yes?"
"My name's Hope Sinclair. What's yours?" Hope asked, her bright smile as welcoming as ever.
"Oh, it's Allison... Allison Argent," the girl replied, her voice soft but clear, though there was a hint of uncertainty.
I noticed Hope's expression falter for a split second, as if something about the name struck a chord, but she quickly recovered, her smile returning in full force.
"Cool surname," I chimed in, trying to ease the tension. "Argent in French means silver, right?"
Allison's eyes widened in surprise. "Yeah, how did you know?"
I couldn't resist a smirk. "Just because I'm big and muscular doesn't mean I'm all brawn and no brain. I know a bit of French, Japanese, and Korean—just the basics, though," I said with a casual shrug.
Allison's smile grew a bit more confident, the tension in her shoulders easing. "That's pretty impressive," she admitted.
"So, I'm guessing you're a new student too?" Hope asked, her curiosity piqued.
Allison nodded. "Yeah, I just moved here."
"Then how about we stick together?" Hope suggested, her enthusiasm contagious. "It's always easier to navigate a new place with friends."
Allison's face lit up at the offer. "I'd like that," she replied, her earlier nervousness melting away.
At that moment, the vice principal entered the room, his presence commanding immediate attention. Vice Principal Walker was a tall, thin man with a weary expression and a habit of adjusting his glasses. His office was sparsely decorated, and the only personal touch seemed to be a framed photograph of a smiling family on his desk.
"Ah, you must be the new students. I'm Vice Principal Walker, and I'll be guiding you to your classrooms today. Normally, a teacher would handle this, but we're a bit short-staffed at the moment," he said, sighing as if this was just another burden on a long list.
"Here are your schedules," Mr. Walker continued, handing us each a sheet of paper. "Take a moment to look them over, then follow me."
I glanced over my schedule quickly. Everything seemed standard, nothing out of the ordinary. Hope's and Allison's schedules seemed similarly uneventful. Once we were ready, we followed Mr. Walker down the hallway. The walls were lined with lockers, and students bustled past us, their chatter and laughter creating a lively backdrop.
As we walked, Allison broke the silence. "Do either of you have an extra pen?" she asked.
"Sure do," Hope replied without missing a beat. She rummaged through her bag and handed Allison a pen. Allison took it with a grateful smile as we continued down the hall.
Mr. Walker, trying to make small talk, turned to Allison. "So, Miss Allison, you mentioned you were from San Francisco, but that's not where you grew up?"
"No, but we lived there for more than a year, which is unusual for my family," Allison replied, a hint of something unspoken in her tone. Her gaze drifted, and I could sense there was more to her story.
"Well, hopefully, Beacon Hills will be your last stop for a while," Mr. Walker said with a nod, before turning his attention to Hope and me. "And you two are from New Orleans, correct?"
"Yes, our family has lived there for generations," Hope confirmed.
"And what prompted the sudden change?" Mr. Walker asked, curiosity laced in his voice.
"That's on me," I admitted, not bothering to sugarcoat it. "I caused some issues at our previous school, and rather than stick around and cause more problems, we decided to move."
"I trust you won't be causing any problems here, Mr. Aldric," Mr. Walker said, his tone carrying a subtle warning. I brushed off his implied threat, feeling a bit of annoyance.
"Yeah, yeah, I promise not to cause any trouble," I replied casually. Mr. Walker's gaze lingered on me for a moment, assessing, before he resumed leading us to our first class—English.
As we entered the classroom, my mind was already racing ahead to the lacrosse tryouts scheduled for tomorrow. I knew it would be a stark contrast to my days on the basketball court. The strategies and team dynamics of lacrosse were unfamiliar territory, and I wondered if my basketball skills would translate. It was a new challenge, and I was both excited and apprehensive.
The teacher's voice snapped me back to the present. "We'll begin with Kafka's Metamorphosis on page 133," she announced, pulling everyone's attention to the task at hand.
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Timeskip
As the bell rang, marking the end of our first class, Hope, Allison, and I gathered our things and headed to our lockers, which, conveniently, were right next to each other. While we were unloading our books and getting out what we needed, I noticed one of the boys from class, Scott, glancing over at us. It looked like he was particularly focused on Allison, who caught his eye and gave him a light smile. This made him blush, which was kind of amusing to watch.
At that moment, a girl approached us. She had long strawberry-blonde hair, bright green eyes, and stood about 5 foot 3 inches—the same height as Hope. She struck up a conversation with Allison and Hope.
"That jacket is absolutely killer. Where did you get it?" she asked, clearly impressed.
"My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco," Allison answered with a small smile.
The girl then turned to Hope. "And that layered top looks amazing on you."
"Thanks! That blue dress really complements your hair and eyes nicely," Hope replied, her enthusiasm evident.
"You two are my new best friends," the girl—Lydia, if I remember right—announced with a grin.
Just then, a guy walked over and wrapped his arms around Lydia's waist, pulling her close. The public display of affection made both Allison and Hope look a bit uncomfortable, but I didn't really care. Public displays didn't bother me much. Besides, I'd seen worse back home in New Orleans.
The guy was about six feet tall with a lean, muscular build and perfectly styled blond hair. His blue eyes were striking, and he had an air of confidence that made it clear he was used to getting attention. He was the kind of guy who made an entrance, and it was obvious he and Lydia were a pair.
I sized him up automatically, a habit I'd picked up from years of sports. He was fit, sure, but there was something in the way he carried himself that made me think he was more interested in being the star than being a team player. Jackson, I remembered. Lydia's boyfriend, and apparently the captain of the lacrosse team.
Jackson turned toward me, a casual smirk on his face, and asked a question I'd heard too many times before. "Don't take this the wrong way, but do you take steroids? 'Cause you're just too big."
"Yeah, where do you get your juice?" Jackson added, his tone more curious than accusatory.
I sighed internally, reminding myself to stay cool. It wasn't the first time someone had assumed I was juicing just because I was big. "Believe it or not, I'm not on steroids. This is all just genetics and hard work," I replied, keeping my tone neutral.
Jackson nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer, but Lydia wasn't done. "Oh, then do you play any sports?" she asked.
"Well, I was the best player on the basketball team back home," I said, remembering the endless hours I'd spent on the court. Coach back home had begged me to be team captain, but I'd refused. Too much responsibility, I'd said, but the truth was I didn't want to be tied down.
Jackson's smirk returned. "The major sport here is lacrosse. We've won the state championship for three straight years," he said, his tone tinged with pride.
Lydia looked up at him with adoration in her eyes as she ruffled his hair. "Thanks to a certain team captain," she added, making Jackson smirk smugly at the compliment.
Jackson then turned to me, his gaze more appraising. "You should try out for the lacrosse team. Coach would love to have a guy like you, and we need more strong players," Jackson said, surprising me a little. He seemed like the kind of guy who wouldn't want anyone to outshine him, but maybe being team captain meant he had to think about the team first.
"Yeah, sure, why not? Might as well, not like I have anything better to do," I replied in a dry tone, shrugging. I wasn't particularly attached to the idea, but it could be a good way to fit in around here.
Lydia perked up again and asked, "This weekend there's gonna be a party. You guys wanna come?" She directed the question at all of us, but it was clear she was hoping for a positive response.
Hope and I exchanged glances, silently gauging each other's interest, while Allison looked a bit confused. "Party? Party for what and when?" Allison asked.
"It's for after the scrimmage, and it's on Friday night. You should come," Jackson replied, his tone almost persuasive.
Allison hesitated before replying, "Oh, I can't. It's family night Friday, so I can't come. Thanks for asking, though." Both Lydia and Jackson looked disappointed, but they quickly shifted their attention to me and Hope.
"I'm free, so why not? What about you, Hope? Wanna join me?" I asked, looking at Hope for her answer.
"Sure, why not?" she replied with a smile. I could tell she was excited about the idea, probably looking forward to meeting more people.
Jackson glanced down at his expensive watch and said, "Well, we have practice in a few minutes, so let's get going. I think Coach has some extra gear, so you don't have to worry about that," he added, looking at me.
"Sure, lead the way," I responded.
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Jackson led me to the locker room while Lydia and Hope headed toward the field. The school was larger than I expected, with students milling about, some in groups, others rushing to their next class. There were a few glances thrown my way, likely because of my size and the fact that I was new. I was used to it, though—it came with the territory.
As we neared the locker room, the chatter of the students faded, replaced by the hustle and bustle of the teens inside, getting ready for practice. Jackson led me to the coach's office, which was tucked away inside the locker room. It was a small office, nothing particularly special about it.
"Coach!" Jackson called out as we approached. A tall, middle-aged man with a stern expression and a whistle hanging around his neck turned to face us.
"This is Coach Finstock," Jackson introduced him. "Coach, this is Lucian. He's interested in trying out for the team."
Coach Finstock looked me up and down, his gaze assessing. "Jackson, where the hell did you find this hulking behemoth?" Coach said, laughing excitedly.
"With him on the field as a defender, nobody would be getting past him," Coach added, clearly impressed.
"So, you have any experience in sports?" he asked me.
I met his gaze, unflinching. "Yeah, played basketball and was pretty good at it," I replied.
Coach Finstock nodded, seemingly satisfied with my response. "Good. We'll see what you've got. Jackson, get him some gear."
Jackson led me to the equipment room, where he handed me a helmet, shoulder pads, and a stick. The other players were eyeing me, sizing me up. I could feel their curiosity, maybe even a bit of apprehension. I was used to being the new guy, but there was always that initial tension when stepping into a new team dynamic.
Once I was ready, Jackson and I headed back to the field. Hope and Allison had taken seats on the bleachers, watching the players with interest. Lydia was chatting with them, but she threw a quick glance in our direction as we returned.
As we approached the field, I could feel the familiar buzz of adrenaline start to kick in. Coach moved to the bleachers and shouted at one of the boys—it was Scott, the same guy who'd been eyeing Allison earlier. Coach told him he was on goal.
"But Coach, I've never played before," Scott protested, sounding more than a little nervous.
"I know—scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost. It's a first-day-back thing," Coach explained before smacking Scott lightly on the cheek with the palm of his hand. "Get 'em energized! Fired up!"
Scott looked at Coach with a bit of fear and asked, "What about me?"
"Just try not to get any to the face," Coach replied, dismissing his concern.
The coach turned toward the field to start the tryouts, shouting, "Let's go! Come on!"
Scott hesitated for a moment before moving toward the goal. I noticed his gaze drift toward Lydia's group, specifically at Allison, just as Coach blew the whistle. Scott flinched in pain, which struck me as odd. Was he that nervous?
I lined up behind Jackson, with several other boys in front of us, all eager to show dominance over Scott. The competitive atmosphere was thick, the kind of tension that only comes with high school sports. The first boy threw the ball at Scott, who, to everyone's surprise—including mine—managed to catch it. His friend, Stiles, yelled out support from the sidelines.
Scott caught five more balls in quick succession, impressing everyone watching. There was something strange about it, though. The guy seemed almost too good for someone who claimed to have never played before.
Jackson, clearly fed up with Scott showing him up, skipped the line and prepared to make his move. He ran toward Scott, stopping just short of him, and launched the ball with a spin. But even then, Scott caught it, triggering a chorus of cheers from the bleachers.
Finally, it was my turn. I could feel the eyes on me, waiting to see what I could do. I took a deep breath, then ran at full speed like a bull out of hell. When I reached the right spot, I twisted my upper body and shot with all my might. The ball flew toward Scott, who tried to catch it, but the speed and spin of the ball caught him off guard, allowing me to score.
Multiple screams erupted from behind me and the bleachers. I turned around, feeling a rush of satisfaction. Coach came over and gave me a pat on the back, grinning. "First line," he said, confirming my spot on the team.
Jackson gave me a nod of acknowledgment, though I could see the intensity in his eyes. It was a mix of respect and something else—maybe a hint of rivalry. His gaze then shifted to Scott, who was still standing in the goal, looking a bit dazed.
I looked toward the bleachers and saw Hope smiling brightly, celebrating with the girls. That made me smile too. It was good to see her happy here.
I headed back to the lockers to get changed, feeling the weight of the day's events starting to settle in. Joining the team was just the beginning, and I had a feeling that fitting in here might be more complicated than I initially thought.
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Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein