Chapter 1: Chapter 1 - Beginnings
Dorian Grey trudged through the crowded halls of Oakridge High School, his backpack slung over one shoulder and a weary expression etched onto his face. As I glanced into the windows lining the hallway, I caught a glimpse of my reflection—a figure neither remarkable nor particularly memorable. My long blonde hair, tied up in a bun to conceal its length, drew unwanted attention, cascading past my shoulders when let loose. People always seemed to stare, making me uncomfortable in my own skin. Yet, despite the unconventional appearance, I couldn't find anything inherently repulsive about myself. Alongside my hair, my eyes were a cool shade of blue, not piercingly bright but rather subtly cloudy, and my expression bore the stoic demeanor my mom often attributed to a "resting bitch face" inherited from my dad. But to me, it was just my normal look.
Lost in my thoughts and distracted by my reflection, I inadvertently collided with someone in the hallway. "I'm sorry," I muttered hastily, avoiding eye contact as I hurried past, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Seeking refuge, I ducked into the Science/Computer Lab, a haven within Oakridge High known for the eerie rumors that swirled around it. According to the tales passed down from the seniors to the freshmen, back in the 1990s, a teacher had descended into madness, obsessively ranting about the imminent dangers of technology and the need to save everyone before it was too late. Then, one day, he and his entire class vanished without a trace—a chilling tale that lingered like a ghostly presence within the school's history. Despite hearing the story numerous times, I remained skeptical, dismissing it as nothing more than a spooky legend meant to entertain.
The Science/Computer Lab was the only place in the school where I felt truly at ease. I settled into an empty chair in the corner, next to the outdated PC provided by the school. As I began to set up my experiments, the door swung open, and the teacher, Mrs. Johnson, entered, her disapproving gaze fixing upon me.
Mrs. Johnson was a formidable figure, with her sharp features and no-nonsense demeanor. Her graying hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her piercing gaze seemed to see right through me. Despite her stern exterior, I had a soft spot for her, as she was not only my science/computer teacher but also someone I considered a mentor. We had shared many conversations about technology and its potential, and she had always encouraged my curiosity.
"Dorian Grey, what are you doing here? You should be in your first period class," she scolded, her voice tinged with irritation. I scrambled for an explanation, trying to reassure her that everything was under control, but as I spoke, wisps of smoke began to emanate from the back of the PC. With a sense of urgency, I rushed to unplug it, the smell of burnt circuits filling the air.
As I hurriedly unplugged the overheated PC, Mrs. Johnson's stern expression softened with concern. She rushed to my side, her eyes scanning the smoking machine.
"It seems we have a little overload here. You must have been running quite the simulation. Once again…"
I nodded sheepishly, feeling a rush of embarrassment for causing such a commotion. "Yes, I was experimenting with protein folding simulations. I guess I got carried away."
Mrs. Johnson's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Well, it's commendable that you're pushing the boundaries of our equipment, but next time, let's be a bit more mindful, shall we? This would be the second work order this month I have had to fill out and let's just say Principal Kelgrove is not very happy with me."
Feeling chastened, I nodded in agreement, mentally berating myself for my carelessness. Mrs. Johnson sighed, patting me gently on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Dorian. We'll get this sorted out. For now, let's fill out a repair order and get you off to your first period class."
As Mrs. Johnson began to fill out the paperwork, I couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at me. I followed Mrs. Johnson out of the lab, resolving to be more responsible in the future.
Exiting the Science/Computer Lab, I made my way to my first period math class. As I entered the math room, the familiar sights and sounds of equations being scribbled on the whiteboard greeted me, along with the disapproving gaze of my math teacher, Mr. Thompson.
Mr. Thompson was an older man, with a stern but kind demeanor. He wore a neatly stitched brown vest over his shirt and tie, giving him a distinguished air. His gray hair was cropped short, and his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he surveyed the classroom with authority.
"You're late, Dorian," he said sternly, his voice cutting through the subdued murmurs of the classroom.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Thompson," I mumbled, taking my seat at the back of the room, hoping to avoid any further attention.
As Mr. Thompson resumed his lesson on algebraic equations, I tried to focus on the task at hand, but my mind kept drifting back to the events of the morning.
As Mr. Thompson resumed his lesson on algebraic equations, I tried to focus on the task at hand, but my mind kept drifting back to the events of the morning. The weight of my mistake hung heavy on my shoulders, a constant reminder of my carelessness, but I refused to let it define me.
Throughout the rest of the day, I pushed aside the nagging doubts and focused on my studies. In each class, I made a conscious effort to participate and engage, determined to prove to myself that I was capable of overcoming any obstacle.
At lunchtime, I found solace in the quiet solitude of the cafeteria, a cavernous space filled with rows of worn-out tables and mismatched chairs. The air was thick with the scent of greasy fries and stale sandwiches, mingling with the sound of laughter and chatter that echoed off the drab, gray walls.
I sat alone at a secluded table tucked away in a dimly lit corner, my tray of untouched food sitting before me like a forgotten relic. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead cast long shadows across the linoleum floor, creating an eerie atmosphere that matched the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
But my solitude was short-lived, as two jocks, towering over me with menacing grins, approached. Their presence loomed over me like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over the little semblance of peace I had managed to find.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Dorian the loser," one of them sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.
I swallowed hard, feeling a surge of fear and anger rise within me. I knew these two bullies well—they had made it their mission to torment me at every opportunity. But today, I was determined not to let them get the best of me.
Ignoring their taunts, I rose from my seat and made my way to the restroom, seeking refuge from their cruel words. Alone in the dimly lit bathroom, I allowed myself a moment of vulnerability, the tears of frustration and anger streaming down my cheeks.
But as the tears dried and the storm within me subsided, I felt a renewed sense of determination take hold. Wiping away the remnants of my tears, I straightened my shoulders and squared my jaw, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
Exiting the restroom, I made my way to my next class, the echoes of the bullies' taunts fading into the background. In math class, I took my seat at the back of the room, ignoring the disapproving gaze of Mr. Thompson as he chastised me for being late.
As the lesson began, I focused all of my energy on the task at hand, determined to prove to myself that I was capable of rising above the challenges that life threw my way. And as the final bell rang, signaling the end of classes, I felt a sense of pride wash over me.
Boarding the bus home, I settled into my seat and let out a sigh of relief, grateful for the sanctuary that awaited me at the end of the journey. With each passing mile, the troubles of the day faded into the distance, replaced by a sense of peace and tranquility.
And as I stepped off the bus and approached the front door of my home, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the love and support that surrounded me. With a smile on my face, I pushed open the door and stepped inside, ready to leave the worries of the outside world behind and embrace the warmth and comfort of home.