I found the physics classroom without trouble and stepped inside. The room was only half full, a low hum of early-morning chatter floating between desks while students drifted in at their own pace. At the front, a man with thinning hair and rectangular glasses sat behind the teacher's desk, flipping through a stack of papers with slow patience.
As I walked in, the volume shifted. Not louder exactly, just sharper. The whispers bent in my direction.
I ignored them.
The teacher looked up over the rim of his glasses. "Yes?"
"I'm the new transfer student," I said, handing him my timetable. "Samael Ashborn."
He scanned the paper before looking up. "Mr Henderson. Welcome. Tell me, how comfortable are you with physics?"
"I'm quite good at it," I replied calmly.
His brows lifted slightly, as if he expected hesitation. When none came, he simply nodded. "All right. Take a seat in the back."
Of course. The back seat. The legendary protagonist position.
I walked to the last row and sat down, setting my books neatly on the desk before letting my gaze drift to the window. From there, I had a perfect view of the parking lot. A moment later, an old orange truck rolled into view.
A faint smile touched my lips. "So my instincts were right," I murmured. "Again."
"Hey."
I turned to my right. A guy with short dark hair and lightly tanned skin leaned back in his chair, studying me without hesitation. He wasn't muscular or scrawny, just built like any regular teenager. Average height.
"I'm Peter," he said, sticking out his hand.
"Samael." I shook it.
"First day?" he asked - then grimaced. "Wow. That was genius-level deduction. Let me try again. Welcome to the circus."
"A bold rebranding for a public high school."
He gave me a slow once-over, then glanced toward the window. "You didn't exactly arrive quietly."
"Is that so?" I asked mildly. "I stand out that much?"
He snorted. "You have no idea. You drive that thing in here and expect to go unnoticed? Half the parking lot just experienced emotional damage."
"I noticed."
"Seriously, I thought the Cullens had added another luxury to the fleet." He leaned in slightly. "Turns out it's just you. Which, honestly, might be worse for everyone's blood pressure."
"They'll survive."
A slow grin spread across his face. "Okay. That's… dangerously confident. I respect it."
We started talking quietly, and I quickly realised he was easy company. No hidden agenda. No probing, just casual conversation.
"Half the parking lot almost dislocated something trying to look casual while staring at your car," he added. "It was painful to witness."
"I'm sure."
"No, I'm serious. One guy walked straight into a trash can. Didn't even break eye contact."
Before I could respond, Mr Henderson cleared his throat sharply. "Gentlemen. If your discussion involves electromagnetic fields, I invite you to enlighten the class. If not, kindly postpone it."
Peter straightened. "Sorry, sir."
A few minutes later, Mr Henderson tried to catch me off guard. Without looking at me, he directed a question across the room, something involving electromagnetic fields and vector components, phrased in a way that suggested he expected at least a pause.
I didn't give him one.
I answered calmly, breaking it down in clear terms.
Mr Henderson adjusted his glasses. "Correct."
There it was again, subtle, restrained, but clear to me. Most wouldn't have noticed it, but I could pick up the slight hormonal shift from across the room, the minute tightening in his posture, the fractionally delayed adjustment of his glasses.
With sight sharper than it needed to be and a memory that rarely failed me, I had learned to read the quiet language beneath words. People could control what they said, they could even shape their tone. But their bodies were far less disciplined, a tightened jaw, a fractional pause, a subtle shift in posture they didn't realise they'd made.
The change was slight, but unmistakable.
Not hostility.
Just a quiet edge of envy.
It wasn't strong. The Cullens had already set the standard for unfair advantages at this school - good looks paired with top-tier academics. I wasn't exactly something new.
Still, intelligence alone is manageable. Add appearance to the equation, and it becomes personal.
For a brief moment, I wondered if Mr Henderson had been very successful academically and significantly less so socially in his teenage years.
He tried again later with a more complex problem.
The result was the same.
My knowledge rested comfortably at university-professor level, but dismantling the rest of his lesson plan on day one felt unnecessary.
When the bell rang, Peter nudged me with his elbow.
"Okay, I've made a decision."
"Have you?"
"Yeah. We're exchanging numbers. I refuse to fail physics while sitting next to a walking cheat code."
"That seems pragmatic."
"It's survival," he corrected solemnly.
He reminded me a little of Stiles from Teen Wolf, quick-witted, relentlessly talkative, just less obsessed with murder boards and more into motorbikes and video games.
A nice guy.
We parted ways, and I headed to Spanish.
The moment I stepped into the classroom, I smelled it.
A strange, sweet scent.
Unmistakable.
Vampire.
An older woman stood at the front of the room, arranging papers with practised precision, the Spanish teacher. Our exchange mirrored the one from physics: introduction, confirmation, timetable check.
She looked up from the papers and scanned the classroom.
"There's an open seat next to Emmett Cullen. You can take that one."
A hand rose near the middle row.
He gave a small, almost lazy wave so I'd know who she meant.
I nodded once and walked over.
Up close, he was even broader than he had seemed in the forest.
He gave me an easy nod.
"Hey."
"Hey," I replied, taking my seat.
He didn't notice anything unusual. My scent was well masked with a carefully chosen cologne. In my other forms, it would be harder to hide, but like this, I was just another human.
After a brief silence, he spoke without looking at me.
"So you're the new celebrity."
"That was fast," I said lightly.
He huffed. "Trust me, I'm hoping you stick around. Maybe people will stare at you instead of my family for a change."
"Oh? And why do they stare at your family?"
He grinned in that easy, almost boyish way. "Our foster dad apparently has a gift for adopting kids who grow up looking unfairly good. It's a burden, really."
He squinted at me for a second. "You got vision problems or something?"
I blinked. "What makes you ask?"
He gestured vaguely toward my face. "Contacts."
"Yeah. Nothing serious. They just sharpen things up."
The truth was more complicated.
After I began absorbing life force, my eyes had shifted to a distinct shade of gold. What had once been ordinary was now far too noticeable. Golden-yellow wasn't exactly common among humans.
Lenses were the safer option.
During the lesson, the teacher called on several students to translate passages aloud. When my turn came, I answered without hesitation. The words came smoothly, with clean, steady pronunciation.
A few heads lifted.
The teacher paused for a brief moment, then gave a small nod. "Muy bien, Samael. Very good pronunciation."
"Gracias," I replied evenly.
There were a few quiet murmurs, not shock, just mild surprise. At this school, the Cullens had a reputation for speaking foreign languages fluently. Most others managed well enough, but rarely with that level of ease.
Emmett turned his head toward me, slower this time. "You said you learned Spanish a couple of years ago?"
"I did."
Emmett leaned back, shaking his head faintly. "Okay. Now I'm impressed."
The bell rang shortly after.
I gathered my books and rose from my seat. "See you around."
"Yeah," he replied, watching me now with undisguised curiosity.