Before I got a chance to reply to that, the classroom door opened. Everyone watched as the teacher came back in.

He eyed the board, looking at Kaz's handwriting. "Casimir, this is your work?"

"That it is, Sternberg," Kaz said.

"That's Mr. Sternberg to you," he said, curling his lip in disgust. "Stop by my desk at the end of class for your detention slip."

Kaz spread his hands. "I'm trying to spark a discussion. It's a quote from Paradise Lost."

"I don't care what it's a quote from." Mr. Sternberg picked up the eraser and wiped at Kaz's words. He scribbled the assignment back on the board and glared out at the class. "Everyone get to work. No talking."

I looked around as everyone pulled out a book, flipping through it and beginning to write. Mr. Sternberg was seated at his desk, looking through a stack of papers.

"Hey," I whispered to Pete. "What's the book?"

"I said no talking!" Mr. Sternberg barked. "Or would you like to join Casimir in detention?"

"I don't have a book, sir," I said. Oh god I hated when people yelled at me. For someone whose natural response to 90% of everything was "fight me", I cried way too easily.

I looked around as everyone stopped writing. They were all looking at Kaz with anxious expressions. Oh god, what now?

Mr. Sternberg got up and grabbed something out of his desk. He came over and slapped down a book on my desk before sitting back down.

I picked up the book and had to choke back laughter. Was this really my freaking life now?

"New Testament - Psalms Proverbs" was written across the cover of the book in gold lettering. I flipped it open and my eyes scanned over the passages.

I glanced around the room again, but kids were back to writing in their notebooks. Kaz was scribbling something on a piece of paper, which he folded and slipped to Pete.

Pete unfolded the note after checking to make sure Mr. Sternberg wasn't paying attention. He read whatever was written there and gave a slight nod at Kaz, slipping the paper into his pocket.

I checked the instructions on the board and began to work on the assignment, which was to pick a passage from the book and write my thoughts on it. The class was eerily silent, everyone keeping their heads down as they worked. Mr. Sternberg, when he was finished looking through the papers, watched us like a hawk.

The bell rang a while later and everyone got up. Kaz walked up to Mr. Sternberg's desk and held out his hand. Mr. Sternberg slapped a detention slip into it.

"Thanks, Sternberg. The room could use a little confetti to make it more cheerful," Kaz said, tearing the paper to little shreds and sprinkling them across the floor.

"Casimir!" Mr. Sternberg yelled as Kaz grinned and slipped out of the room. Mr. Sternberg clenched his fists, glaring at the torn slip on the floor with hatred.

Someone bumped my shoulder and I looked up at Pete. He gave me a sympathetic look.

"Shit Killian, I don't know who's going to break you first; the teachers, or Kaz," he said. "Good luck, newbie."

He left the room and I watched him go in shock. What the hell? What had I done?

The other kids carefully avoided me as they left the room. I checked my schedule and left the room as well, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach.

Was playing tonsil hockey with a cute guy really worth all this trouble? My brain screamed hell no, but a part of me located farther down screamed hell yea.

I found the next classroom and walked in, realizing that it was pretty much all of the same kids from my last class. They didn't stare at me this time, though. They were clustered around Kaz, whispering.

"Hey, newbie, what landed you in Conversion Academy?" a girl asked, perched on Kaz's desk.

"My name is Killian," I said, standing awkwardly since I didn't know where to sit. "And that's none of your business."

"I don't have a book, sir," the girl mocked. "So you can be sassy to us but not to the bastards who run this place?"

"I'm not trying to get detention on my first day," I said, hating the defensive tone my voice was taking on. I'd never been in trouble before at school. Well, that was a lie. I'd gotten sent to the principal's office in the second grade for singing "I see London, I see France, I see Taylor's underpants" (Taylor called me a pervert right up until my parents shipped me off to this hell on earth- god, you mock a girl's underwear when you're seven years old and you never live it down).

"Don't bother with him, Cara. Just let the teachers break him," Kaz said. He looked at me and gave me a lazy grin. "And trust me, newbie. The teachers will break you so damn fast."

'You're just a ray of sunshine, aren't you?" I said.

"I forgot how innocent the newbies are before their spirits are crushed," Pete said, tipping back in his chair and propping his feet against his desk.

"This place can't be that bad!" I said, but it was more to cheer myself up. I mean, really, how awful could the teachers here be? Maybe Kaz just had a bad experience with them because he was a total jackass.

"How precious that innocence is," Cara said with a long sigh.

Kaz shrugged. "Fine, newbie. Don't take our word on it. You'll learn on your own time."

A teacher walked into the class and glared at the students still surrounding Kaz. He cleared his throat loudly and glared harder when they all ignored him.

"Students!" he barked, snapping a ruler against an unoccupied desk.

This caught their attention. They all scatted to their seats, not looking at the teacher.

He noticed me. "Are you the new student?"

"Yes, sir," I said, resisting the urge to say something sarcastic. No shit I was the new kid.

"Have a seat there," he said, gesturing to an empty desk towards the back.

I moved and took the seat, watching as the teacher made his way to the front of the room. I quickly checked my schedule for his name. Mr. Miller.

Mr. Miller eyed an empty desk next to Kaz, his expression darkening. Kaz watched him with an easy, expectant smile.

"Looks like there's one less waste of space here today," Mr. Miller said, not bothering a glance to Kaz. He picked up small packets and slammed them down on each individual desk with unnecessary force. I winced as the packet was slapped onto my desk, and Mr. Miller's lips curled into a small, satisfactory grin. I watched as he finished passing out the packets, the other students carefully composed and unflinching.

"Work on these. Whatever isn't done by the end of class is homework. Absolutely no talking. Keep your eyes on your own paper. Hands don't leave your desks for any reasons. If I see one more cell phone, I'm going to stomp on it," Mr. Miller said, picking up a ruler off of his desk and lightly slapping it against his open palm. "Get to work. Anyone who fails this assignment will have to attend an afterhours session."

Kids bent their heads and began to work. I copied them, reading through the questions and feeling infinite relief when I actually understood what was going on for the most part.

I began to write out my answers, hating the tense silence of the room. It felt like a war was about to break out in here. Talk about the quiet before the storm.

Was this going to be my life now? Strict teachers and asshole classmates? All because boys were hot. My life was such a nightmare sometimes.

My head snapped up at the sound of a sharp slapping noise ringing through the room. Mr. Miller stood over Kaz's desk, his ruler pressed against the surface of the desk.

"Casimir," he snarled, spitting out the name like it was the most disgusting word he'd ever said in his life. "What did I say about hands?"

"Couldn't tell you, Miller. I tend to zone out when you drone on and on with all your pointless rules," Kaz said. His hands were currently folded behind his head as he leaned back in his chair.

"Right hand on the desk, Casimir," Mr. Miller ordered. His voice indicated that this was not a debatable request.

Kaz merely shrugged and rested his hand flat out on the desk. He met Mr. Miller's eyes with no traces of fear. His lips stretched into a grin and he nodded a little.

"Do your worst, Miller," Kaz said.

I watched in horror as Mr. Miller raised the ruler and brought it down on Kaz's hand. It cracked against Kaz's skin, and nothing but a quick, tight squint of Kaz's eyes gave away any trace of pain. Mr. Miller lifted the ruler, revealing a furious red scream on the back of Kaz's hand.

"Hands on the desk. Do your work," Mr. Miller said. He grabbed the back of Kaz's head and snapped it down, forcing Kaz to look at his work.

Kaz tried to duck his head out of the grip, but Mr. Miller tangled his fingers into Kaz's hair, keeping his head in place. Kaz's hand shot out and snatched the ruler away from Mr. Miller, bringing it down on his knee and snapping it in half.

"Bite me," Kaz said, dropping the broken pieces of the ruler to the ground. "Long live anarchy."

The other students were watching now, admiration and hope in their eyes as Kaz managed to push enough to get his head back up. Mr. Miller's arm trembled lightly as he attempted to push Kaz's head back down, but he was unsuccessful.

Kaz gave a dangerous grin at Mr. Miller. He kicked the broken ruler away from himself, watching the pieces slide across the floor.

"Don't make me get security again," Mr. Miller said, his voice furious and overflowing with threat. "Or if you insist on keeping this up, I'll handle it myself."

"The monster might have looked ugly, but he was still better than Frankenstein," Kaz said.

"And what a disgusting little monster you are," Mr. Miller said, his hands falling to his side. "I can't wait for the day I read your name in the obituaries or the police log."

"Already been in one of those," Kaz said, giving the dangerous grin again. "I'll find you a copy of it and mail it to you. You can frame it."

"You're the poster child for worthless youth," Mr. Miller spat.

"Say it, don't spray it," Kaz said.

Mr. Miller got dangerously close to Kaz's face. "I will not bow to you, you pathetic little pest. You're a no good brat with no future for himself. I will break that rotten attitude of yours. You are the student here, Casimir. I'll make damn sure this school fixes you."

Kaz met his eyes steadily. "I'm not broken."

"I beg to differ." Mr. Miller picked up the broken ruler and threw the pieces in the trash. He snatched another ruler out of his desk and glared down at the class again. "Everyone get back to work before you're next." He gave a warning slap of the ruler against his desk.

Kids bowed their heads again to work. Kaz leaned back in his chair again, his hand still sporting that angry red mark.

I kept my eyes on my paper, pretending to work. But inside, my mind was screaming at me to call my parents when I got out of here.

This was crazy. Teachers weren't allowed to do that! You couldn't just whip a kid's hand with a ruler and then force his head down like that!

Kaz made it seem like this wasn't the first time it had happened, either. Everyone in this class clearly knew how things went. So why hadn't anyone told their parents yet? Why hadn't someone sued this dude?

The period went by painfully slow until it finally ended. I got up and hurried out of the room, leaning against the wall in the hallway, still trying to process what had happened back there.

Kaz came out of the classroom with kids clustered around him again. Cara and Pete flanked him on either side, both looking excited as they talked to him.

He stopped and eyed me. "Conversion Academy, kiddo. We don't play around here."

"Why don't you tell someone? Your parents?" I said, looking at his hand.

Kaz barked a laugh. "My parents? What are you, five?"

"No," I said, glaring at him. "I'm not five. But there's no way what he did to you is legal!"

"So what? We're all here because our parents don't give a shit what happens to us. We got dumped in this place because our parents didn't want to deal with us. Go ahead and try to tell your folks. I guarantee they don't believe a goddamn word out of your mouth," Kaz said.

"But-" I started.

"Can't record them, either. Kids have tried it before. They end up with destroyed cell phones," Cara said, crossing her arms. "Anything you can think of, kids have already tried. This school thrives on abuse with a smile. Parents who might care won't know what they're doing to you. But Kaz is right; our folks don't care. We're the bad kids around this place. As long as we come out of here too dead inside to act out, our folks don't give a shit what they do to us."

I looked at Kaz's injured hand, feeling my anger deflating. I could already imagine trying to tell my parents about the incident. I knew they wouldn't believe me. I'd probably still try to tell them, but I already knew it wouldn't matter.

Kaz slapped my back. "Now you're getting it." He turned to Pete. "Don't you just love how you can pinpoint the exact moment the hope dies in the newbies?"

I glared at Kaz. "Quit talking about me like that. You were all newbies once, you know."

"We all fit in here," Cara said. "We don't bow our heads and try to please these bastards. Keep that up and you'll walk out of here with that dead look in your eyes that every other teacher-pleaser has."

"Better let him go. I'm sure he'd hate to be late on his first day," Kaz said, watching me in amusement.

I glared harder but knew he was right; I didn't want to be late. So I turned away from them and made my way to my next class, ignoring the laughter that chased me.

The kids from the hallway came into the room after a few moments. There was no teacher in yet, so the kids gathered around Kaz again as he entered, talking in quiet, excited voices. They all kept looking over at me, but Kaz sat down and paid me no attention.

A teacher stalked in and the kids scattered to their seats. The teacher noticed me and his expression darkened.

"Killian O'Malley?" he demanded.

"Uh...yes sir," I said.

"Why aren't you in your uniform?" he snapped. "Sloppy. So damn sloppy. Take a seat in the back corner. What a horrible first impression. No wonder you ended up in a class with the rest of these delinquent failures."

"To be fair, Mr. Sudlow, only some of us are delinquents. Can't say I've ever been arrested. Kaz?" Cara said, cutting her gaze to Kaz.

"Guilty as charged," Kaz said, smirking.

"Your families dropped you here because you have no future," Mr. Sudlow said, voice cruel.

"You're probably right about that," Kaz agreed. "But, hey, now you get to see our charming faces every day."

Mr. Sudlow noticed Kaz's injured hand. "I see you've already opened that big mouth of yours today. Open it again and I'll make you wish you were born without hands, Casimir."

I scampered to the seat in the back and sank down in the desk, hoping to avoid this guy's rage. He went up to the front of the room and began to write on the board, students looking between Kaz, Cara, and Pete to see if any of them would challenge Mr. Sudlow.

Kaz slipped a note to Pete, which he opened and scanned over. He gave a small nod before tucking the paper into his shoe.

Pete got the attention of the girl next to him and held up his pen. He moved like he was going to click it, but didn't actually. The girl nodded and I watched as this silent message spread throughout the classroom.

Mr. Sudlow was still writing on the board, oblivious to the message being passed around. Everyone had their eyes on Kaz now, and I watched as he held up his pen, a gleam in his eyes that made him look sharp.

He clicked his pen to life and everyone else grabbed theirs, copying him. I mentally groaned as they all began to click their pens, over and over again, an obnoxious chorus of clicking echoing throughout the room unevenly.

Mr. Sudlow spun around, eyes blazing. "All of you, stop this right now!"

The kids continued to click their pens and Mr. Sudlow grit his teeth. He stormed over to Kaz and gripped his wrist tightly, slamming his hand down on the desk so hard that the pen flew out of it. He snatched a water bottle off of a girl's desk and smacked it onto Kaz's injured hand.

Kaz tensed slightly in pain, but gave no other sign of it. The pen clicking was slowly dying down as kids watched anxiously.

"Casimir. Peter." Mr. Sudlow yanked Kaz to his feet. "Stand up and empty your pockets."

Pete stood up as well and he and Kaz shrugged and turned their pockets inside out, revealing nothing but lint. Mr. Sudlow narrowed his eyes suspiciously and turned to the rest of the class.

"Were they passing notes?" he asked.

Some kids shook their heads while others just shrugged unknowingly. Mr. Sudlow shoved Pete and Kaz so that they were sitting again before going back up to the front of the room.

"The next one of your little pests to try something gets detention," he said, but the tone of his voice implied that they would probably end up with an injury similar to Kaz's.

So the class fell silent and worked as Mr. Sudlow wrote up problems on the board. Kaz and Pete seemed satisfied for hopping on Mr. Sudlow's last nerve, and didn't attempt any other stunt.

The class ended, dismissing us for lunch. I got up and kept my head down as I left the room. I could probably make it back to my dorm to put my uniform on, but I didn't want to risk getting lost and missing class. These teachers scared the shit out of me.

So instead, I followed the stream of kids to another building. Everyone lined up on a wide set of stairs, talking and laughing and making a white noise of hungry students.

I swiped my card and entered the cafeteria, grabbing a salad and tucking myself away in a corner to eat. Shit, I should really try to make a friend or something.

The lunch period went by way too fast, and then I was back in class. Kaz and Pete didn't try anything in our last three classes, instead allowing the teachers to actually teach. I noticed that all of the teachers eyed Kaz wearily, seeming unsurprised by his injured hand.

I had never been more grateful in my entire life for a school day to end, and that was saying something. As we piled out of that last class, I felt relief wash over me.

Until I remembered that now I had to go meet my roommate.

I mentally groaned. Okay, okay, how bad could it really be? Maybe whoever he was, he'd be cool. Maybe I could even get along with him. Oh, god, please let me get along with the guy.

Feeling miserable, I made my way towards the dorm buildings. Really, how much worse could this day possibly get?