I sat in the back of the Math classroom, watching as Mr Dulman went on about indices. This was stuff we had all learnt the year prior, but revision was always key according to teachers. A few minutes after the class started and we had all chosen our seats, there was a knock on the door.

Mr Dulman waddled towards the door and pulled it open it be met with a boy with brown hair and tan skin.

"Gabe," Mr Dulman drawled in his thick Scottish accent, "you finally decided to join us."

Gabe looked down slightly embarrassed. "I'm still more used to last years' timetable," he mumbled, only just loud enough for the class to hear in the silence.

"Right, well you best be happy I didn't mark the role yet," Mr Dulman stepped aside. "You can sit next to Flora."

Gabe pulled a face of confusion, looking around the classroom. He eventually found me. I was clearly Flora. The only student he probably didn't recognise. The fact that I was the only one with an empty seat next to me may have also been a big give away.

He walked towards me, dropping his bag on the floor next to the desk before taking his seat. He glanced towards me timidly and pulled his book, pencil case and planner – as I learnt it was named – out. He was one of those students, that thought a multisubject book was a good idea. These people were also the same people that typically ran out of space by the second semester.

Now that I got a closer look at Gabe, I could see that he had blue eyes and an average height with an average build. Everything about him screamed average. Hell, he was in the worst Math class along with myself and my fellow idiots.

One of the eshay's leaned back on their chair and the other eshay behind them wrapped their arms around him. That was the thing about eshay's. They were quite clearly straight – most of the time – but the way they interacted with each other wasn't so straight. But that detail wasn't what made them eshay's, and not all eshay's – but still a large percentage of them – were like that. What truly tipped me off was the faded hoodie, chain necklaces, and cigarette smell radiating off of them.

The teacher yelled at them to pay attention but anyone with a brain knew to not interrupt eshay's when they were cuddling.

"That's homophobic Uncle!" The one leaning back on his chair called out.

"I am not your Uncle, William," Mr Dulman said in an angry voice. "Stop disrupting the class!"

A few students chuckled, knowing full well that to teachers, it didn't matter who you were, there was to be no PDA during class time. Eshay's just like causing scenes for attention. The lesson paused as the entire class tried not to laugh at Mr Dulman, Will, and Fundo's – Connor F's nickname so that people didn't confuse him with Connor A – argument. I rolled my eyes at it.

I glanced next to me to see Gabe hurriedly writing everything on the board into his book. He didn't seem to pay the commotion much mind, taking the opportunity to catch up before the teacher returned to the lesson.

"If you don't manage to get it all down you can copy my notes," I offered. "Sorry if you can't read cursive."

Gabe looked at me a moment before answering, "That's very nice of you," he continued to copy the board, glancing my way every few seconds. It didn't bother me really, I assumed he was probably weirded out by the new girl. Eventually, however, I got tired of it and returned his gaze.

"Take a picture," I said, "it'll last longer."

Gabe flushed slightly before returning to his work. Please no, I thought. I had really been hoping that it was people supressing their hormones that lead to so much attention at Sacredooka. I had always assumed that at public schools the teenagers weren't as hormonal because they had actual sex ed lessons. Although, I knew almost nothing about the sex lives of my classmates.

Gabe let out a dejected sigh when Mr Dulman erased everything on the board to start writing again. As promised, I moved my pages towards him so that he could copy, and he gave me, yet another, shy glance. I hadn't known anyone to be so coy. Once he managed to finish that, we began writing the new notes Mr Dulman had written on the board. Does this guy know how to summarise?

After some time, Will – after being told to wait in the corridor – snuck back into the classroom through another door and sat behind the teachers desk, spinning on the swivelling chair. Even I had trouble not laughing as he did all sorts of things while Mr Dulman tried to get the class to calm down, not knowing that Will was even back in the class. Mr Dulman figured out what had happened when there was still twenty minutes left of class – surely that's a record of not noticing something? – and began to scold Will, causing the entire class to burst out laughing.

"The eshay's are rude and annoying as Hell, but you've gotta hand it to them," Gabe was having trouble not laughing, "they're entertaining."

I chuckled. "Might have to create a special award called the Larrikin Award," I smiled behind my mask. "Hand it out with all the other cert's."

Gabe chuckled. "I think Will's already taken the cake."

"Forget the cake," I replied, "he's taken the whole dang pantry."

After about fifteen minutes – seriously, it shouldn't take this long to handle a situation – Mr Dulman finally got Will to take his seat and write the notes. There were only around four minutes left of class and it most certainly was not enough time to get everything on the board down about indices – which we knew nothing about – and still make it out of the class in time.

The bell rang and we were dismissed. I put everything into my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and waited for the door to be less crowded.

Somehow, I made it out of my first Math class alive. I didn't think I could do it but, I survived the Hell of numbers and letters – which didn't belong in Maths – and even, the torture of index laws. I don't know how I did it, but I did.

My mind began to wonder as I headed towards the PAB. Ciara had told me that was where her and Zak usually hung out at recess and lunch.

I thought about how I would go about understanding my dreams. The whole dirt incident couldn't possibly have been a coincidence or normal. And what was the light? It wasn't a star, it wasn't any normal source of light, and it most certainly wasn't a trick of the light. Hallucinations didn't typically hurt.

And the green gemstones and dark markings weren't normal either. People didn't normally find markings imprinted onto their skin surrounding a gemstone unless they'd done some strange SFX make-up.

And that healing? What even was that? My scabs and scratches just miraculously disappeared after a dream like that on coincidence? I don't think so. There was something strange going on, and the timing was just too convenient. The disappearance of my parents just so happened to occur right before I started having these ethereal dreams. No. There was something else at play here. And I would figure out what it was.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by Zak calling my name and I ran towards them, plonking down and taking my food out of my bag.

"You planning to eat with a mask on?" Ciara said before biting into a muesli bar.

"Oh right," I flushed in embarrassment before pulling it to the side of my face.

"I've got Mr Irason again," Zak groaned.

"Three years in a row?" Ciara replied. "The staff here must hate you."

"What's wrong with him?" I asked.

"He is the worst Science teacher, in the history of Science teaching," Zak said. "Like we remember what the Hell an organelle is!"

I quirked an eyebrow. "You forgot about those?"

"They were shoving what they were down our throats all through year eight Zak?" Ciara replied in a questioning voice.

"Yeah," Zak said, "but I was dealing with an incredibly stressful break up."

"Connor isn't worth wasting an education over," Ciara retorted, and my eyes widened.

"You dated Connor?" I asked, Zak responding with a nod. "As in Connor A and not Fundo."

"Yes, if I meant Fundo, I would've said Fundo," Ciara explained. "Why?"

"I'm just surprised that Zak would date a guy like that," I said.

"Yes, well at the time he was hotter than he is now," Zak defended.

"Yeah right," Ciara commented. "Connor's always been as handsome as a donkey's ass."

"Now don't be mean," I scolded. "We don't want to offend any donkey's here. This is a safe space for donkey's."

Ciara and Zak laughed at my remark. It reminded me of Triston and Addison slightly. I was known to make quite sarcastic or even sometimes rude remarks, but they used to just laugh and agree, similarly to what Zak and Ciara were doing now.

Ciara laughed for a little while, and Zak managed to calm himself down after a few seconds. It surprised me how easy it was to make Ciara laugh. I don't really know why, but I had pictured her as one to have a dry sense of humour or find dark humour more entertaining. But I suppose it's not that surprising that she finds humour and entertainment in the little things.

We spent the rest of recess, making jokes, eating our food and just about everything else you do during break times. After that, we went one with the rest of our day.

I waited for Mr Gladiare to finish calling the role and fiddled with the hem of my sport shirt. He called Connor's name – hadn't seen that kid since I was in science – and went on from there. Through A, B, C, D, E –

"Flora?" He looked up from his tablet.

"Here," I slowly raised my hand and watched as a few unfamiliar heads turned towards me, intrigued by the unfamiliar name.

And he continued through the F's until he reached the G's. And eventually –

"Lorenzo?" My head perked up at the name. Shit, please no.

"Here," I turned to see Enzo raising his tanned arm into the air with a smug look on his face. "And it's Enzo, sir."

I had been in the same classes as him multiple times before. Hass, Manufacturing, and Visual Arts. But we had never been in the same Phys Ed class before. In each class we'd had together however he'd been just as insufferable as always. I was going to make my best effort to avoid him for however long I was a student here. I didn't want to any ties to Sacredooka, including the teddy bear murderer.

Mr Gladiare continued down the role until he finally reached Zak. He collected his whistle, roll and clipboard before going to put everything away. I watched as a few classes left the gymnasium and as the last class got up, Mr Gladiare came back.

"This term, we will be doing badminton," he explained. "So, set up the nets, get a racket, and a shuttlecock–"

A few students chuckled at the name.

"–and I will give you further instructions then."

I followed everyone into the storage room and saw them take a few short poles out. I had seen something similar looking at Sacredooka, but we hadn't used them in any of my classes so far. We had done volleyball, netball, basketball, soccer, footy and even I think softball. I had been decent enough at softball, footy and even long-jump during athletics, but I had never quite been tall enough for volleyball, netball, or basketball, and I'd lacked the coordination to succeed at soccer. At least in footy if I fell over, I could argue that I was trying to tackle someone.

I took one of the poles and went back out into the gym, finding where it was supposed to go and screwing it into the hole in the floor. One of the girls came over and attached the net to it and we all stood back to get our rackets and shuttles before getting further instructions from Mr Gladiare.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Zak, smiling his usual warm smile. He had his own racket and shuttle in his hands.

"You want to partner with me?" Zak asked.

I raised an eyebrow. "We haven't been given any instructions," I pointed out. "How do you know we'll need to partner up?"

Zak rolled his eyes. "I take it you've never played," I nodded in reply. "It's a game where you hit something back and forth until someone doesn't manage to get it over the net. We'll be partnering up."

"So, it's like volleyball?" I smiled nervously.

"Sort of," Zak shrugged. "Except way less painful."

Mr Gladiare cleared his throat and the chatter dissipated. Mr Gladiare smiled, but his booming voice didn't seem to suit it. His voice reminded me of what I'd imagined scary teachers to sound like. I'd never had a teacher with such a loud voice. If I were being honest, it was scarier than imagined it would be to finally have one.

Mr Gladiare stood towering over even Zak, with tan skin that was starting to wrinkle, a stocky build and greying hair, cut only a centimetre off of his round head. He also wore a polo shirt like the rest of us, but his was different and I'd come to recognise it as an optional uniform for teachers at this school. It had the same white, black, and gold colouring and the same possum logo. The only difference was the Aboriginal inspired art.

"Just to work on aim, hit the shuttle into the air and try to make sure it doesn't touch the ground," Mr Gladiare nodded, and everyone spread out.

"That seems kinda kiddy," I pointed out.

"It's a lot harder than it looks," Zak started to do what Mr Gladiare said and after a few hits, it hit his face and fell to the ground. "Sh...uttle hit the ground," Zak stopped himself from swearing.

"Okay then," I still didn't quite believe that it was too difficult. That, however, was until I gave it a try. Could've been my lack of overall coordination but it was difficult after a few hits when the shuttle started going all over the place. Especially when it went over the net, and I couldn't get to it. Teachers didn't like students going under the nets.

After a few minutes of the whole class trying and failing to keep the shuttle in the air, our teacher instructed us to pair up and told us to serve the shuttle back and forth. Apparently, there are two types of serves in badminton, although I found the forehand easier. But it was meant to be the more difficult one. Both, Zak, and I seemed to be decent enough at serving. And by that, I mean it went over the net. Didn't always go over the blue line on the court, but it went over the net.

It was when we started to do rallies that I got the hang of swinging the racket around. The last time I'd held a racket was when I was seven. It was a tennis racket, and it had come with those tennis ball swingy things that I can never remember the name of. I'd asked Dad to play against me, and it had actually been fun. When I was younger, I'd always liked playing sports against my parents. I preferred playing against Dad though because he had been easier to win against. Mum was more of a challenge, and while I had won against her once, it was much easier to beat Dad.

When the class ended and everything was packed away, Zak sat next to me and leant back against his hands.

"Never played badminton aye?" Zak quirked an eyebrow.

I shook my head. "But I've played softball," I started. "And I'd argue it's much more difficult to hit a ball with a bat than a shuttle with a racket."

Zak shrugged. "Fair enough."

And the bell went, signalling the end of the day. I stopped outside of the Phys Ed Building – Ciara called this one the PEB instead of the Gym – and drank greedily from one of the water fountains. But after a few seconds, I felt like someone was looking at me. It was a familiar sensation, but not one I welcomed.

I looked up and around until I locked eyes with Enzo. He immediately turn to look somewhere else, and when I followed his gaze all I saw was someone leaving through the back car park. I rolled my eyes. Probably trying to play it off, I thought.