Chapter 1: The Arrival

Paula Thorpe stood before the menacing gates of Woodvyle High, her spirits anything but dampened by the oppressive atmosphere. She couldn't help but smile wryly at the clichéd, Gothic facade that greeted her.

"Great. A high school for juvenile delinquents. Just what I always wanted," she muttered, her tone laden with her characteristic sarcasm.

As the rusty gate clanged shut behind her, sealing her fate in this gloomy institution, Paula took a deep breath and stepped forward with an air of mock enthusiasm. She'd mastered the art of masking her true feelings behind a façade of humor, and she wasn't about to let this place crumble her well-crafted defenses.

Inside the main building, the dimly lit corridor beckoned her to venture further into the unknown. The stern receptionist behind the desk regarded her with a steely gaze, but Paula returned the favor with a smirk.

"Paula Thorpe?" The woman's voice sounded as cold as the rumors that had preceded Paula's arrival.

"The one and only," Paula quipped, her gaze locked on the woman, daring her to be the first to crack a smile.

"Your room is in the West Wing. You'll find it down the corridor, Room 207," the receptionist stated, her stern expression unwavering.

All right, tough crowd.

Paula accepted the room key with a nod and a casual, "Thanks. I'll try not to redecorate."

Navigating the graffiti-covered hallways that oozed tales of rebellion, she couldn't help but admire some of the more creative profanities and whimsical drawings. Paula might be in a less-than-ideal situation, but her sharp eye for irony couldn't help but appreciate the artistry in defiance.

Finally, she reached Room 207, unlocked the door, and strolled inside. The room was no five-star hotel, but Paula had seen worse. She flung her duffel bag onto the bed and leaned against the wall, her mind racing with a mixture of excitement and determination. This place might be a challenge, but Paula was no stranger to adversity.

All students, please gather at the school cafeteria for lunch.

I turned, searching for the hidden speakers.

Hidden speakers? This is practically a prison.

I shrugged, going off to search for the cafeteria, which I soon found, already filled with students. A teacher stood at the entrance.

"Name?" She questioned.

"Paula Thorpe."

She smiled. "Welcome. You're at table 6."

I nodded, searching for the said table.

On finding it, I found myself seated with a group of misfits.

Surprised much?

There was Lily, with blonde hair and big, blue eyes, straight out a barbie doll box, and Max, whose head was shaved on one side, displaying a collection of vibrant tattoos. They were just as spirited as Paula, though their rebellions had taken different forms.

As they bantered about the cafeteria's unappetizing offerings, Paula couldn't help but find a certain comfort in their shared snark. It was as though sarcasm was the common language of Woodvyle High's students.

"Seriously, can someone get me a hazmat suit for this 'food'?" Paula remarked, poking at a suspicious-looking dish.

Max chuckled, "No hazmat suit, but if you can sneak me some of that 'mystery meat,' you'll be my hero."

Lily raised an eyebrow, "Paula, I've seen you eyeing the pudding. What's the verdict? Edible or not?"

Paula smirked, "You'll never know unless you try, right?"

Their laughter filled the room, and Paula felt a sense of camaraderie she hadn't expected to find. In this place, she was not alone in her defiance against the gloom.

But it was during one of the mandatory therapy sessions that my world was shaken once more. As I entered the dimly lit room with a group of students, my gaze fell on a boy who had an aura of indifference so potent that it almost made my sarcasm falter.

He just sat there, slouched in his chair, staring blankly at the therapist. His casual disinterest was almost impressive.

I chose a seat next to him and couldn't resist commenting, "Therapy, huh? This place just keeps getting better."

He barely glanced at her, and his response was far from enthusiastic. "Yeah, real blast."

The therapist introduced herself as Dr. Martinez and encouraged the students to share their thoughts and feelings. I remained silent, not just because I didn't give a shit, but Jake's nonchalant attitude intrigued me. What was the story behind that indifference? I couldn't help but wonder.

The therapy session was over befor I knew it, and I found myself watering back to my dorm, Jake still on my mind.

Who is he? What's he here for?

I unlocked the door still deep in thought, only to find a backpack and a pair of sneakers strewn across the floor.

I blinked in surprise. "Well, that's cozy. A surprise guest?" she muttered.

Then, from the little bathroom in the corner, emerged a shirtless figure — Jake, his hair tousled, and his eyes betraying a glint of mischief. He looked at Paula with an air of nonchalance, as though her arrival was of no concern to him.

Paula raised an eyebrow. "You." I said, my voice barely above a whisper, and my eyes lingering on his bare torso.

I couldn't lie, I was ******* psyched that he was my roommate, gives me a better chance of deciphering his whole nonchalant persona. And he's hot. God, today just got a whole lot better.

He smirked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Jake Frazier, at your service."

She couldn't help but chuckle at his audacity. "You're my new roommate?"

Jake nodded, his indifference undeterred. "Looks like it."

Paula couldn't deny that there was something about Jake's apathy that intrigued her. She had always appreciated a good challenge, and he seemed to offer just that.

"Well, Jake, hope you don't mind a little sarcasm and chaos," Paula quipped.

His lips curled into a half-smile. "I think I can handle it."

I smiled, picking up the little brochure I was given after the therapy session.

"So, what your stat?" He asked.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"Your color." He clarified.

"Oh." I mused.

I glanced at the brochure in my hand. We were assigned colors depending on what got us in here. In ascending order; red, orange, yellow and green.

According to what I'd heard, yellow and green were nothing to worry about. Red and orange were the real issues.

"Let me guess, yellow?" He said snapping me out of my trance.

"Why do you think that?" I smirked.

Jake leaned back against the wall, his gaze fixed on Paula. "You strike me as someone who's not easily rattled. You've got that yellow vibe about you."

Paula tilted her head, her smile turning enigmatic. "You're pretty perceptive, Jake. What's your color, then?"

Jake's eyes held a hint of amusement. "Orange."

Paula raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Orange, huh? Sounds like you've got a story."

Jake's nonchalant demeanor cracked slightly, revealing a glimmer of vulnerability. "Don't we all in this place?"

Paula nodded in agreement. "Fair enough."

"So am I right? Are you a yellow?" He asked.

I shook my head no.

"Green then?"

I glanced and the brochure in my hand, which held the answer to his question.

"I'm a red." I answered, smirking as I watched his amused expression drop..