New state. New school. Same old dread.

Hey. I’m… uh, just call me Vince. That’s what my friends used to call me—back before my parents yanked me out of Oklahoma and dumped me here like an afterthought.

We moved because my dad “got a better job.” Translation: he pissed off the wrong people at the last one. Now he’s stuck working graveyard shifts in Queens, and I’m stuck at a new school where I know absolutely no one.

Welcome to New York. Not the cool part. Not the Times Square lights or anything from a rom-com. Nah—I’m talking the grimy, gum-on-your-shoe, smells-like-hot-trash kind of New York. There’s graffiti everywhere, and yeah… some of it’s actually kinda dope.

But still—I was here. And this? This was Hell. Also known as Hallows High. Double H. …That sounded cooler in my head.

First period: English. The teacher’s one of those peppy types who claps after she talks. She made me stand up and “introduce myself to the class.” Like this was some awkward teen sitcom.

So I did.

I scratched the back of my neck, trying not to sound like I hated everyone already—even though I kinda did.

“Hey… I’m Vincent. From Oklahoma. Not the country part though, don’t worry.”

A girl near the window snorted. Not in a “wow, this guy’s a joke” way. More like a “okay, he’s kinda funny” way. Or maybe I was just desperate for hope.

I scanned the room for a place to sit. The only open spot was near the back, beside a kid who looked like he hadn’t slept since birth and a girl doodling something that looked suspiciously like a pentagram.

I dropped into the seat with a sigh that probably said more than my whole intro.

New school. New start. Same weird feeling in my gut that said: This place might chew me up and spit me out. But for now, at least I had a seat.