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CHAPTER THREE
SCHOOLED
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THERE is a certain kind of atmosphere that comes with public high school. Every specific one is unique in its own way, but despite all their districts and boroughs, the offbeat atmosphere stays relatively the same from school to school.

Private education doesn't share that atmosphere with their public counterparts. Private schools have their own gravitational pull and planets with special attributes that circle it. Where private schools lack in chaos and creativity, they excel in pure and unadulterated power. Cristian has never been the one with the power before.

CJ tries to both keep his head held high and mind his business as he walks through the halls of Constance Billard. He's aware that some students are staring, even more whispering as he passes by, but he doesn't do a thing about it. The last thing CJ wants is to start petty drama the first day of school— no matter how tempted he is to stick it to the man.

CJ gets in and out of the office as quickly as possible. The receptionist seems surprised that CJ shows her a decent amount of friendliness, and that only sets the tone for the rest of the teachers. As he wanders through the halls again, now in search of his locker, he notices how utterly terrified the teachers are of the students. Teachers avoid making eye contact, let students break dress code and make out without intervention, and they make themselves smaller than the way.

In simpler terms, it's fucking weird.

CJ resorts to that mantra of 'mind your business' and gets a move on to his first period class, English. He walks into the room and hates to admit, even to himself, that he's intimidated by his classmates.

"You must be Cristian Delavigne. I'm Ms. Keller." A woman's grasp his attention from his peers. He looks over to see a blonde woman in a blaze— the teacher.

"Hernandez, actually," CJ corrects, gladly focusing on her instead of his nerves, "Are there assigned seats or..."

"No, there aren't," CJ picks up on the strain in Ms. Keller's voice as she says if, "Pick any seat you'd like, although I'm supposed to recommend you the ones in the front."

"Why?" CJ questions, taken aback.

"I was given a copy of your IEP agreement. It says that you will have a better experience the closer you are to the front of the class. I can try to rearrange the seats if there isn't one available."

He feels his breath get caught in his throat, embarrassment flushing his cheeks, "No, that—it's fine. I'll be fine."

"Okay," She smiles at him, "Well, if you have any questions, or just need someone to talk to, I'm here."

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