Vapour (Krii7y)

Jessfield High | Chapter 1

Jaren's POV

A new school year, a new school.

New friends, new enemies.

New teachers, new expectations.

Fresh start.

This is either going to be hell like it was back in Canada, or this is going to be the best thing that ever happened to me.

My foster parents decided to move out of the country after they legally adopted me, and so now here we are.

Fuckin' Illinois.

Hopefully my life will turn around here, maybe I'll make some new friends and actually go to classes.

Maybe I won't get expelled.

Maybe I'll actually try this time.

After all, this is my second chance.

"Jaren! Sweetie, it's time to go." My adoptive mother, Eri, calls from down stairs.

"I'm almost ready!" I call back, pulling the white hoodie on over my grey shirt.

I glance in the mirror, running a hand through my messy brown hair before smiling contently.

Not half-bad.

I slip on my usual converses and head out the bedroom door, swinging my pack on as I go.

I can feel the nerves kicking in.

What if I get bullied again?

What if someone knows who I am?

Do people watch the Canadian news over here?

I took a deep breath and braved myself for the lecture I'm about to get from my parents.

"Now Jaren,"

Here we go.

"This year is important. If you feel like you can't survive for a whole day, call me and I'll come pick you up. If you get bored, remember what we talked about and most importantly... No vaping during class." My mother says firmly, watching me with her motherly gaze.

"But Eri!" I whine, mostly unimpressed by the news of my vape. "During lunch I can, and before and after school too, right?" I ask, silently pleading with her.

"Yes, just not in the middle of class. If you get suspended-."

"I know, I know. You'll ground me and stuff. I got it." I grumble, looking down at the plate she just set down.

I dig into the scrambled eggs, watching as my father comes and joins us at the table.

"I won't be home until late, apparently I have to stay for some sort of meeting." Joshua says, looking between the two of us. "I'll talk to you about your first day later on, ok?" He asks, looking at me.

"Sure thing." I reply, smiling at them.

I have deep appreciation for these people. I've lived with them for a little over six years now, they only just recently officially adopted me.

They saved me over and over again and they put up with my PTSD and my mental breakdowns.

They helped relieve my anxiety, and these people are what I consider true family.

We may not be related by blood, but they have broken their backs to help me, even when they didn't need too.

I'm lucky to have parents as great as them, and as supportive of them.