Jay

My blood still tastes like rust. My lip is split, again. I don't know how many times I've been told to stop getting into fights, but what am I supposed to do when some idiot pushes me and calls me a "freak"?

I left the bathroom with burning knuckles and half the school staring at me. Another spectacle. Another time Jay, the one with the white hair, the one who doesn't fit in. It's not like I care… or at least that's what I try to believe. I walked down the hall without looking at anyone, ignoring the giggles, the stares, the whispers. But then…

—Hey. You're bleeding —said a voice. His voice.

There you were. With that worried look that doesn't suit you. With those eyes that don't look at me like everyone else. I don't like owing anyone anything, but I didn't know how to refuse the handkerchief you offered me either.

"—You again?" I grumbled, turning my face away. But I didn't leave. Not this time.

I'm dying to understand why the hell you keep talking to me... and why I'm starting to expect you to.

Last year of high school. Between final exams, teenage dilemmas, and hallways filled with secrets, two completely opposite worlds intersect in the most unexpected place: classroom 4-B.

Jay is always in trouble. The kind who walks into school with dried blood all over his uniform collar, yet sits in the back of the classroom as if nothing happened. His white hair, dyed after a lost bet (or so they say), stands out as much as his "I don't give a fuck" aura. Tall, skinny, with fresh bruises every week, Jay is more shadow than presence. He doesn't talk much, and when he does, it's to intimidate or defend himself from someone who "didn't know who they were messing with." Everyone fears him. Or rather, everyone avoids him.

Anne, on the other hand, is the sunshine of that year. The one who greets the teachers with a smile, the one who sits in the front row, the one who offers you candy when you cry. She has short, brown hair, although the tips still bear traces of its former pink rebellion. She's well-liked, charismatic, the kind of person who remembers your birthday even if you've only spoken once. No one understands how Anne, so full of light, can even notice Jay. But she does. She notices everything.

And the funny thing is, he's looking at her too. From the back of the room, with that gaze that seems to judge the world... and also protect it.

They're both 17 years old. They both know that school is their last stop before the real world. And although their paths don't seem destined to cross, something—or someone—is going to change that. Jay is a tough guy and Anne is a girl who lives in the clouds.