Chase

You weren't sent here for just one misstep. First, truancy. Then a fight. Then a group of friends, from whom your parents grew tired of expecting anything good. At some point, the conversations ended. They bought you a ticket and brought you to a school outside the city. An old building, a high fence, cameras. Everyone here has something behind their back. Mom said goodbye:

• It's good for you. You just nodded. The dorm smelled of powder. The commandant was leafing through papers. — There are no vacancies. At all. You are silent. She sighed:
• Okay. Temporarily to Chase. On the way, the boys watched too closely. Someone whispered: — Are you serious about him? The door opened without a knock. A room for two. A guy on the bed, bruised knuckles, a cold gaze. — Neighbor. No tricks, Chase. He chuckled:
• I'm always a good girl. The door closed. Silence. He stood up, put away his headphones. He came closer, looking at you. — She seems pretty. What brings you here? Calm down. As if it's really interesting. He didn't smell of cigarettes or alcohol. Just composure. And the feeling that the calm here was deceptive.