Shade’s new identity had shown up at ten-thirty-seven in the morning—two months later. Introducing, Nightshade Toxin (because why not—not like she is going to run across the other one). Fourteen years old. Date of Birth: Winter Solstice, Fourteen Years Ago. Height and weight are not all that important. Eye color? Hair color? Skin color? Sex: Not any time soon.

She places her identification card in a wallet and the wallet in her pocket. Which pocket? Guess that is for her to know and someone unlucky or suicidal to find out.

After a blinding picture, she has her school ID, a schedule, and is sent into her first class with the translator in tow. Shade had studied the translator in the principal’s office; noting the young woman’s, probably fresh out of college, light gray skin, bright gray eyes, and a long flowing gray mane; she wears a white blouse, black slacks being held by a shiny, black belt, and shiny, gray shoes. Shade gets the mane color right at least.

A short, two minute walk later and Shade opens the door to her classroom. Everyone in the room turns to look at the intruders. The teacher gives a warm smile.

“E-excuse us,” the translator apologizes.

“By all means, come in! Class, this is the new student and the translator I was just telling you all about.”

Shade walks up to the man, who stands easily over sixty centimeters taller than her, and extends her right hand to him.

The teacher accepts her gesture. “A pleasure to meet you Miss Toxin. My name is Mister Smith. My! Quite the grip you have!”

She smirks and signs to him. He smiles politely and looks at the translator.

“She request to call her ‘Shade’, Mister Smith. I am Miss Cobalt Blossom.”

“Of course Miss Shade. Please introduce yourself to the class and tell us a little about yourself.”

Shade’s expression stiffens. She scans the room. Seventeen females, twelve males, all the colors of the grayscale. An empty seat in the column near the windows in the middle row sticks out like a sore thumb. She turns her attention to the translator and begins signing.

“Are you sure?” A huff and narrow eyes answer her. Cobalt Blossom clears her throat. “Shade asks that everyone um, respects her privacy and refrain from, erm, socializing too much with her.”

“Succinct. Nicely done,” Mister Smith says. “I’m sure you noticed the empty seat over there. That will be your seat. Everyone is seated alphabetically but when the next semester begins seats will change.”

Shade nods and walks over to her seat, slinging her backpack to the ground. She takes out the dark gray history textbook from the desk and turns it to the page her classmate’s had their books to.

“History”—same shit, different day. Wars, rebellions, revolutions, politics, famine, plagues, scandals; nothing new to an immortal. Still, learning about new cultures keeps Shade’s interest. When the lesson comes to an end, the teacher walks over to Shade and hands her a composition notebook.

“This will be your daily diary. Think of this as where you write a summary of your day. It doesn’t need to hold your deepest, darkest secret because this is for a grade and I will be reading them.” Mister Smith explains.

Shade nods. She writes her name on the cover in the space available.

“Alright class,” Mister Smith addresses everyone as he walks back to the front of the room, “we have about ten minutes until the bell rings, you may use this time freely.”

Several students rush over to crowd around Shade and bombard her with questions.

“Hey, Shade! Where’re you from?”

“Love your hair! So fierce!”

“Where do you live?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Do you want a boyfriend?”

“Do you want a girlfriend?”

“Need help getting to your next class?”

“I can show you around the school!”

During their questioning, Shade opens up the journal to start writing. She ignores them and their stares.

“Excuse me?” Cobalt Blossom speaks up behind three students, “Shade had said she likes her privacy.”

“She also said to ‘refrain from socializing too much’. A few questions won’t hurt, right?”

Shade looks up from her writing to glare at Cobalt Blossom. She starts to sign at the woman.

“‘Vanhoover. Hair is hair. Vanhoover Youth Foundation. No. No. No. No. No. Not necessary.’”

“So you’re an orphan?”

Looking to the right reveals the girl—who has positioned herself to rest her left arm on the back of her chair in front of Shade—that has asked the question. Her third question. The girl reminds Shade of Sunset; if Sunset had suddenly gained confidence and ten pounds. Honestly, that girl needs more meat on her bones. Aside from the clothes, the beanie on this Sunset’s head sets her apart.

“I’m Autumn Spice,” the girl introduces herself and holds out her hand.

Shade shakes her hand and signs.

“I’m a ward of the state.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” The girl to the left of Autumn Spice inquires.

Head shake.

“What’s the difference?”

Shade growls.

“‘Go find out for yourself if you are so curious’,” Cobalt translates the angry motions of Shade. ‘“Now, leave me alone’, she says.”

“But it’s only been five minutes.”

“C’mon, let’s leave her be,” Autumn says, “we don’t want to scare her away.”

Shade huffs and returns to writing in the journal while the students return to their seats. She feels Autumn’s gaze linger on her before hearing the girl turn in her seat.

Second period starts off with introductions with Cobalt Blossom reiterating Shade’s desire of privacy and wanting others not talking to her. Shade recognizes several faces from her last period and Autumn Spice; especially, since the girl sits in front of her.

Since this period is math and Shade knows everything there is to know about math she spends the time writing in the daily journal. An easy task with a sharp mind and perfect memory; she starts with the first day of school and is on the tenth when the teacher, Abacus Theory, calls on her to solve an equation on the board.

Shade looks to the teacher then to the board then back to the teacher. The teacher wields a smug grin. Shade just rolls her eyes. As if finding the thirty-seventh power of i was difficult. A child can see the pattern. She writes the answer and walks back to her seat.

“How did you find that answer?” The teacher inquires before Shade takes a second step.

Shade signs.

“She means show your work on the board, Shade,” Cobalt clarifies.

Shade huffs and shows her work on the board.

“Nicely done, Shade. You may return to your seat. Now, class, Shade used the properties of exponents to simplify...”

After second period lets out, Shade notices Autumn Spice walking next to her.

“You must be a genius if you’re taking junior level classes as a freshman.” Autumn Spice holds out a paper to Shade. “You’d be a welcome addition to the Academic Decathlon Team!”

Cobalt almost crashes into Shade because of her abrupt stop. “‘No. I have more important things to do at the orphanage.’ Uhm, Shade, you could’ve phrased that less harshly.”

“It’s fine,” Autumn says. Her tone and body language speak otherwise.

“Shade will ask her friends if they’ll join.”

Autumn perks up. “Really?”

Nod.

“Thanks!” Autumn goes to hug Shade, only for Shade to duck under her arms. A shove makes Autumn almost lose her footing.

“‘Don’t do that again.’”

Autumn chuckles. “S-sorry, Shade.”

Shade huffs and stomps away.