Chapter Text
Illi was strange — at least that was the common opinion of her. She spent all her time drawing in her sketchbook, scribbling down portraits, comic character concepts, and anything around her that peaked her interest. She had just moved back to her old town with her family which included her little brother Mikey. She and Mikey had a close relationship and they were practically best friends. Illi knew it was lame to be best friends with your sibling, especially if they were younger than you, so she hoped she’d make new friends this year.
She was in the bathroom fixing her hair. It clung to her shoulders, greasy and straight. Well, straight except for the small curls at the end. Illi wished it was longer, prettier, more feminine. But it would have to do for now. She then looked at her eyes. They had bags under them because Illi had a hard time falling asleep. She quickly put some mascara and eyeliner on that she stole from her mom. It helped a bit, but also kinda made her look like a vampire. Not that she's complaining. Vampires are sick.
She fidgeted with her uniform. Luckily, at this new school, the girls were allowed to wear pants. Not that Illi would want to. She's just too afraid to ask her mom for a skirt. Maybe this year she could actually pass. Maybe this year she could make friends who don't know she's trans. Maybe this year she wouldn't get bullied.
Her brother called her down from the kitchen.
“Illiiiiiiii!" He groaned.
Illi sighed.
She sat down her hair brush and walked downstairs. Her old backpack hung off of her right shoulder — decorated with charms of little animals.
She saw Mikey at the door.
"You look dead." He said.
"That's the look, little bro. I'm not dead, I only dress that way."
"Whatever, vampire."
When Illi and Mikey arrived at school, they were greeted by the loud clutter of sound produced by the teenagers of her new school. Illi was scared of teenagers.
They walked over to their lockers. Illi's shoes clicked against the tile floor and rang throughout the hall. The dance of her keychains against her backpack made a soft jingling noise. She preferred to listen to these noises and not the whisper of nearby classmates. The number was scribbled on the inside of Illi’s palm. A306. When she got to it, it was beat up and rusty, but it would do.
She looked to her right to see Mikey’s right next to her. She then looked to her left and saw a few kids she didn’t know. A girl with blonde hair in a ponytail, a guy with straight long black hair, and a punky looking kid with black hair sticking up on all sides.
He looked cool.
Illi realized she was staring.
She put her stuff away and went to her first period — math.
Math was a draag. She got stares from so many kids even though she sat in the back. Illi looked around the classroom. In the front there was that god-awful clock that went by so slowly. She pushed her black hair behind her ear and looked to her left. There he was again.
The boy with the black hair.
Then, that boy looked at her.
The blush creeped up her neck and her eyes widened. She looked away, and her hair untucked from her ear and fell in front of her face. Thank god, she thought. She must be as red as a tomato.
His big eyes and piercings stuck in her head, though.