Fifteen years had passed like a blur of seasons. The small, quiet boy who cried in the sandbox was gone. In his place stood Lucifer, a tall, guarded young man with a cold expression that acted as his shield. He adjusted his bag strap as he stepped through the heavy oak doors of St. Jude's High.
He didn't care about making friends or "new beginnings." He just wanted to get through his final year.
He walked into Classroom No. 12 and found a seat in the back corner, near the window. The room was buzzing with the usual high school chatter. A few desks away, a girl sat quietly, her head buried in a sketchbook.
That was Nancy.
Her long hair fell over her shoulders, hiding her face as she drew intricate, swirling patterns. She didn't look up when Lucifer sat down. To her, he was just another transfer student—another name to forget. To him, she was just a girl in a uniform.
As the teacher began the roll call, the wind caught a small, worn-out blue marble sitting on the edge of Nancy's pencil case. It rolled across the floor, stopping right at the tip of Lucifer's shoe.
He looked down at the chipped blue glass. It felt strangely heavy, like a ghost from a dream he couldn't quite remember. He picked it up, but when he looked over at the girl who dropped it, there was no spark of recognition. Just two strangers, staring at each other in a room full of people.