Dijacova high: Welcome to the school of the rich- Art is life 🥀

(I love rock'n roll by Joanna Jet) 

Sam wasn't really aware what highschool was supposed to look like, but he did see them in movies and Dijacova high was more than he'd ever seen in any movie.

As they strode down the school hall, Sam couldn't help but look at everyone. People were so different– different skin, and different tone of speaking.

Some students were relaxed against the walls, some just around the hall not really doing anything.

Sam noticed they were whispering and looking at his direction. He wasn't sure why but Greyson in front didn't seem the slightest bit affected by the blatant staring.

One kid by the water fountain scoffed at Sam's direction and whispered something to the kid next to him along the line of 'Gracing...Murder...Greyson'.

Sam blinked, then turned back to the guide that was in front of him. "Why are they staring?"

Greyson glanced back at him, with a slight frown. "They were? Didn't notice." Sam snorted. "Don't worry firecracker, you'll get used to it, Gracings usually get this much attention especially if you're a senior Gracing."

Greyson paused and turned back to Sam. "Are you a senior or a junior?" Sam stared at him nonchalantly.

"Right. You wouldn't know that cause you haven't checked your file." Greyson said, opening the brown file in his hand. "Well, this says you're a mid-senior...Eh, close enough."

Greyson started walking forward with a speed Sam was finding hard to keep up with. Maybe because Greyson's legs were long and his were short.

Sam grabbed Greyson's arm once he caught up to him. "What are these groups? Gracings? Seniors? Wait I think I know the senior one, but what is a...uh… what did you call it? Mid-senior, I've never heard of that one."

Greyson said nothing in response, simply smiling a bit at Sam, before reaching out to pinch Sam's full cheek lightly.

"You're cute when you're confused firecrac–ker–ow!!" Greyson yelped and retracted his hand as Sam swatted it away from his cheek.

"Do not ever do that…" Sam glared at Greyson. "Is what you Americans do? Touch strangers like that?"

Greyson couldn't help but smile even wider. "Why does everything have to relate to my nationality Firecracker? I'd say that that's pretty stereotypical."

Sam harrumphs. "When you learn what that word really means I shall take whatever word that comes out of your mouth seriously."

Greyson's eyes widened, and his hands clutched his chest. "You wound me firecracker, I'll have you know that I am an A+ student."

Sam's eyes met his, and he gave Greyson a knowing stare.

"Fine just an A student." 

Sam kept the look on his face.

"Fine, an A student in music class."

Sam kept staring.

"Fine, I got a B in English this year."

Sam didn't stop staring.

"Fine, I read Chinese yaoi comics."

Sam blinked, the look contorted into a frown. "I do not want to know why you told me that."

"That look is really scary okay," Greyson replied.

Sam blinked coldly. "That, that look that says 'you're nothing under my feet', it's really scary!"

Sam frowned, and slapped the finger Greyson pointed at him. Greyson released an 'ow'. "Dude, what are you? Empathetic??"

Sam dropped his luggage down. "You did not answer my earlier question Greyson Starr."

Greyson frowned, with a look of disgust to go with it. "My full name sounds weird coming out of someone else's mouth besides the Dean."

Sam glowered down– well up at Greyson. Greyson raised his hands up in surrender.

"Fine. Sesh. The school is separated into groups. Every group represents a particular kind of student, it's really according to your major. Science students have their own group, as well as the commercial students, even the future politicians and so on. Gracing, well Gracing are for art majors, and also the best kind of students there are."

"Why do I feel as if it is the opposite of that for my new group?" Sam voiced aloud, and grabbed his luggage as they began walking again.

Greyson chuckled and replied, "oh no, we're the best. Matter of fact only seniors and prefects are allowed to become a Gracing."

"What about mid-seniors?" Sam asked, he's never heard of a mid senior before.

Greyson shrugged. "The mid there is really just formalities, a mid-senior is still a senior, it's just that the school authorities believe you aren't smart enough to be called a senior, once you prove yourself they'll take the mid out."

Sam almost snorted at the word 'aren't smart enough'. He did find it hard to really understand what Gracing was saying as he was talking very fast, too fast for Sam but he caught the 'aren't smart enough'.

Sam knew damn well that he was most likely smarter than every kid in the school if Greyson is an example of the rest of them. Sam wasn't bragging it was just facts. 

"Agdang (scoundrel), 'aren't smart enough.'" Sam mocked the statement acidly in Korean.

"Aww, firecracker, are you getting pissed? Look at you all red all over. You'll get smart enough one day." Greyson prodded, ruffling Sam's hair.

Sam slapped the hand away. "You are a shameless American, Greyson Starr, stay away from my body and hair!"

Greyson started chuckling at Sam's irritation.

"Where are we heading to?" Sam looked up at Greyson and asked.

A student was passing them when Greyson snatched Sam's bag and stopped the kid.

"Hey!" The boy stopped and turned back at Greyson.

Greyson leaned forward and squinted his eyes. "Kamal blah blah blah...  Blah la blah lala...Junior student!" Greyson beamed, reading the ID card on the boys chest, "Here, make sure to get this bag to section 2, dorm 35."

The boy blinked, unmoving for a second before glancing down at the ID dangling on Greyson's neck then nodded and took the bag from Greyson.

Sam frowned at what had happened. "I do not think you have the right to do that–"

Greyson pffted, and disregarded Sam with his hand. "I'm a senior, he's a Junior, he has to do what I say," Greyson responded, stalking away.

Sam's head followed Greyson's movement then his legs did. "But would there not be abuse of power?"

Greyson frowned with the former smile still on his face. "What?" Greyson looked down at Sam with a smiling but confused look on his face.

Sam looked expectantly at Greyson then shook his head realizing he'd spoken the last words in Korean.

"I meant eh...um… how you say....how do you say…tch...too much power that goes to head in English?" Sam asked, tripping over the right words to use.

"Abuse of power?" Greyson offered.

Sam snapped his fingers and nodded. "Yes. That."

Greyson shrugged. "I guess, but don't worry my sputterbug, you're a mid-senior, no one can boss you around."

Sam glared at Greyson at the new endearment.

Greyson damn near burst into laughter at the cute view. "Oh my sputterbug, I have a feeling our group would just love you." Greyson halted in front of a glass door that said Class 106– music room 6B. 

Greyson drew the door open. "Come-on cutie." Greyson urged, stepping into the class.

Sam could already hear varied sounds from laughing to drumming, to singing, to stereos?

Sam slowly followed into the class, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets at the sight in front of him–

"~I saw him dancin' there by the record machine~" Someone blasted into the microphone in front of them. 

Chairs and desks rolled through the class. Students each helped themselves on the chair and on their desk. 

There was a wide audio mixer by the side of the teacher's desk. A stair trailed up from the front of the class near the board, upwards.

Up there was a glass demarcation. Microphones, and speakers were placed there with a few students.

The walls had random designs from paint, or spray paint. They were random art but Sam couldn't help the heat that grew in his heart at the 'beauty'. 

Art is life! Was sprayed with red and pink color on both the walls and the board.

Students were laughing, and jabbing each other. Some had headphones on, some had headworn microphones.

Sam gaped at the other students with guitars in their hands, and one sitting behind a drum set.

'~I knew he must ah been about seventeen!" Someone from behind the glass demarcation up the stairs sang out loud.

The voice was bold, yet soft, and beautiful like a girl's? Sam could fairly see the figure up there. He was wearing a uniform– a long sleeved white shirt with a black skirt.

Sam frowned. Skirt? The figure had a black hair that seemed braided from the view of the glass demarcation.

Someone laughed. Another student being jabbed with an elbow to the stomach.

"~The beat was goin' strong
Playin' my favorite song~" The student on the ground with a headworn microphone on his head.

There was someone by the audio mixer. A boy, working the sounds of the song.

Sam couldn't help the thundering of his heart. He'd never seen something like this before. The way they were all gathered, the way the class looked almost like a mess, the song they were singing, it was a beautiful mess. 

"~And I could tell it wouldn't be long
'Til he was with me, yeah, me
And I could tell it wouldn't be long
'Til he was with me, yeah, me, singin'~" The figure upstairs sang, gripping both sides of his headphone.

Everyone abruptly joined in. "~I love rock n' roll So put another dime in the jukebox, baby I love rock n' roll
So come and take your time and dance with me~"

"Ow!–"

"—Cut!" A voice suddenly yelled, startling Sam. 

The music stopped at the command.

A man got up from the teacher's chair near the audio mixer.

The man was slender, with simple Blue Jeans and a white tee-shirt on. His eyes narrowed on the boy by the audio mixer.

"Kazim… what in the hell was that? Why did you keep the same beat from the original? I told you to add a twist right on the hook." The man with bouncy black hair tied up asked with the same accent Sam had noticed on the cab driver.

Kazim the boy by the audio mixer maneuvered his chair, now facing the man, who Sam thought to be the teacher.

"I have to keep the same beat if Cisco won't change the damn lyrics before the hook," Kazim defended.

The figure upstairs glared down at Kazim. "Fuck you Kaz, its not my fault that Jay keeps laughing and distracting me."

The boy on the ground against the desk in the front roll perked up. "Hey, I've gat like one verse in this, how I'm I to blame–"

"–San Francisco, Kazim, Jason, we will not go through this rollercoaster again the song is supposed to be different from the original–"

"–Where the fuck is Grey anyways Tata, this is supposed to be his part not mine," Francisco, the boy– apparently– upstairs took the headphone off.

"I leave for one minute and everything is already going to hell Tata?" The teacher– Tata snapped his neck at Greyson.

"Where the fuck have you been??" Half the class asked at once.

Greyson raised both hands up. "Hey, guys, I know you can't get enough of me but jeez calm your tits."

The teacher rolled his blue eyes. "Where have you been Greyson?"

"Having mind-blowing sex," Greyson replied curtly, with a nonchalant expression.

"The idiot managed to get himself into the Dean's office for dumping paint on Usef and punching Spinner in the face." Kazim said right after Greyson, leaning back on the chair.

"Okay, I'd like to point out that that is all rumours, nobody actually saw me in the scene of the crime so right now I'm being accused of something I know noth–"

"–Who's the dork behind you?" Someone asked.

"Hello Herbert," Jason remarked, earning a snicker from the right of the class.

"Dude, why is his shirt tucked in?" Someone piped.

"I dunno, he's kinda cute…" Another countered.

"Bro that's gay,"

"No it's not!"

Jason jumped in. "It's gay unless you say no homo man."

"Students!" The teacher yelled and the noise lowered into mere snickers and whispers. "Greyson, who is the small boy behind you?

Sam frowned, 'small?', he opened his mouth ready to retort when Greyson placed a hand on his face, stopping him from moving behind him and spoke up.

"Idiots, pervs, and Tata, this is Sam, a new student at our class," Sam slapped the hand on his face.

Greyson shot Sam a fake glare and mouthed 'narcissist'.

"He's a senior?" Kazim asked, eyeing the boy with an expression that said he thought little of Sam. 

"Shit, why is he so tiny?"

"Shut up Jason, your dick is tiny," Francisco shot from up the stairs.

"How would you know Cisco?" Someone quipped.

"Read between the lines idiota." Francisco stuck three fingers out, two of them the closest finger to the middle finger. 

"Samuel Kyeon?" The teacher asked. 

Sam shook his head. "Uh.. No… not Samuel.. Just Sam,"

He nodded. "Sam Kyeon, the teachers speak highly of your file, the boy that hacked Dijacova high security system, took over the whole school in three minutes." Tata said with a soft smile.

Sam pinkened, Greyson ruffled Sam's hair. "Aww, my sputterbug is a genius,"

Sam glared up at him, and Greyson quickly snatched his hand. 

Tata laughed. "Well Sam, welcome to class 106, group Gracing,"

"Yeah welcome Sputterbug!" Francisco yelled into the mic causing a whining sound from the mic and distress to everyone's ears. 

He placed a hand on his mouth. "Oops."

Sam stared, he may have not attended highschool but he knew this was not how highschool was supposed to be.

Yet he couldn't help the thrumming of his heart when he heard drumsticks clap together and the guitars playing, along with the sound of Francisco's voice.

He couldn't wait to tell his newest experience to his oppa.

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Author's blurb
So this story is basically when highschool musical meets a bunch of assholes, only this will have enough smut.
We've met all of class 106, or have we? ◐.̃◐ (lolxzz) So guys what do you think of the class already? And what about Sam, why is he in an art group? Any thoughts about the next chapter? Tell me what you think!
Freak out....
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