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Dijacova high: Welcome to the school of the rich (Chapter 2: Greyson Starr)
Dijacova high: Welcome to the school of the rich- Art is life 🥀(The making of the world's newest band and love story)
Sam glanced down at his map and up at the hall the map directed him to. He strode through the hall passing a student that sat at the chair against the wall close to the door that said Dean Diego Velázquez playing on his iPad.
He balled his hand and knocked on the door. Feet tapping anxiously on the ground as he waited after the knock.
Knock knock again on the door, chewing on his inner cheek.
"You're gonna have to wait." Someone said from behind Sam.
He snapped his neck back to the person that spoke. The student that sat on the chair ran his hand through his hair, throwing his grey hood down.
Sam took in the student with dark blonde hair tussled messily on his angular face. His hair looked rough like he'd been running his hand through it one too many times yet it somehow suited laying on his face.
His bright brown eyes glanced up at Sam with a bored glint in them before going back to the screen of his iPad.
He was wearing black pants with a grey hoodie that had a silver colored crest on the chest of the hoodie that had a few words Sam couldn't read with the distance except the boldly written Class 160– Art is life with red thread.
His fingers were tapping away on the iPad screen, a red ring glinted on his finger from the light of the iPad screen. He was wearing black sneakers with Dijacova high written on the soul of the sneaks.
"What?" Sam's eyebrows knitted.
Sounds of clamouring and clashing, along with battle cries were coming from the silver and black iPad in the student's hand.
He glanced up at Sam, and again quickly went back to staring at his screen. "You're gonna have to wait until you're called in."
Sam's frown deepened before realization dawned on his face and he nodded. "Oh, okay."
He took a seat next to the student, glancing at the boy that paid him no mind awkwardly.
Sam's eyes caught the game the student was playing. Zombie RoadKill Sam recognized the game. Sam played the game every time back home, he even created a game identical to Zombie RoadKill because of how much he loved it.
A shadow smile appeared on Sam's face watching the student get swamped by zombies from all corners, losing every time, he'd go back to purchase more grenades and upgrade his guns to start the level again but ended up failing. Sam could almost burst into laughter at the constant failing.
Sam inched closer to get a better view on the game when– "Is there a reason you're staring?" The student paused the game. "Didn't your mom teach you that it's rude?" He was now staring fully at Sam.
Sam's pale cheeks turned pink a little before he cleared his throat and fixed his drooping glasses.
The student's thick brown eyebrows knotted. "Do you speak English?"
Sam scoffed at the statement. "Of course I speak English." The statement was heavily accented but every word was spoken correctly.
He dropped the iPad on his lap. "Sorry, you well, you're Asian so–"
"–So you assumed I could not speak English?" Sam couldn't help the snort....
Sam glanced down at his map and up at the hall the map directed him to. He strode through the hall passing a student that sat at the chair against the wall close to the door that said Dean Diego Velázquez playing on his iPad.
He balled his hand and knocked on the door. Feet tapping anxiously on the ground as he waited after the knock.
Knock knock again on the door, chewing on his inner cheek.
"You're gonna have to wait." Someone said from behind Sam.
He snapped his neck back to the person that spoke. The student that sat on the chair ran his hand through his hair, throwing his grey hood down.
Sam took in the student with dark blonde hair tussled messily on his angular face. His hair looked rough like he'd been running his hand through it one too many times yet it somehow suited laying on his face.
His bright brown eyes glanced up at Sam with a bored glint in them before going back to the screen of his iPad.
He was wearing black pants with a grey hoodie that had a silver colored crest on the chest of the hoodie that had a few words Sam couldn't read with the distance except the boldly written Class 160– Art is life with red thread.
His fingers were tapping away on the iPad screen, a red ring glinted on his finger from the light of the iPad screen. He was wearing black sneakers with Dijacova high written on the soul of the sneaks.
"What?" Sam's eyebrows knitted.
Sounds of clamouring and clashing, along with battle cries were coming from the silver and black iPad in the student's hand.
He glanced up at Sam, and again quickly went back to staring at his screen. "You're gonna have to wait until you're called in."
Sam's frown deepened before realization dawned on his face and he nodded. "Oh, okay."
He took a seat next to the student, glancing at the boy that paid him no mind awkwardly.
Sam's eyes caught the game the student was playing. Zombie RoadKill Sam recognized the game. Sam played the game every time back home, he even created a game identical to Zombie RoadKill because of how much he loved it.
A shadow smile appeared on Sam's face watching the student get swamped by zombies from all corners, losing every time, he'd go back to purchase more grenades and upgrade his guns to start the level again but ended up failing. Sam could almost burst into laughter at the constant failing.
Sam inched closer to get a better view on the game when– "Is there a reason you're staring?" The student paused the game. "Didn't your mom teach you that it's rude?" He was now staring fully at Sam.
Sam's pale cheeks turned pink a little before he cleared his throat and fixed his drooping glasses.
The student's thick brown eyebrows knotted. "Do you speak English?"
Sam scoffed at the statement. "Of course I speak English." The statement was heavily accented but every word was spoken correctly.
He dropped the iPad on his lap. "Sorry, you well, you're Asian so–"
"–So you assumed I could not speak English?" Sam couldn't help the snort....
