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...