[ A New Day ]

Geoffrey woke up in sweat, sitting on his small bed while blankly staring at the door before him.

He stood still for several minutes, as if his brain was slowly turning on one process at a time. 

The transition from sleep to awaken was always a rough one. He could've made breakfast or coffee, but not having a kitchen or food made this impossible. 

Where would I even put it?

He looked around, and the only space was under the bed, where three drawers were available. The only other option was the desk, but that meant he wouldn't be able to use it if he stored food on top of it.

He yawned and got up on his feet.

That must be the pamphlet miss Jenny talked about yesterday.

He sat at the desk, hitting the chair against the bed.

It was surprisingly useful.

A lot of information was available on it, notably the assignments. Major assignments were described as Death's trials.

Those assignments often-times involved most students in a class, or a year, and points could be easily lost. 

Voting for a class president was their first major assignment, it would be hard to fail it. Not only it was almost impossible to fail a vote, they had a whole week to prepare for it.

There were more assignments, smaller in nature and optional. Completing those was often-times risk free, and awarded some progression toward the next grade. 

Those assignments would appear on the student's profile, or could be acquired through other means not described on the pamphlet.

The question is, do I open mine?

He looked around his room, debating the idea. He was quite curious, who knew if Death had done anything to him worth seeing on his profile. 

However, there was a chance someone was watching.

He closed his eyes for a moment, in thought.

Gifts. 

Giving everyone one made no sense. What does it accomplish?

If someone had a gift allowing them to see into his room, opening his profile meant giving away information about him, such as his own personal gift. 

The eyes of the beholder, huh?

Not only he didn't choose his gift, but he didn't even get to see the list, something others could do. An outcome most-likely intentional, he firmly believed.

Others knew what the list had to offer, while Geoffrey only had his imagination.

The next part that seemed interesting on the pamphlet was cellphones. They exist and can be used to communicate. 

For people who can't afford one, you could use a system resembling the student profile, it was a floating 'magical' screen that allowed sending messages, using the black card.

The pamphlet emphasized that only text messages could be sent through this system. Calls, voice memos, and most other functionalities were only available on a cellphone.

Apparently, this text message system, like the student profile, could be de-activated by staff for various reasons, which meant it could be useless during trials.

Not very reliable, thought Geoffrey. 

He dropped the pamphlet back on the desk once done reading through it. A lot of useful information came from it, but nothing was game-changing.

He prepared himself the best he could, taking a shower with his uniform hanging inside from the door, hoping to use the steam to remedy the wrinkles caused by him sleeping with it.

After a long, steamy shower, he got out. He didn't use shampoo, and barely used the available soap in a rationing effort.

He'd need to make everything last a bit longer.

Going from the dorms to the school wasn't a bad experience. Everyone was walking, some in groups while a lot were alone.

Going through the gardens in the morning was quite enjoyable. The light softly shining on the grass, the flowery smell taking everyone far away.

He hated the thought that all of it was designed to mess with them.

But it was a nice experience, despite that.

He finally arrived and sat at his desk, his gaze set through the window, watching students who were walking around the school grounds with barely any worries.

Voices brought his attention back. From the hallways, he recognized Rei approaching.

He appeared, quickly followed by Peter.

"Ah, good morning, Geoffrey. You're early."

"Yeah. I slept early," he replied.

Rei let himself fall in his chair, tilting his head backward while he looked at the ceiling.

"I thought I was fine," he said, "but I could barely sleep. I'll need some time to adjust to this place."

Geoffrey hummed in agreement.

Peter just nodded at Geoffrey while he got to his own seat.

People started coming in, sometimes in pair or alone, the class brightly taking life as time passed by. 

Then Leo arrived, awkwardly waving at Geoffrey, who waved back.

It seemed to make Leo's day, as he smiled and quickly sat down.

Jet was the loudest arrival. 

As expected, he was a morning person. He looked refreshed, energized and ready to go.

"Hello everyone!!!" he shouted.

"Hey Jet." "Hello." "Morning'"

Jet's smile was extremely bright. He reached his seat, throwing himself into it sideways, both his hands resting on Geoffrey's desk.

"Sup! Slept well?" he asked.

"It was fine," replied Geoffrey.

"Oh, well, I slept like a king. I found this restaurant in town, they make crazy good pizzas. Not the gourmet type, but the greasy yet amazing type."

"You could afford that?" asked Geoffrey.

Rei joined the conversation. "Yeah, how can you afford it?"

Jet's face displayed a smug smile, proud of himself.

"Huh-huh! You would like to know huh? You really can't handle not knowing, huh? Maybe I'll tell you... maybe not? I can't let your envy grow too much, can I? I'm merciful, maybe I should..."

Geoffrey and Rei sighed in unison. 

A rumbling could be heard in the hallway leading to the classroom. A commotion that was getting closer.

Most students in the classroom turned toward the door.

It opened with a loud 'bang' sound as it slid into the wall.

The silence inside the classroom was heavy, the only one that could be heard was Jet in the back, still talking as-if people answered him.

In the door frame stood Emilia, her face distorted by anger.

"JET."

Jet faced Geoffrey, sitting in his chair backward. 

He didn't even bother turning around, waving his hand in the air as if to say 'yeah yeah, I don't care'.

She walked through the classroom in what was almost a perfectly straight line, shoving desks aside, students quickly standing out of the way.

She got closer, her fist clenched while her veins popped out of her forehead.

Something's about to go down.

Geoffrey stood up, imitated by Rei and Peter.

His eyes leaped across the classroom. 

Like a chain reaction, everything felt slowed down as everyone quickly moved around.

Emilia's fist raised, ready to hammer it down.

Rei and Peter threw themselves on her, trying to hold her arms to keep her away from him.

Jet deviously smiled, lightning appearing in his hand as he quickly turned around, ready to strike.

That's what he waited for.

Emilia wouldn't be able to block him, as Peter and Rei were trying to hold her back. They both turned their heads and realized too late they wouldn't be able to stop Jet.

Geoffrey moved quickly, interposing himself in-between them.

Jet stopped his fist that was crackling with lightning moments before it hit him.

Both Rei and Peter focused on holding Emilia back, as Geoffrey stood like an expressionless wall between them.

"I'll fucking kill you!" shouted Emilia.

"Move out of the way," said Jet, with an unamused expression.

"Stop," said Geoffrey, raising both his arms sideways in a defensive fashion.

"She's threatening me, I need to defend myself," he said, his smile growing.

"Not you," replied Geoffrey monotonously.

Jet looked down to his right, next to Geoffrey, behind his raised arms.

He shivered, cold sweat running down his spine, as he shrieked and jumped backward, his back hitting against the window frame.

Leo, the anxious student, was barely visible under Geoffrey's arm with a knife he recognized from the cafeteria in his hand.

Leo's eyes weren't devious, or playful like Jet's. They were ice cold. He wasn't going to make a show, he wasn't going warn, or give him a chance. He wasn't going to say something clever, or give him any time to explain himself.

He would've just struck.