Chapter 3: First Day, First Mess

Yuna's POV

I woke up to the sound of Lily's alarm blasting some aggressively cheerful pop song straight into my soul.

For a second, I forgot where I was. The bed was too small, the walls were covered in unicorn stickers, and there was a stuffed octopus staring directly at me from the shelf.

Oh. Right. Lily's room. My temporary prison until my actual room was finished.

I groaned, rolling onto my stomach. My body felt like it had been hit by a truck. Or maybe several trucks, each carrying a shipment of regret.

Last night had been a disaster. First, the cockroach.Then almost getting caught by Aunt Rosa and having to pretend I was deeply contemplating the mysteries of soup at two in the morning.

And for what? I didn't even finish the lyrics. I gave up and dragged myself back to Lily's room, where she had stolen all the blankets in her sleep and mumbled something about magical ponies.

Now, the alarm was still going, the song looping for what felt like the hundredth time.

I peeked over at Lily, who was still out cold, her face smushed against her pillow, drooling slightly.

A betrayal. Her alarm, her obnoxiously happy song, yet I was the one suffering.

With a deep sigh, I accepted my fate.

I was late.

Probably very late.

But honestly? I had already lost the battle. I wasn't about to lose my dignity too by panicking about it.

So, instead of jumping out of bed in a frantic rush, I simply rolled over and stared at the ceiling for a moment, allowing the crushing weight of responsibility to settle over me like a blanket I would never emotionally recover from.

Then, moving at the speed of someone who had absolutely given up, I got up. Stretched. Scratched my head.

Slowly—so, so slowly—I made my way to the bathroom, dragging my feet across the floor like a zombie.

I was late. Whatever.

What were they gonna do? Make me more late?

And then after I took a shower I immediately went down to find out that breakfast was an absolute joke.

Aunt Rosa had taken one look at me and decided I was a malnourished child in need of urgent intervention.

She kept piling food onto my plate, muttering about how skinny I was, while I struggled to keep up with Lily's endless chatter about unicorns, secret hideouts, and something called the Great Friendship Test.

"You need rice to survive the day, Yuna!" Aunt Rosa declared, dramatically scooping another mountain onto my plate.

"And meat! You look like a strong wind could knock you over."

I was about to protest, but Lily took that moment to shove a spoonful of something suspiciously sticky into my hand.

"Try this, Ate! I made it myself!"

I stared at the unidentifiable blob. "Uh… what is it?"

Lily grinned. "A surprise!"

Before I could figure out if the surprise was edible, Uncle Ramon clapped his hands.

"Alright, Yuna, let's go! We don't want you getting lost on your first day!"

Saved by the uncle.

I barely had time to shove a few spoonfuls of food into my mouth before I was ushered outside and into his ancient van—the kind that made questionable noises whenever it hit a bump.

As we pulled away from the house, I sighed and adjusted my bag, trying to mentally prepare for the day ahead. At least this time, I had learned my lesson.

Inside my bag, neatly folded and wrapped in a plastic bag, was a backup uniform. Because after everything this town had thrown at me in the last twenty-four hours, I wasn't about to take any chances.

Call it paranoia. Call it self-preservation. But something deep in my soul told me—something was going to go wrong.

And I was right.

Because the moment I stepped out of the van, the universe personally decided to ruin my life.

It happened so fast, yet in perfect slow motion—one second, I was walking toward the school gate, half-awake but surviving.

The next, a motorcycle came out of nowhere, speeding through the street like it was in an action movie.

Straight through a massive, muddy puddle.

A puddle I absolutely did not see.

And just like that—

SPLASH.

Cold, wet, disgusting mud exploded everywhere.

All over my skirt. My socks. My shoes. My soul.

Uncle Ramon—who had barely pulled away—honked. Whether it was a honk of sympathy or amusement, I would never know, because the traitor drove off immediately after.

I just stood there, frozen, staring down at the complete disaster that was now my uniform.

The silence was deafening.

Then, a group of students walked past me.

A group of students walked past me.

"Oh, man," one guy snickered. "That's rough."

A girl elbowed him. "Don't laugh, or karma's gonna get you."

Another guy—not even trying to hide his amusement—grinned. "Welcome to San Esteban High."

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.

I could scream.

I could cry.

I could drop out and run away to live in the mountains.

Instead, I just exhaled, nodded to myself, and accepted my fate.

Good thing I packed that extra uniform.

I turned to the guy who had been grinning at my misery.

"Where's the faculty office?" I asked, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible.

He pointed down the hall. "End of that corridor. Big sign. You can't miss it."

"And the bathroom?"

"Left side, near the stairwell."

"Thanks."

With as much dignity as I could muster while covered in mud, I walked away. My shoes made an unfortunate squelch with every step. I pretended not to notice.

First order of business,get out of these clothes before I started looking like a swamp creature haunting the hallways.

After cleaning up and changing into the spare uniform I had wisely packed, I took a deep breath and made my way to the faculty office.

The hallway was packed with students catching up with friends, half-heartedly copying homework, and rushing to their morning classes.

I clutched my damp uniform in a plastic bag and kept my head down, pretending I wasn't the new kid who had just made an embarrassing first impression on the school grounds.

The faculty office was a flurry of activity.

Teachers bustled around, flipping through stacks of papers, answering calls, and discussing lesson plans. It took me a few moments to locate someone who wasn't swamped with work.

A woman in her late forties, with neatly tied hair and sharp eyes that looked like they could see straight into my soul, glanced up from her paperwork.

"You must be the transferee," she said before I could even introduce myself.

I nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Yuna Castellano."

She hummed in acknowledgment, flipping through a file on her desk. "Your documents are in order. Since everyone else is busy, I'll be handling your enrollment process."

I nodded again, unsure what to say. She was the type of person who didn't waste words, and I had no plans of making a fool of myself in front of her.

After signing a few more papers, she handed me a single sheet. "Here's your schedule. Your class adviser is already in the room, so just head straight there."

I clutched the paper like it contained my last will and testament and stepped out of the office. Okay. Easy enough. Second floor.

Room 2-A. Just walk in and—

I took a wrong turn immediately.

In my defense, the layout of this school was confusing.

The hallways all looked the same, the room numbers weren't in perfect order, and the students moving around like it was rush hour in Manila didn't help. Eventually, I spotted my classroom number and let out a relieved breath before stepping inside.

Silence.

Thirty heads turned to look at me. Some curious. Some confused. A girl in the front row straight-up raised an eyebrow, like I had just walked into her house uninvited.

The teacher, a bespectacled man in his mid-thirties who had been in the middle of writing something on the board, turned to me with an equally confused expression.

"Can I help you?"

I blinked. "Uh… This is Class 2-A, right?"

The teacher adjusted his glasses. "This is Class 2-B."

Oh.

Oh no.

My soul briefly left my body.

"Right. Haha. My bad. Wrong room. Please, pretend this never happened," I said, voice already halfway out the door.

A few students chuckled as I practically fled.

Luckily, as soon as I stepped out, I spotted another teacher standing nearby, who had clearly seen the whole thing. She sighed like she had already decided I was going to be a problem and motioned for me to follow her.

"This way," she said, leading me to the correct room. "Your class is here."

I muttered a quiet, "Thank you," before stepping inside.

This time, I knew it was the right room because my actual homeroom teacher—a woman in her late thirties with a strict but not unkind face—was standing at the front. She looked up as I entered, already expecting me.

"You must be Yuna Castellano."

I forced a smile, trying to ignore the weight of my new classmates' stares. "Yes, ma'am."

She nodded, motioning for me to introduce myself. "Go on."

Great. Just what I needed. Another chance to embarrass myself.

I swallowed down the nerves, squared my shoulders, and prepared for my second terrible first impression of the day.

I stood there, forcing a polite smile, while my new homeroom teacher gave me an expectant look. Right. Introductions. I could do this. 

I cleared my throat. "Uh… hi. I'm Yuna Castellano. I just transferred here." 

Silence. 

Okay. That was it. That was all I had. 

I awkwardly shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Was I supposed to say more? Like, 'I like long walks on the beach, secretly writing songs at ungodly hours, and getting lost in schools that are way too big?' 

Before my brain could decide how much worse I could make this situation, my teacher thankfully moved things along.

"Welcome to 2-A, Yuna. You can take that empty seat near the window." 

Ah, yes. The classic anime protagonist seat. Fantastic. 

I nodded and quickly shuffled to my new desk, keeping my head down to avoid any unnecessary eye contact. The moment I sat, I let out a breath and tried to shrink into my chair. Maybe if I stayed very, very still, people would just forget I existed. 

No such luck. 

Roll call started, and I let my mind wander as the teacher went through the list of names. I had barely slept last night, and my brain was still struggling to process the sheer amount of chaos my morning had already thrown at me.

Mud. Wrong classroom. Social humiliation. An overall terrible start. 

I sighed internally. Maybe if I survived the rest of today without another disaster, I could count this as a win. 

"Castellano, Yuna." 

I blinked. 

Wait. That was my name. 

The entire class turned to stare at me. 

Oh. Oh no. 

The teacher raised an eyebrow. "Yuna Castellano?" 

It took me a full three seconds to realize I was supposed to answer. "Oh! Present! Sorry! I—uh—zoned out." 

The teacher gave me a look, half exasperated, half amused. The rest of the class, on the other hand, looked even more confused than before. 

I could already hear the whispers. 

"She forgot her own name?" 

"Did she just dissociate mid-roll call?" 

"Is she okay?" 

No. No, I was not okay. 

I sank lower in my seat, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow me whole. 

To be continued.