------Some girls wear flowers in their hair. Some carry knives in their smiles-------
The final bell of the day rang like a mercy call, and Elora exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours. She stood in the middle of the hallway, clutching her schedule, staring down the river of students flooding around her. Voices overlapped. Lockers slammed. Footsteps echoed like the drumming of some tired, monstrous heart.
And then Jessi was there, vibrant and loud as ever, bursting through the crowd like a flare of energy.
"Hey! Survived your first day without combusting—gold star!" Jessi grinned, looping her arm through Elora's without warning. "Now we feast."
"I'm not really—" Elora began.
"Too late. No one skips cafeteria on their first day. It's tradition. Even if you just stand there awkwardly with a juice box, it must be done."
Elora let herself be pulled down the corridor, grateful for Jessi's presence—like sunlight punching through fog. The school still felt... tense. Like it was holding its breath. And every glance she'd caught today felt too long, too sharp.
They passed by classroom doors with windows that reflected Elora's shape just a little too slowly. Something about this building felt ancient beneath the fake linoleum and paint.
"Okay," Jessi said as they entered the cafeteria, "before you unload your trauma, ground rules: Don't sit at the long oak table—that's for the Knight family die-hards. Don't eat the chili. And avoid anything purple."
"Purple?"
"Trust me."
The cafeteria was wide, but dim—lit by pale overhead lights that flickered at random. Long wooden tables filled the space, but none of them looked particularly inviting. Still, Jessi claimed a corner booth beneath a dusty window like a queen reclaiming her throne.
Elora dropped into the seat across from her and stared down at the worn tabletop. "So…"
"Lay it on me," Jessi said, popping open a can of something fizzy. "First impressions, strangest teacher, creepiest classmate, go."
Elora rubbed her temples. "It's not even just the people. It's the whole place. Everything's quiet but watching. The halls don't echo right. And everyone was just... staring at me."
Jessi nodded. "Yep. Welcome to the 'New Girl With Mystery Aura' experience. You looked like a heroine in a gothic romance novel walking through the hallway."
"I felt like a frog dissected under a microscope."
"Oh no. It was way more dramatic than that."
Elora gave her a look, but she was smiling.
"My first class," Elora continued, "was history. Mr. Rowan. He's... okay. He kept looking at me like I was a missing page in his textbook, but at least he didn't say anything weird."
Jessi leaned forward. "Mr. Rowan has theories about Hawthorne's foundation. He thinks we're sitting on a spiritual pressure point. He once told us the school was built to anchor old magic underground."
"Well, that tracks."
"And let me guess—your classmates stared too?"
"Every single one. Especially this one girl. Blonde, glossy hair. Looked like she walked out of a perfume ad but with a soul made of vinegar."
Jessi stopped mid-sip and grinned. "Oh, you met Silva Barnes."
"I didn't 'meet' her. She stared at me like I stole her boyfriend and then burned her house down."
"Same thing," Jessi muttered. "Brace yourself. She's about to do her grand promenade."
Right on cue, Silva swept into the cafeteria with her entourage—three girls trailing behind her like perfume-scented shadows. She wore a tailored navy coat over her uniform, every strand of her perfect brunette hair shimmering like it had never met humidity. Her hazel eyes locked on Elora's table like a sniper rifle.
As she passed, she gave Elora a slow once-over—eyes narrowing. Then she leaned slightly toward her nearest follower and whispered something with an exaggerated smirk. The group laughed on cue.
"Charming," Elora muttered.
Jessi rolled her eyes. "Don't worry. She's allergic to personality and intelligence. You'll be fine."
Elora watched Silva walk away, tension still curling in her gut. "Who even is she?"
Jessi stretched, then sat back, cracking her knuckles like she was preparing for a long tale. "Ah, the tale of Silva Barnes. Queen Bee. Hawthorne High's resident goddess of drama, cruelty, and designer handbags."
"You sound like you've rehearsed this."
"Oh, I have. Listen—Silva's family is loaded. Her dad runs half the businesses in Hawthorne, and her mom's on the town council. But more importantly, her family's tied to the Knights. Old money. Old loyalties. You know the type."
Elora blinked. "Wait. The Knight family?"
"Be careful of any one with that surname" Elora recalled Mira's warning
"Mmhmm. Devin Knight—yeah, that Devin—is Silva's prize bull. She's been trying to marry into that legacy since kindergarten. Unfortunately for her, Devin is a nice person and has a working brain. So naturally, he avoids her like the plague. But Silva? Silva doesn't accept defeat. Especially not from new girls who wear mystery like perfume and have weirdly mesmerizing eyes."
"Great," Elora muttered. "So I've made an enemy without trying."
"In Hawthorne, you don't have to try," Jessi said. "Some people are just waiting to hate you."
There was silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of trays and murmured voices. Elora picked at a napkin, her thoughts heavy.
"Why does it feel like everything here is connected?" she said softly. "Like everyone already knows each other's history, but mine's written in invisible ink."
Jessi didn't smile this time. She looked at her, really looked, and said, "Because Hawthorne doesn't forget. And it doesn't let you forget, either."
Jessi leaned back in her seat, fiddling with the tab of her soda can. "Silva's not just rich. She's strategic. She plays people like it's chess, and she's always ten moves ahead. If she doesn't like you, you'll feel it in every hallway."
"I didn't even talk to her."
"That's exactly why she hates you. You didn't bow."
Elora stared at the smear of condensation her drink left on the table. "I don't get it. What makes her feel so untouchable?"
Jessi's grin faded, replaced by something more thoughtful. "It's not just the money or the Knights. Silva's not just part of the social machine here—she is the machine. Her family's been cozy with the Knight family for generations. You know that big estate up on the hill?"
Elora nodded. "The one with the stone gate and iron crest."
"Yeah. That's the Knight residence. Silva spends half her life up there. Summer parties, charity things, whatever elitist rituals they do. Some people say she's practically betrothed to Devin—has been since they were kids."
Elora raised a brow. "And Devin?"
Jessi smirked. "Wants nothing to do with it. He's friendly to everyone, but trust me—he's too kind to be blind. Silva's not subtle. She's been throwing herself at him for years. He never bites."
"Still," Elora said, glancing toward the table where Silva now sat like a queen holding court, "that look she gave me... It wasn't just jealousy. It was like I offended something her entire family." Elora scoffed
"You did," Jessi said. "You walked into her world without asking. And worse—you made an impression."
Elora blinked. "I didn't say anything. I didn't even do anything."
"You don't have to. People like you… you bring change. You are the shift. That kind of presence—it threatens people like her. Especially when they've built an empire on being the center of everything."
Elora looked at her with quiet amusement. "And what about you? Where do you sit in this little empire of social politics?"
Jessi grinned and popped a fry into her mouth. "Me? Oh, I'm the court jester. Loud, unpredictable, impossible to get rid of. I exist outside their rules. They leave me alone mostly because I confuse them."
Elora smiled despite herself. "I'm glad you found me."
Jessi's eyes softened. "No, I'm glad I found you."
Just then, the lights above flickered. The entire cafeteria dimmed for half a heartbeat. Conversations lulled. Trays clattered a little too loudly. The hum beneath the floor that Elora had only faintly noticed all day rose just enough to curl the hairs on the back of her neck.
And then—quietly—something shifted in the ground beneath her feet. A pulse.
Elora stiffened.
"Did you feel that?" she whispered.
Jessi nodded slowly, her expression instantly serious. "Now I did feel it."
"What is it?"
"I don't know. But I think it's been getting stronger since you got here."
They shared a look—uncertain, tense, but grounded in the unspoken understanding forming between them. Then, just as suddenly, the lights brightened again. Students laughed. Food trays slid. Normalcy resumed like nothing had happened.
But Elora knew something had changed.
She stood. "I need air."
Jessi was already standing too. "Let's go."
They left the cafeteria without looking back—without seeing the way Silva's hazel eyes followed them the entire way out, her fork frozen in mid-air, her smile flat and tight.
As they disappeared through the double doors, one of Silva's friends leaned in.
"You're really going to let her walk around like that?"
Silva didn't answer at first.
Then, in a voice colder than ice and just loud enough to carry:
"Let her enjoy the attention. It won't last."