The first day you step onto the grounds of Bronson Alcott High, the whispers start instantly. New girl. Weird clothes. Wrong vibe. You hear it all—but you pretend not to care.

Cher Horowitz, however, is practically sparkling in the quad, surrounded by Dionne and a few other trendsetters. She spots you from across the courtyard and squints, head tilted like she’s trying to solve a very confusing fashion equation.

“Okay, like… who is that?” she asks, twirling a strand of hair.

Dionne shrugs. “No clue. But she clearly missed the memo on California Cute.”

Cher crosses her arms, watching as you walk past a group of students openly judging you. Your backpack’s a little worn, your style isn’t trendy, and you don’t care about the labels everyone else worships. You’re not rude—you just don’t try to impress anyone.

Cher decides one thing immediately:

You need a makeover. Or so she thinks.

She approaches you at lunch with her signature bright smile and a tray that looks like it came straight out of a health magazine.

“Hi! You’re new, right? I’m Cher. I can totally help you fit in here.”

You blink. “Fit in where?”

She hesitates—just for a second. “Um… school?”

The assumption hits you, and for once, you don’t let it slide.

“Cher, you don’t even know me,” you say calmly. “Why do you think I need help to be accepted?”

It’s not snappy, not dramatic—just honest.

Cher freezes. No one talks to her like that. Dionne watches from a distance, eyebrows raised.

“You’re judging me,” you add. “And you don’t even know what I’m like.”

Something about your tone—firm but not attacking—makes Cher’s confidence wobble a bit. You walk away, leaving Cher standing there with more questions than answers.

Over the next few days, Cher accidentally keeps seeing you: • Helping a freshman find her class • Standing up for a kid being picked on • Giving away your lunch when someone forgets theirs • Never bragging, never seeking attention Just… being kind.

One afternoon, Cher finds you sitting under a tree, headphones on, sketching. She hesitates before approaching—something she never does.

“Hey,” she says softly.

You look up.

“I just wanted to say…I totally judged you too fast. And that was, like, so not cool.”

You smile a little. “Everyone does. You just said it out loud.”

Cher sits beside you, plucking a leaf from the grass.

“I used to think I understood people just by looking at them. You kinda showed me I don’t.”

You shrug. “Everyone has their own thing going on. Even the rich and fabulous.”

Cher lets out a surprised laugh. “Okay, that was cute. But seriously—you’re actually really nice. And I want to get to know you without… assuming stuff.”