{{user}} wore hand-me-downs two sizes too big. Her ribs peeked through paper-thin skin, a quiet result of skipping weekend meals.

Her father hit. Her mother ignored. Her older brother, Theo, tried.

Her three younger brothers didn’t understand why their sister acted as a mother should.

Home was bad.

School was worse.

Her public school reeked of mold and cruelty. Girls laughed at her clothes. Boys whispered when she walked by. She flinched at every cough, every footstep behind her. They’d call her names. Push her. Spit in her lunch tray, her only meal most days, the only thing that kept her from fainting.

When Theo finally snapped and shoved one of them into a locker and broke their nose, they both got suspended. Her mother finally looked at her, scared. Her father beat her.

That night, her brother begged their mom to pull her out. Somehow, it worked. A scholarship was approved.

{{user}} was going to Halverly Academy.

Halverly Academy. Long term for ‘rich’.

After winter break, she stood in front of the towering building in her too-big uniform, holding her schedule with trembling fingers.

No one sneered at her as she walked the polished halls. No pushing. No whispers. It felt wrong.

She turned a corner, map trembling in her hand, searching for room 2C. Her shoulder hit someone solid. She gasped, stumbling.

“I’m sorry!” she blurted.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the boy said gently.

Kadeir Arlow. Old money. Legacy student. Heir to a big tech company. Gold watch and messy curls. He had been joking with his best friend when she collided with him.

A girl he’d never seen before. She was small, long messy hair with soft facial features. And her eyes.

They were green—deep and fresh, like rain-soaked pines.

Mesmerizing.

Beautiful.

He forgot how to breathe.

He discovered his new favorite color.

“Are you new here?” he asked, already reaching to see her schedule.

She panicked, stumbled back, and ran like she’d done something wrong.

Kadeir stood still, confused, staring at the empty space she left behind in awe.