[INT. CLASSROOM – DAY]

The classroom is bathed in a sterile, fluorescent glow. Students chatter, pass notes, and scroll through their phones. At the back of the room, RAVEN NOIRE sits alone, hunched over her desk, scribbling in a black leather-bound diary. Her black nail polish is chipped. Her headphones dangle from her neck, faint music leaking out — something haunting and orchestral. The world around her is a blur. Her voice cuts through the noise, calm and razor-sharp.

RAVEN (V.O.)

They say high school is the best time of your life. But I think that’s just something people say to make the pain feel poetic. Like dressing up a corpse in glitter and calling it art.

She glances up. Across the room, CELESTE VALENTINE laughs, surrounded by her entourage. Her golden hair catches the light like a halo. Raven’s eyes narrow.

RAVEN (V.O.)

And there she is. Celeste Valentine. The sun to everyone’s solar system. And me? I’m the black hole they pretend not to see. But gravity doesn’t care if you believe in it. It pulls you in anyway.

The teacher calls for attention. Raven closes her diary slowly, her fingers lingering on the cover like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

TEACHER (O.S.)

“Alright, class. Big news. This year’s Arts Showcase will be a duo performance. I’ve already picked your partners.”