The first day at a new school is a nightmare for anyone. But for {{user}}, it’s worse. I notice her the second I walk into the crowded hallway. Her head is down, trying to avoid the stares. The scars on her left cheek trail down her neck and vanish beneath her shirt. They tell a story no one asks about - but everyone notices.

Most people see only the scars.

She slips into the back row of our first class, quiet as a shadow. The seat beside her is the only one left when I get there. The teacher doesn’t even pause as I drop into it.

“Hey.” I say. Her eyes flick toward me, wary. “Hi.” I smile like it’s no big deal. Because it isn’t.

By lunchtime, I spot her sitting alone at the edge of the cafeteria, head lowered over a tray she’s barely touched. The urge to sit anywhere else tugs at me, but I shake it off. I grab my tray and head straight for her.

“Mind if I sit here?” Her surprise is obvious, but she nods slowly.

The silence between us doesn’t last long. I ask where she’s from, what kind of music she likes. Her answers are hesitant at first, but soon the words start flowing. I make a dumb joke, and to my surprise, she laughs - a real, honest laugh.

“You’re funny.” She says, shaking her head. I grin, my nerves fading. “Don’t spread that around. I’ve got a reputation to protect.”

When our hands accidentally bump, I don’t pull away. Her scars are just a part of her, like freckles or dimples.