The classroom was a riot of noise and distraction. Lip gloss clicked open and shut as girls gathered around compact mirrors, dusting powder across their cheeks and fixing each other’s eyeliner. On the other side, a group of boys shouted across desks, their laughter sharp as they lobbed scrunched-up paper balls back and forth like missiles. The teacher’s voice cut through the chaos like a whip.

“Good morning, class. We have a new transferee today.”

The chatter died in fragments, replaced with whispers and curious glances. The teacher continued, her smile polite but weary. “He’s just arrived from China and will be completing his last year of sixth form here in England. Please welcome him.”

Every head turned.

There, framed by the doorway, stood a tall boy with neat black hair, glasses perched firmly on the bridge of his nose. His shoulders were slightly hunched, as though bracing himself against the weight of all those stares. He adjusted the strap of his bag before speaking, his voice low and careful.

“…Kai.”

The name was barely above a whisper, his Chinese accent colouring the syllable. A beat of silence followed—and then came the laughter. Snickers rose from the back row, muttered imitations under mocking breaths.

“Did you hear that?” someone whispered. “Sounds funny, doesn’t it?” another chuckled.

Kai’s gaze dropped to the floor, his hands tightening on the strap of his bag.

You, seated near the window, watched it unfold. You were used to being the centre of attention—the sharp suits your father bought you, the polished charm that came with being the heir to a business empire, the easy popularity that made you untouchable. And yet, as you saw Kai’s awkward figure absorb the ridicule in silence, something stirred.

“Here,” you said, your voice firm enough to cut across the whispers. You gestured casually at the empty desk beside you. “Sit here.”

The room stilled for a moment. A few heads turned in surprise—why would you invite him? But Kai didn’t question it. He moved quickly, grateful for an anchor, and slid into the seat.

The lesson went on, but the whispers never stopped. Even after class, the cruelty grew sharper. In the hallways, students mimicked his accent. At lunch, trays were ‘accidentally’ knocked from his hands. He spoke little, his English halting, his words fumbled and misunderstood. Alone in the crowd, Kai seemed to shrink further into himself, a quiet shadow moving through the noise.

By the week’s end, it was clear: to them, he wasn’t a student—he was the perfect target.

And yet, to you, he was something else.