Chapter 1: The First Day
(Elena's POV)
The alarm blared beside me, shaking me awake. 6:00 AM.
I groaned, slamming my hand over the old, beaten-down clock to shut it up. The springs creaked under my weight as I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. First day of senior year.
A fresh start. A new school.
And probably the same old problems.
I glanced around my tiny room—the peeling paint on the walls, the small desk cluttered with second-hand books, and the one window that barely let in any sunlight. The smell of coffee and burnt toast wafted in from the kitchen, making my stomach growl.
I threw on my clothes—a simple faded jeans and an oversized sweater—before tying my hair into a messy ponytail. No designer outfits, no expensive accessories. Just me, ready to survive another day.
"Elena! Breakfast is ready!" my little brother, Noah, called from the kitchen.
I grabbed my old backpack and rushed out. Noah, only eight years old, sat at the table, his messy brown curls falling over his forehead as he munched on toast. My mom, working two shifts at the diner, stood near the stove, exhaustion visible in her soft blue eyes.
"Here, baby," she handed me a piece of toast. "I packed you lunch too. I know it's not much—"
"It's perfect, Mom," I cut her off with a smile, hugging her quickly.
She sighed. "I just wish I could give you more."
"Mom, you already do," I assured her, ruffling Noah's hair before grabbing my bag. "I gotta go. Don't want to be late on the first day."
Noah grinned. "Don't let the rich kids bully you, Elena!"
I rolled my eyes. "I'll be fine, kid."
At least, I hoped so.
—
At Ridgewood Academy…
I stepped through the giant iron gates of Ridgewood Academy, and immediately, I felt out of place.
The campus was huge—a red-brick building covered in ivy, expensive cars rolling into the parking lot, and students walking around in designer clothes, flashing their luxury brands like trophies.
I adjusted my old backpack, feeling invisible among them.
"Ugh, who let in the charity cases?"
I turned toward the voice.
A group of girls stood near the school fountain, dressed in matching skirts, flawless makeup, and dripping in wealth.
The leader of the pack, Vanessa DeLuca, smirked at me, her perfectly manicured fingers holding a Starbucks cup.
I ignored them and kept walking.
"Hey, new girl!"
I stopped.
A tall boy with dark brown hair and sharp green eyes leaned against his sleek black car, arms crossed.
I knew who he was before anyone said his name.
Xavier Knight.
The school's golden boy. The rich playboy. The one every girl wanted.
And from the way he was looking at me—like I was some kind of entertainment—I could tell he had already decided I was his next target.
"Did you take the wrong turn? This isn't the public school, sweetheart," he mocked, his lips twisting into a smirk.
I clenched my jaw. Don't engage. Just walk away.
But something about him—the arrogance, the superiority in his tone—made my blood boil.
So, instead of walking away, I looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize Ridgewood Academy was a zoo. Should I have brought peanuts for you?"
Silence.
Someone choked on their drink.
Vanessa's eyes widened, and Xavier?
He just stared at me for a moment before a slow, amused grin spread across his face.
"Interesting," he muttered, tilting his head. "I think I just found my new toy."
What. The. Hell.
And that was how my nightmare at Ridgewood Academy began.
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