The sky was a heavy gray, pressing down like an omen as Airam Solace stood at the iron gates of Crestwood Heights Academy. She shivered, pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders. The school loomed before her, a dark labyrinth of stone towers and winding corridors, each window glaring down like a warning. She’d read about the Academy, and seen pictures online, but none of them had captured the cold grandeur that met her now.
Airam took a breath, forcing her feet to move forward. The gravel path felt endless, bordered by skeletal trees reaching upward as if grasping at the last drops of daylight. She could hear faint whispers of laughter from somewhere in the distance, but it was swallowed up by the wind. This wasn’t just any school; it was an institution, a place where only the most talented or connected thrived.
For her, it was an opportunity—but also a threat. As Airam approached the towering entrance, a pang of homesickness tightened her chest. She missed Lowell, Massachusetts—the comfort of familiar streets and sounds. But she didn’t miss how she’d been treated, her differences setting her apart like a wrong note in a song. Her mother had called it a blessing, this chance to start fresh at Crestwood Heights Academy, and the move had meant a new job as a chef in New York.
Finally reaching the imposing double doors, Airam adjusted her black bag, took a steadying breath, and stepped inside. She glanced at the paper in her hand: Principal’s Office, Room 400. The students milling around the entrance hall barely spared her a glance, yet their presence felt stifling. Their sleek clothes and confident strides only made her feel more out of place, as if she were back in her old schools, unseen but judged. She passed an antique mirror and caught a glimpse of herself: a Greek girl with tan skin and black hair, her purple lace tank top under a striped sweater, paired with a jean skirt, black leggings, and sturdy boots. She adjusted her sweater slightly, feeling a sudden urge to blend in—and a quiet determination not to. Airam hesitated at the door labeled Principal’s Office, Room 400, then knocked lightly. A voice inside called for her to enter, and she pushed open the door, finding herself in a quiet, dimly lit room filled with bookshelves and dark wood furniture. Behind a large desk sat the principal, but Airam’s attention was drawn to the girl standing by the window, looking out over the fog-covered campus.
“Ah, Miss Solace, welcome,” the principal said, gesturing toward her. “This is Dahlia Anisley, one of our junior students just like you. She’ll be showing you around today.”
Dahlia turned and met Airam’s gaze with a bright, easy smile. She was striking—her long, light brown hair framed her face, and she wore a loose, vintage jacket over a floral dress paired with combat boots. There was a casual confidence in the way she stood as if Crestwood Heights was as familiar to her as her own home.
“Hi, Airam!” Dahlia said, her voice warm. “Ready for the grand tour?”
Airam managed a small smile, nodding. “Yeah. Thanks for, you know, doing this.”
“No problem.” Dahlia’s smile widened. “Everyone needs a friend on their first day.”
As they walked out of the office and down the wide, dim corridors, Dahlia pointed out classrooms, faculty offices, and study lounges, filling the silence with stories about the school’s quirks. She shared funny anecdotes, like how one of the science teachers kept a pet tarantula in his office, and how the third-floor stairwell was supposedly haunted.
“Haunted?” Airam raised an eyebrow, half-laughing, half-dreading what else this place might hold.
Dahlia chuckled. “That’s what they say, anyway. I haven’t seen any ghosts myself, but hey, it keeps things interesting.” She glanced sideways at Airam, her expression softening. “So… how’s it feeling so far?”
Airam shrugged, glancing down. “Big. And maybe a little terrifying.”
Dahlia nodded, her gaze understanding. “I get it. I transferred here in tenth grade. Crestwood can be intense, but once you find your people, it’s not so bad.”
Airam felt some of her nervousness ease. “Maybe I’ll find mine here too.”
Dahlia grinned. “You will.”
Dahlia handed Airam a paper with her schedule scrawled in neat handwriting.
“Looks like you’re starting with English Lit. Not a bad way to ease into things,” Dahlia said, her tone encouraging. She leaned over the paper, tapping the classes as she listed them off. “Then you’ve got History, a study period, and Art Appreciation after lunch.” She glanced up, a spark of excitement in her eyes. “And it looks like we’re both in Chemistry—right after lunch.”
Airam felt a small wave of relief. A familiar face in at least one class. “Chemistry, huh? Hopefully, I’m not terrible at it,” she said with a slight smile.
Dahlia laughed. “I can’t promise it’s easy, but I’ll help you if you need it.” Her voice softened. “Fair warning, though: that’s the class where you’ll meet Irene Thacher.”
“Irene Thacher?” Airam repeated, noting the way Dahlia’s expression shifted.
Dahlia nodded, her smile fading. “She’s… well, let’s just say she’s Crestwood’s version of a celebrity. And not exactly known for her kindness.”
Airam’s stomach twisted slightly, but she straightened, determined not to let nerves get the best of her. “Got it.”
Airam and Dahlia went their separate ways; Airam's first few classes passed in a blur. In English Lit, she slipped into a seat near the back, feeling a dozen pairs of eyes slide her way. Most students only glanced at her before turning back to their friends, but some gave her lingering looks—curious, sizing her up. She wasn’t sure if they were impressed or just assessing how much of a threat she was.
By the time History rolled around, Airam was already feeling worn down. Her teacher barely acknowledged her, and as she scanned the room, she caught whispers here and there, snippets of laughter that stopped just a bit too quickly when she looked over. Crestwood Heights was starting to feel like a maze of expectations and unspoken rules, and Airam wasn’t sure where she fit.
During her study period, Airam tried to shake off the tension. She opened her notebook, attempting to review her schedule, but her mind kept drifting. It was then, as she looked up from her page, that she saw it—a shadowy figure, just barely visible out of the corner of her eye, slipping around the corner outside the classroom. She blinked, heart skipping, but when she looked again, it was gone.
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Her pulse quickened as she stared at the spot where it had vanished. Just nerves, she told herself, though a faint chill lingered. When the bell rang, Airam gathered her things and headed to her next class, hoping the uneasy feeling would pass.
Airam scanned the bustling cafeteria, clutching her lunch bag tightly. She’d spent the morning feeling like a stranger in a well-rehearsed play, each student moving with purpose and belonging. But here, amid the sea of tables and chatter, she felt even more out of place.
“Airam! Over here!”
Dahlia’s voice cut through the noise, and Airam spotted her waving from a table near the window. She exhaled in relief and headed over, grateful for a familiar face.
“Surviving so far?” Dahlia asked, grinning as Airam took a seat.
Airam gave a half-laugh, unpacking her lunch—a container of small spinach and feta cheese pies, dolmades wrapped neatly in grape leaves, a cucumber-tomato salad sprinkled with feta and olives, and a piece of honey-soaked baklava for dessert. Dahlia’s eyes widened with a curious smile.
“Wow, that smells amazing,” Dahlia said, eyeing the meal. “Did you make this?”
Airam shook her head, smiling a little. “My mom did. She, uh, kind of insisted I bring ‘something nourishing’ for my first day.”
Dahlia laughed, leaning in to admire the contents. “I’d say she succeeded.” She gestured toward her own bento box, then gave a conspiratorial smile. “We’ll definitely be the most popular table—at least food-wise.”
As Airam took a bite of her spanakopita Airam felt herself relaxing, smiling as Between the warm taste of her mother’s food and Dahlia’s easy humor, Airam finally felt something other than nerves. For the first time since she’d arrived, she felt a little more at home. She glanced around the room, taking in the vibrant energy of Crestwood Heights Academy.
“So, who should I know about?” Airam asked, trying to sound casual as she leaned forward, eager to learn about her new classmates.
Dahlia smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, there’s Freya Harkin, Phoebe’s older sister. She’s in the cosmetic club and always has the latest trends down. Super nice, but just a little boy-crazy,” Dahlia said, rolling her eyes playfully.
Airam raised an eyebrow. “Boy-crazy, huh?”
“Oh, totally! You’ll see. Then there’s Iris Quill—Freya’s best friend. She’s a science whiz and has this calming energy about her. You’ll probably like her,” Dahlia continued, her tone shifting to one of admiration. “She’s the type you can confide in without feeling judged.”
“Sounds like someone I’d get along with,” Airam replied, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Now, let’s not forget Jericho, Irene’s older brother,” Dahlia said, her voice dropping slightly as she glanced around the cafeteria. “He’s a real sweetheart. Always looking out for Irene and kind of the unofficial protector of the group.”
Airam took note of Dahlia’s emphasis on Irene. “And he’s not intimidating like his sister?”
“Not at all! He’s actually really laid-back, just a bit intense like her. He has a magnetic presence, though. And then there’s Phoebe Harkin—Freya’s younger sister. She’s headstrong and fierce, the kind of girl you want on your side in a fight,” Dahlia added with a grin.
Airam felt a surge of warmth at the thought of having allies. “And what about the others? Who else should I watch out for?”
Dahlia leaned in closer, her voice conspiratorial. “Pandora is intriguing. She’s a bit strange like she’s always plotting something. And then there’s Sean—skinny and goofy but super loyal. He’s really close with Phoebe and always ready to crack a joke.”
Airam’s interest piqued. “And Vivica and Katherine?”
Dahlia's expression shifted slightly, her brow furrowing. “They’re part of Irene’s crew, and they can be bad influences. You know, the kind of friends who might lead you into trouble. But they have their moments, too.”
Airam glanced around the cafeteria, her eyes landing on Irene, who was laughing with her friends, an effortless confidence radiating from her. “This place feels intense, but I think I can handle it,” she said, a spark of determination igniting within her.
“Good attitude,” Dahlia replied, beaming. “Just remember, it’s all about finding your people. You’ve got me, at least.”
As they finished their lunch, Airam felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. With Dahlia by her side and a school full of colorful characters waiting to be discovered, she was ready to embrace the challenges ahead.
After finishing their lunch, Airam and Dahlia made their way to Chemistry. The hallway buzzed with energy as students rushed to their next classes, laughter echoing off the walls. Airam felt a mix of excitement and anxiety as she walked beside Dahlia, her heart quickening at the thought of what lay ahead.
“Just remember, it’s just a class,” Dahlia said, trying to reassure her. “And I’m right here with you.”
“Right,” Airam replied, taking a deep breath. “Just a class.”
As they approached the door, the chatter from inside the classroom spilled out into the hallway. Dahlia opened the door, and they stepped inside, the atmosphere instantly shifting from the loud hallway to a quieter, focused energy. Students were already seated, and the teacher was scribbling notes on the whiteboard at the front.
Airam scanned the room, her stomach tightening when her gaze landed on Irene. She was seated at the center table, an effortless aura of command surrounding her. Irene wore a fitted black Vive Maria tank top that showcased her striking figure, paired with high-waisted black shorts that accentuated her long legs. Underneath, she had on flower-printed stockings that added an unexpected pop of color and a sense of playful rebellion to her otherwise dark outfit.
Irene’s long, wavy black hair cascaded around her shoulders, and silver rings adorned her fingers, some set with stones that shimmered in the light—obsidian and amethyst, casting a hint of mystery around her. What struck Airam most was the energy Irene exuded—a blend of confidence and mystery that pulled people in, making it hard for anyone to look away. There was an intensity in her gaze, dark and captivating as if she could see right through the façade everyone put on. Airam felt both drawn to and intimidated by her, a magnetic force that made her heart race and her palms sweat.
“Hey, look at you,” Irene said, her tone casual, but with an underlying challenge that sent a shiver down Airam’s spine. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Um, yeah,” Airam replied, trying to keep her voice steady, but she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. “I’m new.”
Irene smirked, leaning forward just enough to give off an air of intrigue mixed with intimidation. “I noticed,” she said, her voice low and smooth. “We don’t get many new girls. They usually don’t last long.”
Airam’s stomach flipped. “I’m hoping to change that,” she said, trying to sound confident, though the weight of Irene’s gaze felt heavy.
“Good luck with that,” Irene replied, her eyes glinting with something unreadable. She turned her attention back to her friends, but Airam could feel the tension hanging in the air, a silent challenge lingering between them.
As the teacher started the lesson, Airam focused on the notes in front of her, stealing glances at Irene. She felt a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Who was this girl,really? And why did she feel like she was already being tested?
Dahlia leaned closer, whispering, “Don’t let her get to you. She’s all bark.”
Airam nodded, but inside, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Irene was going to be a bigger part of her life at Crestwood Heights than she wanted.