Bella stood at the edge of the shared bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth while trying not to look too out of place.
Around her, the soft hum of a dozen morning activities buzzed through the room. Hair dryers whirred, makeup brushes swept across cheeks, and the scent of lavender shampoo mixed with deodorant and perfume.
It was loud and a bit chaotic to Bella. She wasn't used to this dormitory setting. Being a day student in Brookside High, she was used to dressing alone in her room, having her full-length mirror all to herself. But this was a different rhythm, carried by the girls of Whitethorn.
Bella, however, was out of step.
"Is that the new girl?" someone whispered, near the sinks.
She glanced up into the mirror just in time to catch the reflection of two girls at the far end of the room watching her. One of them, a blonde with a silver clip in her hair, leaned closer to her friend with a smirk. "She's pretty."
"Hmm. Pretty? Do your eyes work?" the other girl spat disgustedly.
"I heard she didn't even apply. Just showed up here," another replied. "Who the hell is she?"
Bella rinsed her mouth and set her toothbrush down carefully on the edge of her travel kit. She tried to ignore them. But the voices were becoming too much.
She'd felt eyes on her since she left her room that morning. Whispers from every corner of the hallway. It was as if she was both invisible and glaringly obvious all at once.
In the mirror, her face looked the same as always: soft brown skin, almond-shaped eyes, dark hair pulled into a high puff. But something in her eyes was different,that fragile sheen of uncertainty, being in an utterly new environment.
Elara appeared behind her, wrapping a pale pink scarf around her neck. "Ready?"
Bella nodded and grabbed her bag. As they left the bathroom, the whispers resumed, unbothered by Bella's presence.
"Isn't she in Room 27?"
"Corinne's room?"
"Haha. She's in for it."
Bella tightened her grip on her bag strap and said nothing.
---
They made their way down the long hallway leading to the dormitory stairs. Elara catwalked with an ease that Bella envied, very sure, bold steps without a single worry.
Bella followed her past the open common room. One of the girls looked up at them and raised a perfectly manicured brow before whispering something to her friend, who laughed in response.
"Ignore them," Elara said softly as they passed. "They do this to everyone new. Not to mention you, who's resuming in the middle of the term."
Bella managed a small smile. "Do they stare this much too? They're acting like they've never seen a young girl before."
"Oh, absolutely," Elara said, glancing over her shoulder at the lingering looks. "Don't worry. They'll get bored once someone else does something ridiculous. Even you would be amazed at how much they shift interests."
They exited through the main doors of the dormitory, the cold air outside biting gently at their faces. Bella tucked her hands into the sleeves of her cardigan.
"Okay," Elara said, taking the lead again. "You've got Ritual Theory in the north wing, Symbolism with me in the east annex, and… oh." She paused. "You're taking Visual Arts?"
Bella nodded. "Yeah."
"That's with Corinne," Elara muttered, her tone flattening a bit. "She left before sunrise. Didn't even bother to walk together to school with us."
Bella's brows drew together. "She knew we had class together."
Elara just gave a little shrug. "Welcome to Whitethorn," she said.
Bella followed closely behind.
As they turned another corner, two younger students passed them, barely concealing their glances. One of them whispered something behind her hand, and both started laughing.
Bella, making up her mind to not let their actions bother her anymore, kept walking, head high.
"Don't take it personally," Elara said. "They're just curious. And bored."
Bella gave her a sideways glance. "I'm starting to think boredom and curiosity fuel everything in this place."
Elara grinned. "You're not wrong."
---
The art room was located at the far end of a long stone gallery. About a dozen students sat at long tables, with their sketchbooks open in front of them and charcoal stains on their fingers.
Bella stepped inside, feeling like a drop of ink on white silk.
The teacher, a thin woman with sharp cheekbones and silver-threaded braids, looked up from the front desk.
Her eyes narrowed.
"You," she said. "Are you for this class?"
Bella shifted on her feet. "Yes. I'm Bella. I just got admitted yesterday."
A hush fell over the class. Even Corinne, who had been sketching something on her drawing board paused.
The teacher's voice was clipped. "That's not possible. We're halfway through the term. No admissions are processed this late."
Bella hesitated. "I… I'm not sure. My uncle spoke to the school, and I—I got an admission letter."
"Your uncle?" the teacher repeated.
Several heads turned toward her now.
"Who's her uncle?" someone whispered.
"What could he possibly say to get her an admission?"
"Who gets admitted this late?"
"He must be the godson to our headmistress, because—"
The teacher's frown deepened. "Your name?"
"Bella Rivers."
She scanned the register again, flipping through pages. "You're not listed."
Bella lowered her gaze. "I, I don't know what to tell you. I was assigned this class."
The teacher studied her for a long moment. "Very well," she said finally. "Take a seat. You'll work beside Miss Leclair."
Bella looked around. Corinne was the only one who didn't shift in her chair to make space. Her sketchbook remained open, the tip of her pencil still moving, disinterested.
Bella slid into the seat beside her anyway. At least Corinne was the only person she knew in class.
The class continued, but the atmosphere had shifted. Even as the teacher began a lesson on visual display, Bella could feel everyone's eyes on her.
No one else had an uncle who could pull the strings her uncle pulled. No one else had arrived at Whitethorn in the dead of term.
---
After the lesson ended, students began to file out, their voices buzzing with interest. Bella gathered her things slowly, avoiding the curious looks.
"Hey."
She turned.
A boy stood at her side.
Tall, effortlessly graceful, with soft blond hair that curled slightly around his ears. His eyes burned silver-blue beneath thick lashes. There was a subtle strength to him, it made him really noticeable. His uniform clung to him like it had been made for his body alone.
"I'm Killian Wolfe," he said.
Bella blinked. "Hi."
"You're Bella, right? The girl who arrived yesterday."
"Yes."
He smiled, slowly. "Uhh… word has been going around. I don't usually pay attention to their gossip. But you…" He paused, his eyes travelling around her entire body with unhidden interest. "Just your first day in school and you're already irresistible."
Her breath caught slightly.
He stepped closer, almost invading her personal space, close enough that she could smell the subtle hint of garlic in his breath.
"Do you draw?" he asked.
"Sometimes," she said.
"Good. I'd like to see what's in that sketchbook of yours." His voice dropped a little. "I could show you mine. Somewhere quiet. Away from all this noise and stares. I'm sure you'd like that."
Bella's cheeks warmed. There was something magnetic about him, he should with such boldness like he could command anything done.
But before she could respond—
"Wolfe," a voice cut through the air. "Back off!"
Another boy approached from the doorway, hands in his pockets, a hard challenge oozing from his body.
He was darker in presence, his hair was a darker shade of brown but you could see tiny white streaks, he was a bit more olive-skinned, and deep green eyes. His jaw was sharper, his body, toned to perfection. He had a quieter energy, but it screamed danger. Where Killian was heat, this boy was ice frost.
Bella recognized him instantly.
He was the first person who looked at her when she entered the gates of Whitethorn. That same unreadable, intense stare, now fixed squarely on her again. She felt a slight tremor deep within her core.
"Damaris," Killian drawled. "Didn't realize you'd appointed yourself her keeper."
"I'm not her keeper," Luca Damaris said, stepping closer. "I'm making sure she doesn't waste her time. On you."
Killian's smile didn't reach his eyes. "It's quite funny that you think I'm not worthy of her attention."
The tension crackled like a charged wire between them.
Bella took a step back instinctively, caught between the two boys.
"I don't want anybody's attention," she said softly.
They both turned toward her at the same time.
Luca's expression softened just slightly. "Then walk away from him."
Killian raised an eyebrow. "Or don't. Your choice, Bella. I could make life much easier for you at Whitethorn."
Her name on his lips felt different from Luca's—like a flirtation rather than a warning.
She didn't respond.
The two boys stared at each other again, the kind of stare that screamed they had history. And it wasn't anything peaceful.
Luca took a final step forward. "If you know what's good for you," he murmured to Killian, "stay away from her."
Bella's chest rose and fell as she watched them argue over her.
How much trouble can a girl cause on just her first day of school?