By the end of my first week, I thought maybe, just maybe, I could survive this place.
Anna and Riley had claimed me at lunch like I was already part of their group. Teachers seemed impressed when I took notes seriously, even in classes where half the room was asleep. And Breton—well. He was still Breton.
Everywhere I went, it felt like he was there too. Leaning against lockers, tossing a grin my way in math class, stealing my pen just to make me snap at him. Half the time I wanted to strangle him. The other half… well, I wasn't ready to admit what the other half was.
But what unsettled me more was the whispers. They were faint, just little ripples when I walked past groups in the hallway. Heads bent together. Eyes flicking toward me, then away.
It couldn't be. Not here. Not already.
I shoved the thought aside. Alberta was supposed to be different. I wasn't going to let my past catch up to me.
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Bretons POV
I didn't mean for it to start as a game.
Okay, maybe I did.
At first, I just wanted to know why she walked around like she had secrets stitched into her hoodie. Why her eyes looked tired even when she smiled. Why someone who was supposed to be "new" acted like she'd lived a thousand lives already.
So when the guys and I were hanging out after practice, it slipped out.
"You ever notice the new girl?" I asked, tossing a puck against the wall.
"She's cute," Mason said immediately, grinning.
"High maintenance," added Dylan. "That suitcase of hers screamed Tokyo fashion blogger."
I smirked, but something inside me tightened. "She's not just some random transfer. I swear she's hiding something."
That was all it took. The guys loved a mystery. Soon they were scrolling through socials, typing her name into search bars, pulling up half-translated articles and gossip boards.
"Yo," Mason said, eyes widening as he angled his phone toward me. "Check this out."
There it was. Her name. Ji A. Pictures of her in uniforms from different schools, headlines I could barely make sense of. Expelled. Drama. Fights. Stories that didn't paint her as the quiet, studious girl I'd seen in English class.
"She was kicked out of, like, three schools?" Dylan laughed. "Damn, no wonder she's hiding out here."
I should've laughed too. I should've shrugged and said, Figures.
But instead, I just stared at her photo on Mason's screen. Her smile was bright, sharp, a little reckless—nothing like the guarded look she wore here.
I couldn't stop wondering which version of her was real.
And why I suddenly cared so much.