The doors of Saint Verena Academy were taller than the building I grew up in.
I stood there with my entire life in one frayed duffle bag while girls with glossy hair and rolling suitcases drifted past me like I was part of the stone.
Their uniforms hung perfectly, crisp blazers, pleated skirts that probably cost more than Mom's rent.
Mine were thrift-store jeans and a faded hoodie, the kind that screamed wrong even before they opened their mouth.
I gripped my duffle tighter and pushed through the towering doors of Saint Verena Academy.
Marble floors stretched endlessly under a chandelier that dripped light like liquid gold.
Heads turned. Slowly at first, then all at once.
A giggle rippled from the left, sharp, like glass breaking.
"New charity case?" someone whispered, loud enough to carry.
Laughter spread, eyes raking my thrift jeans, my hoodie that suddenly felt too small.
I kept my chin up, feet moving toward the gold-lettered Admissions sign ahead.
A girl with diamond studs blocked half the hall, suitcase angled just to trip me.
"Lost your way to the servant's entrance?" Her friends snorted, and their phones were already out.
Heat crawled up my neck, but I sidestepped, pretending I didn't hear.
Whispers chased me like footsteps, poor girl, scholarship trash, does she even know?
I slipped into the admissions office and let the heavy door click shut behind me.
The air inside felt cooler, thicker, like the whole room was holding its breath.
A woman behind the desk glanced up, her smile stiff like it was glued on.
"Welcome," she said, voice flat as she slid a folder across the desk.
"I didn't exactly get the welcome you're giving me out there," I muttered, eyes flicking to the door.
She didn't look up from her keyboard, just tapped a key harder than necessary.
"Room 317, third floor west wing," she said, shoving a keycard and packet my way.
I flipped open the packet, scanning the schedule, Advanced Lit, Calc, a blur of classes starting tomorrow.
"Rules on page three," she added, voice all business.
"Read them. Follow them. You'll need to," she said, her eyes finally meeting mine for half a second.
I snatched the keycard, the plastic edge biting into my palm.
The door banged open behind me, and diamond-stud earrings filled the frame.
"Well, look who beat us to orientation," she drawled, her friends fanning out behind her like backup dancers.
Their glossy lips curled in unison, eyes locking on me like I was already their next joke.
The desk woman sighed, barely glancing their way.
Room 317 girls, here for keys," Diamond Studs announced, tossing her hair like she owned the place.
The desk woman sighed, already pulling two more keycards without looking up.
"Next keycards are for rooms 316 and 318," the desk woman droned, sliding them over like this was routine.
"Enjoy your new roommate, Elara," Diamond Studs purred, snatching her keycard with a wink that felt like a threat.
My stomach dropped like a stone, the keycard suddenly heavy as a sentence in my hand.
Their laughter trailed me out the door like a bad smell.
I kept my head down, duffle banging against my leg as I bolted for the stairs.
Room 317 waited at the end of a hallway that smelled like old money and lemon polish.
I pushed open the door to Room 317, bracing for silence, but voices hit me first.
"I called the window!" Diamond Studs snapped, arms crossed by the bed with the best view.
"No way, I got here first!" the other girl shot back, tossing her suitcase onto the bed by the window.
"You're delusional if you think I'm taking the closet bed," Diamond Studs hissed, yanking the suitcase off with one manicured hand.
They froze mid-yank when they finally noticed me in the doorway.
"Well, this just got interesting," Diamond Studs said, her smile sharpening like a blade.
Their eyes slid over me like oil, already rewriting the room's rules.
I dropped my duffle by the empty bed, the one shoved against the closet, naturally.
"Great," I muttered under my breath, zipping open my duffle like it held some kind of armor.
Silence stretched thin as they watched me unpack a single hoodie and worn jeans.
A snicker broke the quiet first, then full laughter spilled out like they'd been holding it back for me.
"Is that… all you brought?" Diamond Studs choked out, her voice dripping fake pity.
"Is that from the kids section?" the other girl added, pointing at my hoodie with a polished nail.
Heat burned my cheeks, but I kept folding, pretending their words bounced off like rain on glass.
"Bet you sleep with the lights on," Diamond Studs hissed, claiming the window bed with a flourish.
I shoved my duffel under the closet bed, spine rigid, their perfume choking the air—cloying and expensive, like the girls themselves.
Their nails drummed my bag, prodding louder: what's your deal, freak?
Three words I'd regret—but God, the relief as they ripped free, voice cracking: "Leave. Me. Alone."
Silence dropped like a guillotine.