Becoming Dawn

The First Spark

Adrian’s POV

The thing about Veridian Academy is that people think it’s flawless, perfect lawns, perfect halls, perfect kids. But I’ve been here long enough to know that under all that marble and polish, cracks run deep. They’re just harder to see when everyone’s too busy pretending.

That’s probably why I noticed her.

The new girl.

She wasn’t hard to spot–how could she be? She didn’t glide out of a glossy black town car or laugh with a practiced tilt of her head like everyone else here. No, she stepped off the bus, clutching her bag like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her shoes were scuffed, her skirt looked like it had already lived another life, and she carried herself like she knew she didn’t belong.

Except–she did.

I caught her name during roll call: Dawn Miller.

I had heard of her, actually. Veridian doesn’t hand out scholarships easily, but when they do, it’s always to someone ridiculously smart. Top scores in the state, some teacher bragged last year. I hadn’t expected the girl behind the name to look like… well, like Dawn. She wasn’t the polished, manicured type this place spits out. She looked real. Too real for Veridian.

And of course, Vanessa pounced on that.

Vanessa Kingsley has been holding court in this place since freshman year. I’ve lost count of how many people she’s chewed up and spit out, their reputations in tatters because they happened to be in her way. Most people let her–better her teeth in someone else’s throat than yours. She’s not stupid about it either; she knows when to whisper, when to smile, when to strike. Teachers love her because she’s top of her class. Parents love her because she’s on every committee. Her friends love her because… well, fear is a kind of love, isn’t it?

The second she saw Dawn, I knew she was already planning. I could see it in the way her eyes lit up, sharp and gleaming. Vanessa loves easy prey.

And Dawn… well, she walked into that classroom wearing a bullseye on her back.

It happened so fast I almost missed it. Vanessa leaned forward, her smile all teeth. “Didn’t know Veridian was taking… charity cases now,”

The room laughed. Not everyone, but enough. The kind of laughter that sticks, that tells you you’re already branded.

I should’ve stayed quiet. I usually do. It’s easier that way–keep your head down, play your role, let the Kingsleys of the world chew up someone else. That’s the game here. And I’m good at playing it.

But then I looked at Dawn.

Her hand had tightened around her bag strap until her knuckles turned white. Her face burned red, but she kept her eyes down, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. And in that moment, I didn’t see Dawn Miller. I saw my little sister.

Emily.

She used to look like that in middle school–shrinking, folding into herself, trying to disappear when the other kids cornered her. She would come home quiet, shoulders hunched, claiming she was “fine.” But one day, I caught the edge of a note crumpled in her backpack.

Fat cow, scrawled across it in thick red marker.

I remembered the way my chest had tightened then, how helpless I felt watching her crumble. And I remembered what I promised her after I tracked down the kid who wrote it:

“No one gets to make you feel small. Not while I’m here.”

So when Vanessa made her little joke and the room laughed, I heard that same red-marker cruelty. And I couldn’t stay quiet.

“Knock it off, Vanessa.”

The words left my mouth before I even thought them through.

The silence that followed was heavy, like the whole class had stopped breathing.

Every pair of eyes shifted between me, Vanessa, and Dawn. For once, Vanessa’s smirk faltered, and I almost wanted to laugh at how rare that was. She recovered quickly, of course–she always does, but I caught the c***k in her mask before she hid it.

“Relax, Adrian. It’s just a joke.”

A joke. Sure. The kind that cuts until someone bleeds.

I leaned back in my chair, pretending it hadn’t meant anything, like I hadn’t just declared myself Dawn’s accidental bodyguard. The teacher came in, books opened, pens scratched, and the moment passed. Everyone moved on. But I didn’t.

Because while the rest of the class forgot, I kept noticing Dawn.

The way her pen tapped nervously against her notebook, faster every time someone whispered nearby. The way she kept her head bowed low, shoulders hunched as if she could fold herself into nothing. And the way she never once looked at me, not even a flicker. If anything, she seemed to shrink even more after I spoke up, like my defense had painted a bigger target on her back instead of protecting her.

Maybe she’s right.

Because if there’s one thing I know about Vanessa Kingsley, it’s that she doesn’t forget. She’ll already be planning, turning the moment over in her head, figuring out how to make Dawn regret setting foot in this school. And because I stepped in, Dawn’s name will stick on people’s tongues even longer.

Part of me wondered if I should’ve stayed quiet, if I should’ve just let it slide like everyone else does. But the thought of Emily’s crumpled note wouldn’t leave me.

So no—I don’t regret it.

I just don’t know what it means yet.

When the bell rang and everyone filtered out in their shiny little groups, I hung back. I wanted to say something to her, anything; “Don’t let her get to you.” “She’s not worth it.” Even just, “Hey.” Something simple to remind her she wasn’t invisible.

But Dawn moved fast, slipping through the door like she was desperate to escape. By the time I reached the hallway, she was gone– swallowed by the crowd of blazers and polished shoes.

I stood there for a moment, feeling stupid. Maybe I had already made it worse. Maybe she hated that I had spoken up, that I had drawn attention to her when all she wanted was to blend in.

Still, something told me this wasn’t the last time I would see her.

Not because she’s the scholarship girl. Not because Vanessa won’t leave her alone.

But because, for the first time in a long time, someone walked into Veridian Academy who wasn’t pretending to be perfect. And I couldn’t stop noticing.