🌹 Welcome to Rose Hill High

--- Hi. My name is Rhea Daniel, and this is not the life I asked for. Right now, I’m staring out of a car window watching rain trace lines across the glass like it’s sketching the shape of my mood. Grey. Uncertain. Heavy. We’ve just landed in this new country—cleaner streets, taller buildings, people I don’t know and don’t want to. My parents are in the front seats, fighting in whispers, like I’m too stupid to hear them. “Always your decision,” my dad mutters, gripping the steering wheel like it’s holding his life together. “And you never had any suggestions. Just silence. Like always,” my mom snaps back. I roll my eyes and turn away, my headphones dead because of course I forgot to charge them. My little sister, Leila, is curled up beside me, asleep with her thumb brushing her lips. She’s the only human in this world I still trust. She’s nine, and even with the screaming matches, the moving trucks, and the long flights, she’s still trying to believe we’re okay. I guess I’m trying too. We came here to start over. That’s what Mom keeps saying. But you can’t start over when the old stuff is still bleeding underneath. This car is silent in all the wrong ways. It’s not peace—it’s a storm waiting to break. And tomorrow… I start school. Rosehill High. Apparently, it’s “prestigious.” I googled it. The place looks like a private university swallowed by rich kids and model-like monsters with trust funds. Great. "Just... try to fit in, okay?" my mom says suddenly, breaking the silence. She's looking back at me through the rearview mirror, her mascara slightly smudged from crying earlier. I force a smile. “Sure. I’ll totally pretend I belong in a high school that smells like old money and Prada.” Dad sighs but doesn't argue. That’s his thing. Avoiding everything. We pull into a new neighborhood—too clean, too perfect, the kind where lawns are manicured and secrets are buried under rose bushes. I don’t say anything as we drive into the estate. Just hold onto Leila’s hand and pray tomorrow doesn’t break me. --- The next morning is colder than I expected. My alarm buzzes at 6:00 a.m. and for a second I forget where I am. The room’s not mine. The sheets aren’t mine. Nothing smells like home. After a quick shower and half-hearted breakfast, I’m standing outside our front gate waiting for a cab. My dad was supposed to drive me, but apparently, he “had a call.” Whatever. I’m used to being everyone’s afterthought. The cab pulls up. I open the door and slide in—and that’s when I realize the driver already has a passenger. She looks up from her phone, blinks, and smiles. “Oh! You must be new. I’m Janelle.” She’s got warm brown skin, soft natural curls pinned back with gold clips, and a confidence that drips off her like perfume. She's wearing the Rosehill High uniform, but she’s personalized it—rolled sleeves, chunky earrings, and sneakers that scream personality. “Rhea,” I say, awkwardly adjusting my bag. “Cute name. I’m guessing you’re headed to Rosehill?” “Yeah. First day.” “Oof. Brace yourself. It’s not terrible—unless you get in the way of the plastics.” “The what?” I blink. She leans in, whispering like she’s delivering national secrets. “The rich girls. You’ll know them when you see them. Especially Nylah.” Right on cue, I feel my stomach twist. --- The school is… wow. Rosehill High looks like a movie set. Marble floors, glass windows, fountains, and flowerbeds perfectly trimmed. Everyone looks like they came out of a fashion magazine. And not a single student is wearing the exact same uniform. There’s always something—a designer bag, bold makeup, some kind of watch worth more than our old apartment. Janelle walks beside me, chatting like we’ve been friends for months. I appreciate it. She points out classrooms, teachers to avoid, and where to get snacks without getting overcharged. Then, as we turn a corner, she stops short. “Oh boy. The wolves are out.” I follow her gaze. Across the courtyard are five boys, leaning against a sleek black car like they own the school. Maybe they do. Every girl walking by pretends not to look, but their eyes are clearly glued. At the center of them is Kairo—I can tell, even before Janelle says his name. He’s the tallest, sharp jawline, slightly messy jet-black hair, and eyes that look like they’ve seen too much. He’s wearing the uniform like it’s an afterthought, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up, and a chain glinting at his throat. “That’s Kairo Amari,” Janelle mutters. “Hot. Rich. Heartbreaker. He’s also my brother, unfortunately.” My eyebrows raise. “Seriously?” “Yep. Unfortunately, we share DNA. Don’t let his face fool you—he’s a walking headache.” The rest of the group looks like a K-pop group and a gang collided. There’s Jace—the flirt. Blonde, charming, always winking at someone. Leo—quiet, bookish, but with this lowkey menace to him. Ruben—the gym rat, muscles for days, flirty but loyal. And Zayn—sarcastic, fashion-obsessed, always recording something for his followers. They’re intimidating. Every student seems to move out of their way like the hallway parts for them. They don't talk loud—but everyone listens when they do. As we walk past, Kairo’s gaze flicks to me. Briefly. Intense. He studies me like I’m a question he doesn’t know the answer to. I look away fast, but my chest is doing stupid things. “Don’t fall for him,” Janelle warns. “Seriously. He’s been expelled before. Twice. Dad bought the school building so he could come back.” I blink. “He what?” “Money talks, babe.” --- We’re almost at my locker when someone bumps into me hard. I stumble, nearly dropping my books. A perfectly manicured hand reaches to steady me—but not out of kindness. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t see you there.” That voice is honey-dipped venom. I look up into the face of Nylah Rhodes. The queen bee. Her long straightened hair falls past her waist, dyed ombre rose gold. Her skin glows, her uniform fits like it was tailored for her, and her lips are curled into a smirk that screams trouble. “New girl,” she says, eyes scanning me like I’m a secondhand bag at a designer store. “Cute... in a charity-case way.” I freeze. My first day and I’ve already made contact with the queen of the social throne. Just great. Before I can respond, Janelle steps forward. “Move along, Nylah. You’re blocking the hallway with your ego.” Nylah’s smile doesn’t budge. “And you’re still dragging around strays, I see.” I say nothing. I’ve learned the hard way that sometimes silence cuts deeper than words. But inside, something clicks. I don’t care how pretty or rich you are. You don’t get to step on me. --- The rest of the day is a blur of introductions, stares, and whispers. People already know my name by lunch. Some pronounce it wrong. Some pretend they care. And a few? Just watch. I sit with Janelle and meet her second best friend, Tasha—a fierce, outspoken girl with tight curls and fire-red lip gloss. She’s short, curvy, and loud in the best way. She sizes me up with a look, then nods. “You’re cool. You can sit with us.” I smile, maybe for the first time today. But across the cafeteria, I can feel Kairo’s eyes on me again. And Nylah’s smirk hasn’t disappeared. Whatever this school is... it’s not normal. And I have a feeling this new life? It’s going to be anything but boring.