Pretty lies & popular guys

The first thing Elias Okafor learned about Blackthorne Academy was that rich people could make cruelty look elegant. The second was that everyone was watching him. He stood beneath the enormous stone archway at the school's entrance, one hand gripping the strap of his suitcase while the other held his admission letter. Above him, the academy's golden crest gleamed against the morning sun. Beyond the gates stood a magnificent building with tall windows, ivy-covered walls, and perfectly trimmed lawns. It looked like the kind of place where futures were made. Elias had a feeling it was also where they were destroyed. A black luxury car rolled past him. Two boys in immaculate uniforms sat in the back, laughing at something on a phone. Neither looked at Elias until the car slowed beside the entrance. One of them lowered the window. "New scholarship boy?" Elias glanced at his suitcase, then at the expensive car. "No. I'm the new headmaster. I'm just here to carry my own luggage." The boy's smile disappeared. His friend burst out laughing. "Careful, Adrian," he said. "He bites." Adrian Cross leaned against the window, studying Elias with cool, assessing eyes. His dark hair fell carelessly across his forehead, and his uniform looked as though it had been tailored specifically for him. A silver watch glinted on his wrist. "You should learn how things work here," Adrian said. "And you should learn how windows work. They're supposed to go up." The other boy nearly choked laughing. Adrian stared at Elias for a moment before raising the window. The car continued towards the main building. Elias exhaled. Excellent. He had been at Blackthorne for less than three minutes and had already insulted someone who probably owned more shoes than Elias had ever owned in his entire life. His mother would be proud. Probably. He checked his admission letter again, confirming the building number. His scholarship covered tuition and accommodation, but not the cost of replacing anything he lost. The suitcase beside him contained nearly everything he owned, and he had no intention of letting a school full of wealthy strangers intimidate him into making mistakes. He had worked too hard to get here. Three years ago, his older sister, Nadia, had attended Blackthorne Academy. Three years ago, she had been the brightest student in her year. Then something happened. One disciplinary hearing. One scandal. One announcement that she had violated the school's academic integrity policy. Nadia left Blackthorne before the end of the term. She never returned. Whenever Elias asked her what had happened, she gave him the same answer. "Some things are better left alone." He had hated that answer for years. Now he was standing at the gates of the very school she refused to discuss, determined to find out why. "Elias Okafor?" A woman in a navy suit approached him, holding a tablet. "Yes." "Welcome to Blackthorne. I'm Mrs. Ellis, the admissions coordinator. We were expecting you twenty minutes ago." "My apologies. The traffic—" "Never mind. Follow me, please." She led him through the gates. Students crossed the courtyard in small, fashionable groups. Their conversations flowed easily until Elias passed. Then voices dropped, eyes followed him, and whispers travelled from one group to another. He tried to ignore them. At the top of the stairs, a girl stood beside a noticeboard, arguing with a student who looked ready to cry. "You can't remove her name because her parents complained," the girl said firmly. "She earned that position." "Zara, please. The decision has already been made." "Then the decision is wrong." The girl turned, and her gaze briefly met Elias's. She had long braids, sharp eyes, and the kind of expression that suggested she could identify a lie before the person telling it finished speaking. Mrs. Ellis cleared her throat. "Miss Bennett." Zara's expression softened into professional politeness. "Mrs. Ellis." "This is Elias Okafor, our new scholarship student." Something changed in Zara's face. It was small, almost invisible, but Elias noticed it. Recognition. Not of him. Of his surname. "Okafor?" she repeated. "That's generally how it's pronounced." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You're Nadia's brother." Elias's fingers tightened around his suitcase handle. "You knew her?" "I knew of her." "That's a very careful answer." "So was your sister's last explanation to the disciplinary committee, apparently." Mrs. Ellis stiffened. "Miss Bennett, that's enough." Zara looked away first. "Welcome to Blackthorne, Elias." She walked past him before he could respond. Elias watched her disappear into the crowd. Wonderful. Apparently, his sister's reputation had arrived three years before he did. His dormitory room was on the third floor of West House. The room was larger than his bedroom at home, with two beds, two desks, built-in wardrobes, and a window overlooking the sports field. His roommate was lying across one of the beds, attempting to balance a packet of biscuits on his forehead. The packet fell. He caught it. "Yes!" he shouted, pumping his fist. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I deserve a scholarship." Elias stopped in the doorway. The boy sat up. "Oh. You're the new guy." "Elias." "Mason. Your roommate, unofficial tour guide, emergency snack provider, and the only person here who won't judge you for owning less than three watches." Elias looked at his bare wrist. "I own zero watches." Mason placed a hand over his heart. "That's devastating. We'll get you through this." For the first time that morning, Elias smiled. Mason showed him where to find the dining hall, the library, the classrooms, and the laundry room. He also explained the school's unwritten social hierarchy. "Adrian Cross and his friends are basically royalty," Mason said as they walked downstairs. "Zara Bennett runs the student council like a small government. Imani Cole knows everyone's business because she writes for the school paper. And Theo Vale is the prefect who somehow makes teachers believe he's never done anything wrong." "And you?" "I'm a mysterious figure who prefers to remain outside the political system." "You mean you're nobody." "Exactly. But I'm a nobody with excellent biscuits." They reached the dining hall. Conversation filled the enormous room. Students occupied long tables beneath hanging lights, their uniforms crisp and their laughter effortless. Mason led Elias towards an empty seat. Then a voice called from the centre table. "Look what the academy brought us." Adrian Cross sat surrounded by friends. The boy from the car was beside him, grinning. "Does the scholarship come with a free suitcase?" someone asked. A few students laughed. Elias continued walking. Adrian leaned back in his chair. "No response, Okafor? I thought you'd have something clever to say." Elias stopped. "I do." "Let's hear it." "I'm deciding whether you're worth the effort." The laughter around the table died. Mason whispered, "Mate, I respect you, but I would also like to survive the school year." Adrian rose slowly. For a moment, Elias thought he might actually approach him. Instead, Adrian smiled. "Enjoy your first day." The words sounded harmless. His expression did not. Elias turned away. He had no intention of allowing Adrian Cross to become the centre of his life. He had more important things to worry about. Like Nadia. Like the questions nobody would answer. Like the strange recognition in Zara Bennett's eyes. Then a phone chimed. Another followed. Then another. Across the dining hall, students began checking their screens. Laughter faded. Conversations stopped. A girl at the nearest table covered her mouth. Mason pulled out his phone. His smile disappeared. "What is it?" Elias asked. Mason didn't answer. He simply turned the screen towards him. An anonymous account called THE BELL had published a new post. A photograph of Nadia Okafor appeared beneath a black background. She looked younger in the picture, standing in front of Blackthorne's main building with a school certificate in her hands. The caption was short. WELCOME BACK, OKAFOR. THREE YEARS AGO, YOUR SISTER WAS BLAMED FOR A CRIME SHE DIDN'T COMMIT. ASK ADRIAN CROSS WHY. Elias read it twice. Then he looked across the dining hall. Adrian was staring at his own phone. For the first time since Elias had arrived, the school's golden boy didn't look amused. He looked afraid. Their eyes met across the crowded room. Adrian slowly stood. And Elias understood something he hadn't understood that morning. His sister's past wasn't buried. It was waiting for him. And somebody at Blackthorne had just decided to make him the next target.