Rivals and Roses

Chapter 2 — Welcome to Lockwood

By 8:15 a.m., Lockwood Academy looked like a fashion runway disguised as a school.

Luxury cars lined the front drive, engines humming like they were part of some synchronized orchestra. A few private drivers stood around, holding umbrellas for kids who clearly hadn’t touched an alarm clock in their entire lives. I stepped out of Dad’s black sedan, straightened my uniform, and stared at the gothic arches ahead of me.

Welcome to Lockwood Academy. The land of the rich, the restless, and the ridiculously dramatic.

The first thing I learned about this place was that no one actually came here to learn. You came to show—your grades, your wealth, your lineage, your imported sneakers. Even the pigeons around the gate strutted like they had trust funds.

“Ethan Hale,” someone called behind me.

I turned to see Lila Marsh, all red curls and confidence, walking up the steps with a coffee cup in hand. Her blazer was already open like she owned the place.

“Morning to you too,” I said. “Still breaking dress code before the term even starts?”

She smirked. “Rules are for people who can’t afford to bend them. Where’s Madison?”

“Already inside. Probably bribing someone for seat placement.”

As if on cue, Madison appeared at the door, waving. “Guys! Over here! You’re late. First assembly of the term. New students are already seated.”

We hurried in. The Lockwood assembly hall looked like a cathedral had a baby with a tech company—tall stained-glass windows mixed with floating holo-screens that displayed student rankings, achievements, and last term’s top contributors. Yes, we actually had a leaderboard.

“Is this a school or a stock exchange?” I muttered.

Lila grinned. “Relax. Just smile and wave when the cameras catch you. You look too serious.”

I rolled my eyes but sat down next to her. The principal, Mr. Valen, stood on stage—tall, bald, and serious, like a man who wished he ran a military academy instead.

“Welcome back, Lockwood students,” he started. “This year, we expect excellence, discipline, and innovation—”

Half the room was already on their phones.

I zoned out halfway through his speech, scanning the hall. Same old faces. Same old hierarchy. You could always tell the billionaires’ kids by the way they sat—casual but careful, like they knew eyes were always watching.

That’s when I noticed the whisper chain starting a few rows ahead. The girls near the front turned around, whispering and giggling.

“Is she really here?”

“I heard she transferred from Roseland.”

“Her dad’s one of those Rossis.”

I didn’t even need to ask who. Everyone in Lockwood had heard the name Ava Rossi at least once. Her family’s reputation floated through every elite circle like perfume. Money. Power. Influence. The usual combination that made people curious and terrified at the same time.

Lila leaned toward me. “She’s in our year.”

“Good for her,” I said.

“You sound jealous.”

“I sound tired.”

Truth was, I didn’t care much for the gossip. I’d had enough of “names that matter.” When your own dad was a billionaire who thought humility was a superpower, you learned to keep your head down.

Assembly ended, and we filed out into the hallway. Lockwood’s corridors gleamed with glass and light—trophies in every corner, designer lockers, and tech boards showing schedules.

Madison looped his arm around my shoulder. “Bro, it’s survival season again.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, “Dad’s mantra.”

“Your dad actually said that?” Lila asked, walking beside us.

“Word for word. ‘Just survive school, Ethan.’ Like it’s some kind of jungle.”

Madison chuckled. “He’s not wrong. Last year, a guy literally cried because his driver got stuck in traffic, and he missed breakfast.”

We passed the cafeteria—spacious, loud, and already buzzing with drama. The smell of espresso and pancakes hung in the air.

“Same seats as usual?” Lila asked.

“Yeah. By the window,” I said.

We sat. Madison began scrolling through the student gossip page. “Oh look, new term, same nonsense. They already made a post about who’s dating who, and—oh—‘Top five richest families enrolled this year.’ Guess who’s number three?”

I groaned. “Don’t tell me.”

“Yep. The Hales.”

I buried my face in my hands. “Please delete me from the internet.”

“You should be flattered,” Lila teased. “At least you’re not number one.”

“Who’s number one?”

Madison turned his phone to show me. “The Rossis.”

Figures.

“Don’t worry,” Lila said, sipping her juice. “At least your drama’s boring. Hers will be national news.”

I snorted. “Yeah, let’s hope we never have to meet.”

Madison grinned. “You will. Everyone meets everyone here. Lockwood’s small. Rich people love pretending it’s not.”

Before I could respond, a loud cheer erupted near the entrance. Students turned, whispering. Even without looking, I knew who just walked in.

I didn’t turn to see her face. Not yet. I just leaned back, watching Lila’s reaction instead.

“Yup,” she said, eyebrows raised. “That’s her.”

I just sighed. “And there goes my peace.”