The Last Seat

*Chapter 1: Transfer Day* I’m 18. Senior year. Last chance to not mess it up. That’s what I told myself walking through the wrought-iron gates of Crestwood Prep Academy at 7:30 AM. New school. New zip code. New rules. Atlanta, Georgia. Private school. $45K tuition. Everyone here looked like they were born in blazers. I just wanted 9 months. Quiet. Invisible. Diploma. Done. My mom was a history teacher here now. So “invisible” was already ruined. “First day, don’t embarrass me,” she said this morning. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m good at not being seen.” I was wrong. Crestwood smelled like money and fresh paint. Students moved in packs. Laughter echoed off the marble courtyard. I pulled my hoodie tighter and checked my schedule for the third time. Room 204. English Lit. Easy. Until someone blocked my path. “Excuse me,” I said, stepping sideways. She stepped with me. Blonde hair. Crestwood blazer tailored to fit. Phone in one hand, charity donation box in the other. Perfect smile. Perfect posture. Perfect everything. My stomach dropped. I knew that smile. From 5 years ago. Camp Evergreen. She was 13 and queen of the lake. I was 13 and the girl who cried during archery. “Ava Brooks,” she said. Not a question. A statement. I blinked. “Do I know you?” Her smile sharpened. “Bianca Cole. We were cabin mates. Summer 2021. You left early.” Right. The summer my dad got transferred. I left camp 3 days before closing. Bianca cried because I was her tent partner. “I remember,” I lied. I remembered she borrowed my flashlight and never gave it back. Bianca’s eyes swept over me. Hoodie. Old sneakers. No Crestwood crest. Her smile didn’t drop, but it changed. From warm to sharp. “Well,” she said, tucking hair behind her ear. “Welcome to Crestwood, Ava. We’re so glad you transferred senior year.” The way she said “senior year” made it sound like a disease. “Thanks,” I said. “Now if you’ll excuse me—” “Actually,” Bianca said, grabbing my arm. Light. Firm. “You should come meet Student Council. We’re doing charity gala sign-ups.” I pulled away. “I’m not really a joiner.” “Everyone joins,” Bianca said. “Especially transfers. It helps you fit in.” Her eyes said: _It helps me watch you._ I opened my mouth to say no. Then the bell rang. Courtyard. 12 round tables. White tablecloths. Student Council banner: “CRESTWOOD CHARITY GALA - $10,000 GOAL” Kids crowded around each table. Signing up. Laughing. Posing for pics. Bianca dragged me to Table 1. Center table. A gold chair sat empty. Spotlight from the string lights above hit it. “That’s the gala partner chair,” Bianca whispered, but loud enough for everyone. “Student Council VP picks his partner from there. Last seat at the table.” She sat in the chair next to it. Expecting. Everyone expected it too. Bianca + Noah Hart. Kindergarten to senior year. Power couple. Noah Hart walked in at exactly 7:45. Student Council VP badge. Blazer sleeves rolled up. Sarcastic smile. Tall. Dark hair. Looked tired like he’d been running the school since age 6. He scanned the courtyard. Eyes passed Bianca. Didn’t stop. Then landed on me. I froze. Hoodie kid in a sea of blazers. Noah walked straight to me. Bianca stood up. “Noah, you’re late. Sign me up for gala partner. Again.” Noah didn’t look at her. He looked at me. “Ava Brooks?” he asked. I nodded. Throat dry. “Yeah.” “I’m Noah Hart. Student Council VP.” He held out the gala folder. “We need a partner for the $10K charity event. You in?” Silence. The whole courtyard went quiet. Bianca laughed. Too loud. “Noah, she just transferred. She doesn’t know how we do things here.” Noah still didn’t look at her. “Then she’ll learn.” He pushed the folder into my hands. Folder said: “GALA PARTNER - AVA BROOKS” My name. On the last seat. Bianca’s smile cracked. Just for a second. “You sure?” she asked, voice sweet but eyes cold. “I’ve run gala 3 years. I know all the sponsors.” Noah finally glanced at her. “Yeah. I’m sure.” He turned back to me. “Meeting after school. Library. We plan decorations.” Then he walked away. Like he hadn’t just started a war. Bianca didn’t move for 3 seconds. Then she looked at me. Really looked. Not at camp-kid Ava anymore. At rival Ava. “You didn’t even want this,” she said softly. Too soft. “You’re right,” I said. “I don’t.” Her jaw ticked. “Then why take it?” “I didn’t take it,” I said. “He gave it to me.” That was the wrong thing to say. Bianca’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it. Group chat lit up: “DID YOU SEE WHO NOAH PICKED??” Her fingers typed fast. I didn’t need to see the screen to know what it said. She looked up. Smile back on. Perfect again. “Welcome to Crestwood, Ava. It’s going to be… interesting.” She walked away. Blazer perfect. Back straight. I stood there holding a $10,000 gala folder like it was a grenade. Noah waited by the library doors. Arms crossed. “You don’t have to do this,” he said when I reached him. “I can pick someone else. Bianca will lose her mind but—” “No,” I cut him off. “I’m here. I’ll do it.” His eyebrows went up. “Why? You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” “Because,” I said, meeting his eyes. “I’m tired of being invisible.” He studied me for a second. Then smirked. That sarcastic one from before. “Welcome to Crestwood, Brooks,” he said. “Where everyone fights for a seat at the table.” He opened the library door. “And you just took the last one.” I stepped inside. Behind me, I heard a phone camera click. Bianca was across the courtyard. Phone up. Recording. She mouthed two words: _Big mistake._ *[END OF CHAPTER 1]*