Chapter 1
“Miss Harris,” the principal said with a radiant smile. Definitely a hundred percent made in Turkey. I nodded at him, almost forgetting to greet him. I placed my hand in his palm, and he gave it a slight squeeze.
His office looked exactly like the rest of the school. Very modern, unlike my previous school. Don’t take me too seriously when I say I prefer the old school (literally - haha). What I really mean is that I loved old architecture and things with character. I adored how those places embraced you with the atmosphere of the past. That’s why this building didn’t evoke any feelings in me. It was just new – soulless.
I sat down in a leather chair that looked like no one had ever sat in it before. The leather creaked when I tried to settle into it. I stared at the guy who sat down behind a laptop. He leaned back in his chair, and all I could see were his dark eyes and the apple of his laptop.
I thought back to the last time I was in a chair like this. I hoped this time wouldn’t follow the same script as always. Slowly, I was losing hope that I would finish any school. But I told myself I’d try one last time to be positive. I’d try to fit in and be more optimistic. And if it didn’t work out, I’d fall into a deep depression and switch to homeschooling. That’s my plan – very optimistic, just like me.
He told me I’d definitely miss the first class, and I sighed with relief that today would at least be a little shorter. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean it would be any easier. He laughed at this fact, and I got the feeling that he might actually be kind of friendly.
“Your former principal sent me all your records,” he said, pushing a folder with my name in front of him.
Everything was prepared and in its place. I tried to think of the last moment in my life when things were even remotely this organized. Maybe back in kindergarten?
“Our school places a lot of emphasis on results; you’ll need to try a little harder in some subjects,” he remarked as he skimmed through my grades. “You can join the literary club. Carl would certainly appreciate that,” he bared his teeth, and I froze when he mentioned my father’s name.
After several minutes of him telling me about my father – as if I didn’t know him at all – he finally stood up. He said my father absolutely had to give a lecture in the aforementioned club. It would definitely be very beneficial. And I’m sure my dad would love it. He thrives on being the center of attention – especially when it comes to his books.
He led me directly to the classroom, where he handed me off to a teacher who looked like she belonged at Hogwarts. She had comically cut glasses on her large nose, through which she looked at me strangely. Her black raven hair was freshly cut, just at the edge of her jaw, leaving room for her long neck to stand out.
“You’ve missed almost half an hour,” she said, glancing at her small watch. “Go sit down.”
Starting over was never my strong suit. I never knew what to write on the first pages of my journals, and the first episodes of TV shows never grabbed me right away. The first days at a new school weren’t any different. Even though I should be an expert at this by now.
I’m the daughter of washed-up writers who try to spark their imaginations with endless traveling. I wasn’t even sure how much they were fulfilled living in boxes. But I was sure of one thing: it didn’t fulfill me at all.
I was grateful for all the places I had explored in my life, but I would’ve traded it all for at least one real friend. While I never lacked experiences and pictures for my Instagram, my social life was a different story. Most girls my age were hitting up parties at their friends’ houses, while I was packing and unpacking, and my best friend was our cat, who was more my mom’s substitute for another child.
Funny, unexpected realization – they didn’t want kids. But my mom never stopped telling me how beautiful a mistake they made eighteen years ago. That mistake was me, in case you didn’t figure it out.
They were celebrating New Year’s on a beach in Brazil, and the night got a little out of hand. Nine months later, I was born in an old convent in Italy. I was given a second name after the midwife who sent me many gifts over the years and translated her favorite Italian poems for me. Giorgia, her name was. Aurora Giorgia Harris. My mom chose the name Aurora after I saw the light of day in the morning twilight.
My mom has always been obsessed with names. Maybe it’s because she wrote books that were more fantastical than anything else. Our cat was named Katy Purry – my mom’s favorite singer is Katy Perry. But then the vet found out our Katy was actually a boy, and so he was left with just Purry.
Anyway, Purry filled the void of my mom’s unfulfilled dreams. She stepped aside for my dad’s career and chose to live in his shadow, even though, in my opinion, I liked her books much more – just don’t tell him that.
I wouldn’t say he was a significant enough writer to be taught in schools, but there were a few older generations who collected his books. More than once, I had collected autographs for my new teachers, who were full of expectations.
Like father, like daughter. I had excelled in writing compositions since the first grade, but I never admitted to my parents that my drawers were full of my stories. Well, those virtual drawers, because with all this moving, I probably wouldn’t have anything left.
It was also my dad’s secret wish that I would write too. It’s one of the reasons why it’s my little big secret. I wanted to have something just for myself, something where no one could judge me. A safe place for my thoughts that seemed better left unspoken out loud, so I collected them on empty pages.
But if I’m going to get back to those beginnings, this was number… I don’t even remember. I’d say my fifth school. But it was a first in terms of private schools. I was told they wanted the best for me, but when I overheard one of their conversations, I concluded that it was mostly so they could let me graduate, even if I had to leave school for some strange reason. PS: that strange reason is moving.
But they also promised that this would be the last move for a while. They wanted me to finish school, and then I could choose where to go for university. It both excited and terrified me at the same time.
After all, every time there was some drama, I always knew I’d move again in the next few months, and I wouldn’t have to live under the shadow of bullying. Not that anything like that was really happening. I was, after all, the outcast, “the weird one” who kept moving around, but that was the worst I’d ever heard about myself.
I sighed with relief that I didn’t have to introduce myself and sat down in the free seat. I sank into the chair and hoped I would be invisible during the next hour.
It was an algebra class, and, as usual, I was lost.
And I didn’t just get lost in numbers, but in the huge school complex that felt like a labyrinth.
When I was gathering my things from my locker, absorbed in searching for the textbook for the next class, someone bumped into me so suddenly that everything slipped from my hands. I held myself together, but I felt like I was about to collapse in a few minutes.
“I’m so sorry,” shouted a girl, who was about my height. Her dark skin contrasted with her colorful, braided hair. They swayed and rolled on the floor as she helped me gather all the papers.
There was the sound of footsteps. I looked up and saw a dark-haired guy running toward us. He was laughing loudly, and I immediately realized these two belonged together, and it wasn’t just some crazy person enjoying being at school.
“You’re causing trouble again, Loren,” he laughed and handed her the last piece of paper that had fallen to the floor.
We all stood up and faced each other. I thanked them and kept staring at them when it hit me that they were still standing by me. Loren hit him on the head with the papers, and he grinned at her.
“You know full well it’s your fault,” she shrugged and put my book and papers into the locker as if they were hers. Then she gave me a thoughtful look. “You’re the new girl, right?”
Finally, nostalgia hit me. I had always been “the new girl,” and I knew I wouldn’t avoid it here either. I just hoped this time I would make at least some friends and survive my last year of high school like in an American movie, not at home with the cat.
“Aurora,” I extended my hand to her. She pulled me into a quick hug.
“I’m Loren, like Jaxon probably already told you,” she said and squeezed me. It almost took my breath away; I wasn’t used to people being so… huggy.
When she let go, Jaxon reached out to me, and I slapped his hand. They signaled that they were heading to chemistry class, and I had literature or something else. Anyway – the direction was the same. They offered to show me where our classrooms were. I was excited at the prospect that maybe for once I’d make it to class on time.
“So, have you met anyone else here?” Loren asked.
“Besides the principal, his assistant, and the teacher from Hogwarts?” I said with a questioning tone, then shook my head.
Jaxon burst out laughing and slapped me on the back. “Yeah, algebra is my favorite,” he said sarcastically.
“So that means we’re your first friends!” she cheered. “Which means you literally can’t refuse to sit with us at lunch.”
“Literally,” Jax added, and I couldn’t help but smile.
While Loren seemed just like her hair—wild and chaotic—Jaxon had this undeniable charisma. His green eyes were full of emotions. From the way he spoke, I would have guessed he was in the drama club.
He wore a black T-shirt that didn’t hug his body at all and loose jeans. He was skinny and only slightly taller than me. But I have to say, at nearly 180 cm, I’m quite tall for a girl.
Loren was a bit shorter, and her figure was completely different from mine. She had an hourglass shape, while I was more of a rectangle from the front.
She had a strict expression that remained even when she laughed. Maybe it was the false lashes that, despite being obviously fake, still looked pretty natural. One of her braids was wrapped around her hoop earrings, which made me slightly nervous.
I was smiling the entire literature class, which, judging by the teacher’s looks, probably made it seem like I was in love with Hemingway. But really, I was just relieved that I wouldn’t have to sit alone at lunch. I wouldn’t have to search for an open seat or eat in the bathroom—which, thankfully, had never happened to me.
I had felt like I’d been in this kind of situation before, but today, it seemed like it could be different. And I was really trying not to be too naive about it.
After two hours of exhausting lectures, I set out to find the cafeteria. I picked up my lunch, which looked fairly decent.
“Hey, new girl,” I heard from behind me.
I let out a relieved sigh when I saw Jax and Loren. I could physically feel the weight lift off my shoulders, and without realizing it, I relaxed into a natural stance.
They led me through the school courtyard, where we didn’t sit down, which surprised me. For a moment, I was nervous about where we were going, but Jaxon assured me that they sat at the VIP table and that, for now, I had a temporary pass.
After a short walk, I spotted a table with benches, sitting alone on a grassy field that stretched all the way to the football stadium nearby. No one else was around, so I set my things down on the bench. I just hoped I hadn’t wandered into some Mean Girls-type clique that would yell at me for not wearing pink on Wednesdays—because I never wear pink.
We sat down, and I glanced again at the food on my plate. It was the same as Jaxon’s. Only Loren pulled out a lunchbox from her bag, filled with salad. She smiled when she saw the little note inside and tossed it back into her backpack.
“Can you believe it? Her mom still packs her lunches for school,” Jax laughed when he saw me eyeing her lunchbox. Busted. My cheeks flushed slightly.
“That’s because my mom is the best,” she smiled at me. “And also, she’s on maternity leave, so she has time to make them.”
“You have a younger sibling?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.
“If only one,” she scoffed. “My mom had one amazing, talented child and then decided she wanted to be a full-time mom. There are five of us.”
Wow. I imagined what our house would look like if five kids were running around. My dad would probably be living in a psych ward, and my mom would be drinking a whole bottle of wine for breakfast instead of a glass at dinner.
I had always wanted siblings. I knew I wouldn’t feel so alone in unfamiliar places. But in the end, I was glad I only had to heal my own wounds and not those of little versions of me.
“What about you?” Jaxon asked, biting into his meat. Just from his first chew, I could tell it was as tough as rubber. My appetite immediately disappeared, and I set my fork down next to my plate.
“I’m an only child,” I said, somewhat disappointed. “My parents didn’t have the time or patience, I suppose.”
“Are your parents famous or something?” Jaxon asked right away, earning a smack on the arm from Loren. “What? She’s our future best friend. I wanna know if she’s gonna invite us to her mansion with a pool or not.”
I laughed, genuinely. “Famous, I guess, depending on how you look at it. If you’re over fifty, maybe,” I said honestly. “And unfortunately, no pool or mansion.”
“So that means you can just pack your stuff and—”
My gaze shifted to a group of guys walking from the direction of the stadium. For a moment, it felt like I was dreaming. I could feel my jaw drop slightly, and my lips parted.
There were several of them, but my eyes were glued to the blonde guy in the front.
The moment our eyes met, a tingling sensation spread through my stomach, and I could feel my cheeks start to heat up. There was no way he didn’t notice me—he held eye contact for far too long. He was scanning my face like he was seeing me for the first time—which, technically, he was, but you know what I mean. I could see the smirk on his lips, even from a distance.
That small, innocent smirk slowly stretched into a full grin, and his white teeth gleamed from afar. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and wiped his face with it, drying off the water dripping from his damp hair. I assumed they had just come from the showers after practice. And no, not because I could smell their body washes, but because the sheer scent of testosterone nearly knocked me off the bench. When his shirt lifted slightly, giving me a glimpse of his toned abs, only one thought ran through my mind—this guy looks like a god.
I turned back to the other two. Jaxon was scanning each of them, just like I had, but Loren was staring at me. “Well, now we have a problem,” she said, clasping her hands together and resting her chin on them.
My eyes flicked to her. “Problem?”
“Dixon—middle name: trouble—captain of the football team,” she clarified, and it immediately clicked that she was talking about the blonde guy. “A taken trouble.”
