Chapter 1
The morning air is calm and quiet, as if undecided whether to be peaceful or heavy. I sit in the passenger seat while mom sips her coffee beside me, her other hand still on the wheel. Our new street is lined with neutral houses and careful lawns, trees arching over the road like they’re trying to keep secrets. It’s quiet here. A little too quiet.
I glance at the houses. Beige. Gray. White. Each one is almost identical, like someone copied and pasted them into place. Nothing messy. Nothing out of order. It looks like a fresh start. But looks can lie.
That’s the thing about moving: people only see the outside. They don’t know what you had to leave behind.
The first day at a new school always plays out the same: the stares, the whispers, and the question everyone asks silently but never out loud—Why does she look like that?
It’s been a few weeks since we moved. The neighborhood is nice—tall trees arching over the street like a protective canopy. My mom calls it a fresh start: better job, better pay, and better benefits. But really, this wasn’t just for her. It was for me. For the mess I left behind.
A past I can’t talk about—not even to my mom.
We pull up to Westchester High School just as the bell for first period rings. Students pour through the doors, their movements practiced, like they know where they belong. I stare at the four-story brick building. I might spend the next two years here. Or I might not. It depends.
My heart pounds like it wants out. My stomach flips. My grip tightens around the strap of my bag. I’ve never been this nervous walking into school—not even close. I check the visor mirror—simple makeup, high bun, black eyeliner. I close my eyes, purse my lips, and whisper a quiet prayer to calm my nerves. I wish I were still in bed, not standing at the front door of a brand-new school where anything could happen. I hope that it’s better than where I came from.
Mom squeezes my shoulders. “Are you ready for your first day?”
I nod. “Yeah. It’s just school. Same subjects, different people.”
“You got this, Sam! Have a great day!”
I step out and wave as she drives away. Her car disappears down the street. The knot in my stomach tightens. I’m alone now. Again.
Inside, it’s chaos. Students weave through each other like it’s a racetrack. I check my schedule—first period English, Room 113. Then AP History.
The school feels bigger inside than it looked outside. A maze of lockers, bulletin boards, and motivational posters screaming things like Be Kind! and Make Every Day Count. I pass the main office, the nurse’s station, a trophy case full of people I don’t know.
When I reach Room 113, a tall woman stands at the door. She’s striking—brown-hazel eyes, auburn hair, navy-blue suit perfectly pressed. Everything about her says: authority.
“Good morning,” she says. “Need help finding your class?”
“No, this is mine.”
“You must be new.” Her voice is calm, firm.
“Yes. I’m Samantha de la Rosa.”
She flips through a folder. “Ah, here you are-- our new transfer student.” A small smile. “Welcome to Westchester High. You can take a seat by the window, next to Mr. Santos. I’m Ms. Forbes. I’ll go over class materials and expectations with you after .”
I nod and slide into the seat beside a guy who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. Dark hair tied back, eyes on the desk. Doesn’t matter. People like him never do.
Lunchtime. The cafeteria is loud-- trays clattering, conversations overlapping, the smell of fries and disinfectant in the air. I scan the room for an open spot.
“Who’s that?” A blonde girl whispers to her friend.
“No clue.”
“Wait, I saw her in English. Sits next to Xavier.”
“Xavier?” The blonde’s eyes narrow. “Does Myra know?”
So that’s his name, Xavier.
I look away and head for an empty seat when a voice cuts through the noise.
“You can sit with me if you want.”
I glance over. A girl with retro glasses and a white blouse sits hunched over a notebook, her pencil moving fast—calculus, from the looks of it.
I hesitate, then sit.
“I’m Priscilla,” she says without looking up. “You’re new, right?”
“Yeah, Samantha.”
She looks up and adjusts her glasses. “Nice to meet you. Welcome to Westchester—where the hallways are a maze, the food’s questionable, and the drama never quits.”
We talk as we eat. Turns out she lives up the block from me. Doesn’t have many friends. Loves old books. She gives me the rundown—cliques, teachers, the formals, and spirit week. My old school didn’t have those—just rules and survival.
By the final bell, I couldn’t be more ready to leave. My mom waits out front.
“How was your first day?” she asks.
“It was fine.” I toss my bag into the backseat.
“Did you meet anyone? Make a new friend?”
“I met one girl. She seems nice.”
“That’s great! You should invite her over one day.”
“Mom, seriously? We just moved here.”
“I can’t help it—I’m excited. You’re adjusting, meeting people. You’ll have friends in no time.”
“Yeah, sure, Mom.” I turn on the radio. Music fills the silence as we drive. I know she means well. She’s always been there—through the transfer, the move, everything. It’s always just been me and her. I never knew my dad, and I never asked. I know she worries. But I don’t want her to.
At home, I head to my room and drop onto the bed: bare walls, unpacked boxes—a suitcase in the corner. The space feels hollow. Waiting for me to claim it. Maybe I’ll hang some lights. Maybe photos. Anything that doesn’t remind me of Worlds High.
I don’t know what this new chapter will bring, but for the first time in a long time...
I let myself hope it might be something better. Or at least, not worse.
