The first sound I hear is rain.
Soft, steady, tapping against the window like a heartbeat.
For a moment, I don't remember where I am. The room smells faintly of lavender and laundry detergent. My suitcase is half-unpacked on the floor, and Hailey's side of the room glows faintly with the string lights she forgot to turn off last night.
Westlake. Ridgeview Academy.
Right.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. It's painted white, but in the dim morning light it looks gray — like everything else here.
Hailey stirs on the other side of the room. "You're up early," she mutters, voice still rough from sleep.
"I couldn't really sleep," I admit.
"Yeah," she says, pulling the blanket tighter around her. "It's louder here than it looks."
I almost ask what she means, but she's already out of bed, sliding into her uniform with practiced movements. Her hair falls perfectly into place, like she woke up that way. I make a mental note not to stand too close to her until I figure out how to look even half as put together.
We get ready in silence — her efficient, me clumsy. When I finally manage to tuck my shirt in and lace my shoes, she glances over.
"Breakfast starts at seven," she says, grabbing her bag. "If you want to survive your first day, don't be late."
There's no malice in her tone, just quiet warning. Then she's out the door, leaving the faint scent of perfume behind her.
I take a breath and follow.
⸻
The hallway hums with morning energy — lockers slamming, voices echoing, footsteps sharp against the floor. Everything here feels polished and rehearsed. Even the chaos looks intentional.
The dining hall is massive — chandeliers, long wooden tables, tall windows overlooking the courtyard. I stand near the entrance for a second, clutching my tray like it's armor.
Students fill every space. Laughter, whispers, the scrape of metal on porcelain. The smell of coffee and fresh bread fills the air, but it doesn't feel warm. It feels… choreographed.
Hailey sits with two other girls. When she notices me, she gestures lazily to the empty seat across from her. I take it, grateful for the unspoken invitation.
"This is Kara," Hailey says, nodding to a red-haired girl with sharp eyes. "And that's Madison."
They both look me over. Not cruelly — just assessing.
"New girl?" Kara asks, stirring her tea.
"Yeah," I say. "Yvonne."
"Transfer?" Madison's tone is casual, but her eyes are curious.
I nod. "Something like that."
Hailey rolls her eyes. "She's not an alien, guys. Let her eat."
The girls laugh lightly, and the tension eases a little. I try to eat without drawing attention to myself, but I can feel it anyway — the stares, the subtle turns of heads in my direction.
It's not just curiosity. It's calculation.
Everyone here seems to be watching everyone else, measuring where they fit.
A sudden hush falls over the room.
It's small at first — the kind of silence that ripples outward, like a dropped pebble in still water. Conversations fade. Forks stop clinking.
Then I see them.
Logan, Cameron, and Asher enter through the side doors, moving through the hall like shadows cutting through light.
The air changes. Students straighten in their seats. A few girls whisper, eyes following them.
They sit near the center table — the one with the best view of the room. No one joins them unless invited.
I try not to look, but it's hard not to notice the quiet authority in the way Logan moves. He doesn't speak much, but the room seems to listen anyway.
Kara leans closer to me, her voice low. "The Ravens," she whispers.
I glance at her. "The what?"
"That's what people call them," she says. "Logan, Cameron, and Asher. Don't ask me why. It's just… a thing."
Madison smirks. "They basically run Ridgeview. The teachers pretend they don't, but everyone knows better."
I frown. "Run it how?"
Hailey's gaze lifts from her plate. "You'll see."
⸻
My first class is Literature, on the second floor of the east wing. The room smells like chalk and rain — windows cracked open just enough to let in the sound of dripping water.
Students file in quietly. I take a seat near the back, next to a girl who keeps her head down and her notebook neat.
When the teacher arrives, she doesn't waste time with introductions. "Welcome back," she says briskly, writing her name — Ms. Rowe — on the board. "We're beginning with Gothic literature this term. Dread, mystery, obsession — all the good things."
A few students chuckle softly.
As she lectures about symbolism and unreliable narrators, my eyes drift toward the window. The campus outside looks peaceful, but there's something about it — the stillness, the fog curling through the trees — that makes it hard to breathe sometimes.
Halfway through class, the door opens.
Logan steps in.
He's late, but Ms. Rowe doesn't say a word. She just nods, and he walks to the back, sliding into a seat two rows behind me. The air feels different again — quieter, denser.
I keep my eyes on my notes, but I can feel it — that subtle awareness that someone's presence shifts the whole room.
When class ends, students rush out quickly, eager to beat the next bell. I'm stuffing my notebook into my bag when a quiet voice speaks behind me.
"You're the new transfer."
I turn. It's Asher — dark eyes, calm expression.
"Yeah," I say cautiously.
He nods once, like that's all he wanted to confirm, then walks off.
I watch him disappear down the hall, unsure whether that was a greeting or a warning.
⸻
Lunch is louder, busier. I sit with Hailey again, this time surrounded by more people. The conversations are fragmented — parties, grades, gossip.
Somewhere in the noise, I start piecing things together. The school has an unspoken structure — a pecking order no one acknowledges out loud. The Ravens at the top. The rest arranged beneath them like constellations orbiting a dark star.
Even teachers seem cautious, careful with their words when one of them is nearby.
"Do they ever get in trouble?" I ask Hailey quietly.
She shakes her head. "Not the kind that sticks."
There's something heavy in her tone, something that makes me wonder if she's seen more than she's saying.
The bell rings before I can ask.
⸻
By the end of the day, my head aches from trying to memorize hallways and names. The clouds outside darken again, rain misting the windows.
Back in the dorm, Hailey's sprawled across her bed, scrolling through her phone.
"How was it?" she asks without looking up.
"Strange," I admit. "Everyone acts like there's some kind of… rulebook I haven't read yet."
She smiles faintly. "There is. You just have to figure it out before you break it."
I sink onto my bed, staring at the rain-streaked window. The light outside is fading, and the woods beyond the campus sway with shadows.
For the first time all day, it's quiet. But it's not peaceful. It's expectant.
Like Ridgeview is waiting for something.
Or maybe for me.