They all looked the same.
Pressed uniforms. Shiny hair. Forced laughs. The kind of place where even the lockers smelled of generational wealth and lavender disinfectant. Zuri had walked through a lot of doors in her life, but none that screamed you don't belong here louder than Saint Celeste High.
She adjusted the pack on her shoulder and ignored the looks. They didn't bother her. Not really. She was used to being the new girl, used to whispers, side-eyes, and fake smiles.
But this time it was not the same.
This time she was not just the new girl. She was the wrong kind of girl.
But she held her head high as she walked to the main office, grabbed her schedule, and navigated the school like she owned it.
In spite of the fact that her sneakers squeaked on the polished floors. In spite of the fact that her hoodie felt an act of defiance in a sea of blazers and loafers.
She did not falter. Not even when she caught her eye Aria Dalton's in the hallway.
Zuri had heard the name before she'd even stepped into her first class. People said it in hushed tones, as though it was supposed to be in italics. Aria Dalton, Queen of Saint Celeste. Perfect grades, perfect clothes, perfect posture. Zuri had known girls like her before. Usually on teen drama TV with mood lighting and way too much lip gloss.
But this Aria? She had the real deal: control.
The instant their eyes locked, Zuri knew it a silent dare.
But what took her by surprise?
Aria looked away first.
Fifth period was a zoo.
Zuri hadn't intended to defy the teacher, but seriously chewing gum wasn't a felony. She didn't get these people. They all treated rules like scripture, like flexing them even an inch would make the school implode.
Then there was lunch.
She loathed lunch.
Not because of a shortage of people to sit with. She was used to that. What she hated was the watching. People looking over their quinoa and club sandwiches to see what she'd do. Where she'd sit. What she'd wear.
She ate her sandwich slowly at the far bench, legs crossed, head held high. If they were waiting for her to look uncomfortable, they'd be waiting a while.
But she could feel it.
Aria's eyes.
Drilling holes in the back of her hoodie like a crown-wearing laser beam.
Good.
Zuri didn't mean to be ignored.
Next was sixth period. Art Appreciation.
She was late. Again. So what.
The only seat left was next to Queen Aria herself. Zuri could've taken another empty desk in the back, but something pulled her toward that seat. Curiosity maybe. Or instinct.
Or maybe something else.
She sat beside her like nothing. Like she wasn't sitting next to a girl who probably had her GPA etched into a trophy somewhere.
"You're Aria, right?" she said.
Aria regarded her like she was studying a virus under a microscope. "You already know who I am."
Zuri smiled. "Yeah. People talk.".
And they had. Aria was a big deal here. But Zuri wasn't into crowns or cliques. She was into truth and something about Aria didn't add up. She was polished, perfect, powerful… but there was a crack behind her eyes.
Zuri could see it.
She always could.
She said one more thing before the lights went out. A truth.
"You sound like a movie villain."
Aria didn't respond, but something inside her clenched. Just a little. Just enough.
Zuri leaned back, satisfied.
Because no matter how hard a girl tried to seem untouchable, the truth had a way of crawling beneath the surface.
And Zuri?
She was really good at finding the truth.
After school, Zuri walked toward the courtyard. The sun was already setting in the sky, tinting the peak of the cherry blossom tree with gold. She sat on the edge of the stone fountain, slipping on her headphones. Music did a decent job of blocking out the noise. The staring. The whispering. The walls closing in around her.
She pressed play.
Old-school R&B. Her zone. Her anchor.
But nothing dispelled the sensation that had dogged her throughout the day not nerves, not stress.
Recognition.
It didn't add up. She had never met Aria Dalton before. Didn't know her. And yet…
Something about her felt too familiar.
Zuri didn't do coincidences. Not with people. Not with instincts.
She pulled her hoodie tight and hunched forward, elbows on knees. There had been something in Aria's eyes not arrogance, though, but… confusion? As if Zuri had exposed something she couldn't put a name to.
Good.
Let her be confused.
Zuri had been confused her whole life.
She did not know why she'd always felt like half a sentence. Like a part of her was missing, just out of reach. No matter how much her mother loved her, no matter how she struggled to keep her feet on the ground, something always tugged underneath the surface.
Like a string tightening in her chest.
Now, sitting in this perfect little school surrounded by glass smiles and ironed uniforms, she felt that thread again.
And for the first time… it didn't feel like it was pulling her backward.
It felt like it was pulling her toward something.
Toward her.
That night, Zuri lay on her bed, fingers drumming softly against her chest.
She reached beneath her pillow and drew out an old photo. Frayed at the edges. Her mother never wished to talk about it. Said only, "It's from back when. Back when everything was simple."
The photo was of a baby. Zuri, probably. Swaddled in a hospital blanket.
But there was something in the background behind the baby. The hand of a woman a red bracelet and a gold bracelet and something small. The corner of another bassinet.
She'd never noticed before.
Until now.
She turned the photo beneath the lamp, stared at the blurry corner for a long while.
Then she rummaged through her drawer and pulled out a pen. On the back, she wrote just one question:
"Was I born alone?"
And for the first time in a long time…
She wasn't sure what answer she was wanting.
The next morning, Zuri woke up before her alarm.
She stared up at the ceiling of her small bedroom, which was sky blue and covered with posters of old soul singers and handwritten lyrics stuck to the wall. Her mother was already up, humming in the kitchen to gospel music and clattering plates around like she always did before sunrise. Comforting. Familiar.
Nevertheless, Zuri couldn't shake the question she'd written down the night before.
Was I born alone?
She shoved the photo into her backpack and sat on the edge of her bed, grasping the straps as though they could hold her in place. That sensation from the previous day was still present. That invisible string. Tugging again.
She couldn't explain it except that since she looked into Aria Dalton's eyes, the tug had grown stronger. Louder.
And maybe, just maybe, this perfect school was the beginning of something she was meant to find.
Zuri was quiet at breakfast.
Her mother, Valerie, set down a plate of toast and eggs, drying her hands on a dish towel. "You're being quiet," she said gently, giving her a glance that saw way too much.
Zuri shrugged. "New school. Just adjusting."
Her mother hesitated. "Anyone giving you trouble?"
"Nope."
"Anyone you like?"
Zuri snorted. "Hard no."
That earned a smile. Valerie came over and brushed a curl behind Zuri's ear in that manner she had when trying to say I love you without saying it.
Zuri almost asked. Right there.
She almost held up the picture and asked the question ripping at her throat:
Was I meant to have a sister?
But she didn't.
Because her mom's eyes had that look in them the one that always came into them when the past was threatening to get too close. The one that meant "Danger, Zuri, don't poke the wound."
So she didn't.
Not yet.
By the third period, the whispers were audible.
People didn't just look at her anymore they looked between her and Aria. Like they were looking at something they couldn't quite name.
In Chemistry, a boy behind her said loudly.
"Y'all look kinda similar, you know that?"
Zuri's eyes blinked.
Aria, two rows away, didn't even turn her head. But her hand paused in mid-note, pen suspended over paper.
Zuri watched her. That same pose. That same rigid shoulder line.
Not exactly similar. But… something.
It was making her heart pound too hard in her chest.
At lunch, she sat by herself again, headphones on, trying to drown out the stares. She didn't require attention. She required truth. And something inside her now bigger than curiosity. Deeper than coincidence.
It was knowing.
Not logical. Not provable.
But real.
Like the string between her and Aria wasn't merely metaphor. It was memory. Buried. Broken. But still there.
That night, she was in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth when she noticed it.
A mark.
A tiny, pale crescent-shaped scar beneath her collarbone.
She scowled and tugged her shirt down.
She'd never noticed it before. Or maybe she'd never looked.
But something about it made her pause.
Like maybe… she wasn't alone in having it.
Her breath caught.
And in that instant, she knew exactly what she had to do.
Tomorrow, she'd stop by the school nurse's office during free period. She'd ask to see her enrollment file.
Then maybe… the truth would finally start to unravel.
The school nurse was out at lunch.
Of course she was.
Zuri hovered outside the door to the office, pretending to scroll through her phone, but her eyes were on the narrow glass panel. The lights were off. No sound of movement. No sign of life.
Her free period was about over.
She glanced both ways down the hallway. Empty.
Something buzzed in her chest destiny or adrenaline, maybe both.
She wasn't usually the rule-breaking type. Okay, she had a smart mouth and a quick wit, but picking locks on closed offices? Not her MO.
But… something about this school made her think that everything was simmering just below the surface, waiting to tear wide open.
She tested the door handle.
Locked.
She exhaled forcefully and turned to leave then noticed the janitor's cart parked beside the stairwell.
She didn't think. She moved.
Seconds later, she was sliding the narrow laminated edge of a discarded hall pass between the door and the frame. Her heart racing in her throat. A faint click. The door groaned open.
Zuri slipped inside.
The nurse's office smelled of peppermint and paperwork. Metal cabinets lined the wall, and there was a file organizer on the desk.
She read the tabs quickly.
Hart, Zuri.
Middle drawer. Bottom row.
She opened it, sat down in the chair, and riffled through.
Medical forms. Contact information. Immunization dates. Nothing unusual.
Then she saw it Birth records.
Zuri leaned forward.
Born at St. Jude's Memorial Hospital. 11:36 p.m.
Her eyes narrowed.
There was something… scratched out on the lower half. A second line.
Another baby?
The ink had been smudged as though someone had tried to cover it up. But there was still the faintest shape of a word under the black line.
"Twin."
Her breath caught.
Twin?
She read it again. The paper trembled in her hand.
Was I born alone?
The question she had scribbled on the back of the photo echoed in her head like thunder.
No.
She hadn't been.
A noise echoed down the hallway.
Zuri shoved the file back into the drawer, closed it quietly, and just caught a glimpse of a group of freshmen darting past, laughing.
She walked away, heartbeat still pounding in her chest.
She didn't know what this was yet.
She didn't know who her twin was.
But some part of her already did.
And it scared her more than anything:
That the girl with the perfect posture, the cultured laugh, and the unbreakable walls…
Aria Dalton
…might not be her enemy.
She might be her sister.