Alice Hart wasn't a nice girl.
At least, that's what everyone said. Teachers called her disrespectful. Parents called her rude. Some students called her scary. And the rest simply labeled her a mean girl. Alice didn't care. If a teacher was unfair, she said it. If a classmate was fake, she pointed it out. If an adult spoke nonsense, she wasn't going to nod politely and pretend to agree. She never bullied anyone. Never spread rumors. Never excluded people. But she also refused to sugarcoat the truth just to protect someone's feelings. Unfortunately, honesty was often mistaken for cruelty. So by the time she turned seventeen, Alice Hart had become the unofficial villain of Westbridge High School.
She had long chestnut-brown hair, sharp gray eyes, and a permanent expression that looked like she was judging the entire world. Which, honestly, she usually was. People avoided arguing with her because they knew they would lose. Not because she shouted.
Because she was right. Almost annoyingly right.
Her grades were always among the top three in school. Mathematics, science, literature—she excelled at everything. Yet despite all her achievements, home was never peaceful.
"A ninety-four? Why not ninety-eight?"
"Did Olivia score higher than you?"
"You need to think about university."
"Your future depends on these grades."
Those words echoed endlessly in her house. Her parents loved her. She knew that. But their expectations sat on her shoulders like concrete blocks. Every exam felt like a battlefield. Every report card felt like a trial. Sometimes Alice wondered if anyone actually saw her beyond her grades and labels.
Luckily, she had friends.
Three of them.
And somehow, society had labeled all four girls as the "mean girl group."
The irony was hilarious. They were probably the biggest nerds in school.
The first day of her second semester began with Alice walking through the crowded hallways. Students laughed. Lockers slammed. Teachers barked instructions.
The usual chaos. Alice pushed open the classroom door. Immediately, several students glanced her way before looking away. She ignored them. Her destination was already clear. The back row. Always the back row.
Three familiar faces were already waiting. "Finally!" a cheerful voice called. Alice smirked. "Morning, Grace." Grace Walker practically bounced in her seat.
If sunshine became a human being, it would probably look like Grace. Her blonde hair was tied into a messy ponytail, and she wore a vintage film-print pin on her bag. Grace was obsessed with history. Not the boring textbook kind. The real kind. Old movies. Old music. Old fashion. Old celebrities. If someone mentioned the 1970s, Grace could talk for three hours. Mention the 1980s and she'd talk for six. Mention black-and-white films and she'd never stop. "I stayed awake until three watching old Hitchcock movies," Grace announced proudly.
Alice raised an eyebrow. "You say that like it's an achievement."
"It is an achievement."
"It's insomnia."
"You're jealous."
"I'm concerned."
Grace grinned. "Same thing."
Next sat a girl with short dark hair who looked permanently annoyed by human existence. This was Emily Carter. Emily barely looked up from the notebook she was writing in.
"Morning."
"Morning," Alice replied.
Emily was the opposite of Grace. Reserved. Quiet. Boyish. She hated unnecessary conversations. Yet somehow she was the lead singer of the school band. Nobody understood how. The moment she stepped on stage, she transformed. Confident. Powerful. Magnetic. She could play guitar. She could play synthesizer. And although nobody knew it, she secretly wrote dozens of songs every year. Most of them never left her notebook.
"What are you writing?" Alice asked.
Emily immediately closed the notebook.
"Nothing."
"That's suspicious."
"Good."
Alice laughed.
The final member of their group sat beside Emily. Sophia Reed. The most dangerous person among them. Not because she was scary. Because she was good at everything. Sophia had shoulder-length black hair and paint stains on her fingers. As usual. She won art competitions regularly. She won sports tournaments regularly. She could beat most students at chess. And somehow still had time to binge entire Netflix series in two days. Academically, however, she was average. Not bad. Not excellent. Just average. Which constantly annoyed her.
"I'm telling you," Sophia said while sketching in her notebook, "that queen sacrifice was completely unnecessary."
Alice blinked.
"Good morning to you too."
Sophia looked up.
"Oh. Morning."
Grace laughed.
"She's been replaying yesterday's chess match in her head."
"I would have won in eleven moves."
"You lost."
"Details."
The four girls settled into their usual routine. It felt comfortable. Normal. Safe. Then Alice noticed something unusual. The front row. Several unfamiliar students sat there. New transfers. Interesting.
The classroom door opened. Their homeroom teacher entered. Mr. Collins. A middle-aged man who looked permanently exhausted.
"Good morning, class."
A collective groan answered him.
"Wonderful enthusiasm," he sighed.
Then he gestured toward the front.
"As some of you may have noticed, we have transfer students joining us this semester."
Immediately, whispers spread across the room. New students always attracted attention. One by one, the teacher introduced them. A tall boy from another city. A cheerful girl who recently moved due to her parents' work. Another quiet student who barely spoke. Alice listened absentmindedly. Until the final introduction.
"This is Damian Jones."
Alice's eyes lifted.
The boy stood.
For a moment, the classroom became unusually quiet.
He was tall. Around six feet. Dark brown hair. Sharp jawline. Calm blue eyes. Not flashy. Not dramatic. Yet somehow impossible to ignore.
"Hello," he said simply.
His voice was steady. Confident. No attempt to impress anyone. No nervousness. No awkwardness. Just calm. Interesting.
Alice looked away first. Not because she was flustered. Because she wasn't interested. Or at least that's what she told herself. The next few days passed quickly. And Damian Jones became the hottest topic in school. Literally.
Girls talked about him everywhere. Hallways. Cafeteria. Library. Gym. Everywhere. Apparently he was charming. Athletic. Smart. Funny. And somehow good-looking enough to make half the female population lose common sense.
Alice found it ridiculous. Then she accidentally saw him during baseball practice. And understood. A little. Only a little. The boy was absurdly athletic. His movements were smooth. Effortless. Powerful. He hit baseballs like they personally offended him. The sports coach practically worshipped him. Meanwhile, his grades were excellent. Teachers liked him. Students liked him. Boys considered him one of their own. Girls treated him like a celebrity. It was annoying. Suspiciously perfect. Yet Alice observed something interesting. Damian rarely spoke to girls. He wasn't rude. Just distant. Polite but reserved. Meanwhile around boys, he became completely different. Loud. Competitive. Social. Almost like he wore different masks.
"You're staring."
Alice nearly jumped. Sophia appeared beside her.
"I wasn't."
"You were."
"No."
"You absolutely were."
Alice rolled her eyes.
"Go away."
Sophia grinned.
"No."
A week later, sports class arrived. Unfortunately. Alice hated sports. Not because she was bad at them. Because they were exhausting. That afternoon, the girls were assigned basketball practice. The sun was brutal. Heat shimmered above the court. Students groaned. The coach blew his whistle. And practice began.
At first everything seemed normal. Alice dribbled. Passed. Ran. Repeated. Then something felt wrong. Her stomach twisted. Pain stabbed through her abdomen. She slowed. Sweat covered her forehead. The world seemed strangely blurry. Maybe she was dehydrated. Maybe she skipped breakfast. Maybe—
A violent wave of nausea struck. Alice stopped moving. Her vision swayed. Across the field, baseball practice was taking place. Damian happened to glance toward the basketball court. And froze. Alice dropped the ball. Several girls turned.
"Alice?"
Then it happened. She vomited. Directly onto the court. Gasps erupted. The basketball rolled away. Alice barely heard anything. Everything sounded distant. Muffled. Like she was underwater. Another wave of dizziness hit. Her knees buckled. The sky tilted. Then darkness.
Damian watched the entire incident unfold. For a moment he stood completely still. The baseball bat hung loosely in his hand. Students rushed toward the fallen girl. Teacher shouted. The school nurse was called. Chaos exploded across the court. Damian took one step forward. Then stopped. What exactly was he supposed to do? He wasn't her friend. They barely spoke. Several teachers had already reached her. There was nothing useful he could contribute. Still. Something about the scene bothered him. Alice Hart. The girl who always looked fearless. The girl who argued with teachers. The girl who seemed impossible to break. She looked strangely fragile lying unconscious on the ground. Damian frowned. But the image remained in his mind.
When Alice opened her eyes again, she was in the school infirmary. The room smelled faintly of disinfectant. A familiar face sat beside her. Her mother. Relief immediately appeared on the woman's face.
"Thank goodness."
Alice blinked.
"What happened?"
"You fainted."
"Oh."
"You scared everyone."
Alice groaned.
"Great."
The nurse approached.
"You should get checked immediately."
Alice nodded weakly. Everything hurt. Especially her stomach. Soon afterward, her mother signed the necessary papers and helped her into the car. The drive home felt endless. Every bump in the road made her feel worse. Eventually they arrived at a clinic. Doctors conducted examinations. Blood tests. Questions. More questions. Then finally, a diagnosis. The doctor adjusted his glasses. "Fortunately, it's nothing serious." Alice's mother sighed in relief.
"What is it?"
"Severe food poisoning."
Alice stared.
"Food poisoning?"
The doctor nodded.
"You likely consumed contaminated food recently."
Her mother immediately turned toward her.
"What did you eat?"
Alice thought carefully. Then remembered. A suspiciously cheap sandwich from a convenience store two days earlier.
"...Probably a terrible life decision."
The doctor laughed.
"That sounds about right."
Her mother did not laugh. Alice knew a lecture was coming. A very long lecture. But surprisingly, she felt too tired to care. For the first time in weeks, school. Grades. Pressure. Expectations. Everything seemed far away. As she leaned back in her chair, she didn't notice the text message being sent elsewhere.
At that exact moment, back at Westbridge High, Damian Jones stared at his phone. A teammate had sent him an update. Alice Hart is okay. Food poisoning. Damian read the message twice. Then quietly put his phone away. For reasons he couldn't explain, he felt relieved. And that confused him more than anything.