The morning air was cool as the school bus stopped in front of Westbridge High School.
I tightened the strap of my backpack and stepped onto the sidewalk, staring at the huge brick building in front of me.
"This is it," I whispered.
A new school.
A new beginning.
After moving from Chicago to a quiet town in Oregon because of my mom's new job, I had promised myself one thing—I wasn't going to attract attention. I would study hard, make a few friends, and graduate without any unnecessary drama.
At least, that was the plan.
Students rushed past me, laughing and talking about homework, basketball practice, and weekend plans.
I took a deep breath and walked through the front doors.
Everything felt unfamiliar.
The hallways were decorated with school banners, lockers stretched from one end to the other, and teachers greeted students by name.
I wished I could disappear.
"Can I help you?"
A woman with glasses smiled at me from the reception desk.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm Daniel Carter. I'm the new transfer student."
"Oh, welcome! We've been expecting you."
She handed me my timetable and pointed toward Room 204.
"Your homeroom teacher is Mrs. Thompson. Don't worry. You'll be fine."
I thanked her and followed the directions.
The closer I got to Room 204, the faster my heart beat.
Being the new kid was never easy.
I knocked softly.
"Come in," a gentle voice answered.
The classroom became completely silent the moment I entered.
Twenty-five pairs of eyes turned toward me.
Mrs. Thompson smiled.
"Class, this is Daniel Carter. He transferred here this morning. Let's make him feel welcome."
A few students waved politely.
Others simply nodded.
"Daniel," the teacher continued, "there's an empty seat near the back."
I looked toward the seat.
As I walked down the aisle, whispers began to spread across the room.
"That's the new guy."
"He looks quiet."
"I wonder where he's from."
I pretended not to hear them.
The empty seat was beside a cheerful-looking boy with curly brown hair.
He smiled immediately.
"Hey! I'm Ethan."
"Daniel."
"It's nice to meet you."
"You too."
Mrs. Thompson started the lesson, but Ethan leaned closer.
"So..."
"So?"
"You're lucky."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"You got the only empty seat."
"That doesn't sound lucky."
He laughed quietly.
"Trust me. You'll understand."
I looked around in confusion.
Understand what?
The lesson continued.
Ten minutes later, Mrs. Thompson asked everyone to solve a math problem on the board.
As students stood one after another, I noticed something strange.
Nobody walked near the last desk in the corner.
It was occupied by a girl.
She sat quietly, writing in a notebook.
Long black hair covered part of her face.
She didn't talk.
She didn't laugh.
She didn't even look up.
It was almost as if she didn't exist.
"Who's that?" I whispered.
Ethan's smile disappeared.
"You don't know?"
"I just got here."
He looked around carefully before lowering his voice.
"Her name is Zara."
"Okay..."
"Stay away from her."
I blinked.
"What?"
"I'm serious."
"Why?"
"You'll find out."
I waited for him to explain.
He didn't.
Instead, he faced the front of the class as if the conversation had never happened.
That only made me more curious.
When the lunch bell rang, everyone rushed out.
Everyone...
Except Zara.
She remained seated, reading a novel.
I packed my books and started toward the cafeteria.
As I reached the classroom door, I looked back.
She was still reading.
Alone.
For some reason, I felt sorry for her.
Maybe she simply liked being alone.
Maybe people misunderstood her.
Or maybe...
There really was something everyone knew except me.
Lunch was loud.
Students filled every table.
I found Ethan waving at me.
"Over here!"
I sat beside him.
"So," I said, "are you finally going to tell me why everyone avoids Zara?"
He sighed.
"I shouldn't."
"But you started it."
"I know."
He looked around before speaking again.
"They say she's bad luck."
I almost laughed.
"Bad luck?"
"I'm serious."
"That's impossible."
"Last year, two students who became friends with her transferred away."
"Transferred?"
"Yeah."
"And another got suspended."
I shook my head.
"That could just be a coincidence."
"Maybe."
"What actually happened?"
"No one really knows."
I leaned back.
Rumors.
Every school had them.
Usually they weren't true.
Still...
Why did everyone believe this one?
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly.
English.
History.
Chemistry.
Nothing unusual happened.
When the final bell rang, students hurried home.
I was putting my books into my locker when I heard something hit the floor.
A notebook.
I bent down to pick it up.
Someone else reached for it at the same time.
Our hands touched.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"It's okay."
It was her.
Zara.
For the first time, I saw her face clearly.
She had calm gray eyes and a tired expression that made her seem older than everyone else in school.
"You dropped this."
"Thank you."
She took the notebook carefully.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she gave me a small smile.
It wasn't the fake smile people used to be polite.
It looked... genuine.
"You must be the new student."
"Yeah."
"I'm Daniel."
"I know."
"You know?"
"The teacher introduced you."
"Oh... right."
An awkward silence followed.
Then voices echoed down the hallway.
"Daniel!"
It was Ethan.
The moment he saw me standing beside Zara, his eyes widened.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm just returning her notebook."
Ethan grabbed my arm.
"We have to go."
I looked back.
Zara's smile had disappeared.
Without another word, she walked away.
Something about the way she lowered her head made me feel guilty.
Outside the school gates, Ethan finally spoke.
"I told you not to talk to her."
"I was just helping."
"That's how it starts."
"What does that mean?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he pointed toward the parking lot.
"See that?"
I turned.
A black SUV was waiting outside the school.
The windows were completely tinted.
As Zara climbed into the back seat, I noticed a man in a dark suit open the door for her before driving away.
"Who was that?" I asked.
"No idea," Ethan replied.
"But people say she's hiding something."
That night, I couldn't stop thinking about the mysterious girl everyone feared.
She hadn't looked dangerous.
She hadn't been rude.
She had simply looked...
Lonely.
I opened my notebook to finish my homework.
Just then, I realized something.
A small piece of paper had somehow slipped between the pages.
I was sure it hadn't been there before.
Curious, I unfolded it.
There were only six words written in neat handwriting.
Don't believe everything they tell you.