A sleek white 2025 Ford glided into the school parking lot, its polished surface gleaming like a mirror under the morning sun. Heads turned as the car came to a smooth halt in front of the main entrance. Everyone already knew who it was—Chloe Reid.
The girl who claimed the title of the richest student in school—and no one dared contest it.
That title wasn't just a name; it gave her power. Influence. The ability to command respect, or at least fear. She walked the halls like royalty, and even teachers treaded carefully around her sharp tongue. She was rude, arrogant, and often cruel. Yet somehow, most students didn't call it what it was. They called it *bossy.* *Confident.* They idolized her for the very traits others would be condemned for.
The car door opened with a soft hiss, and Chloe stepped out, her presence already commanding attention. The sunlight bounced off her silky blonde hair, which cascaded past her shoulders in gentle waves. Her eyes, rimmed in smoky eyeliner, were a deep and unforgiving black. Her skin was smooth, sun-kissed, and radiant. While not the most beautiful in school, she was attractive—striking enough to hold a crowd's attention.
Her heels clicked against the tiled floor as she made her way through the school hallway, every step exuding pride and privilege.
"Hey girl, you're looking hot!" a voice called out.
It was Jasmine, her close friend, hurrying to join her.
"Not as hot as you. How was your night?" Chloe replied, flashing a rare smile as the two girls strutted side by side, their synchronized movements pulling the gaze of nearly every boy in the hallway.
Jasmine was a striking contrast with her fiery red hair and slightly younger frame. She had been Chloe's shadow since their first day in high school, and the two had been inseparable since. While Jasmine lacked Chloe's sharp edge, she had learned to move with the same confidence.
They stopped at their lockers, each girl retrieving a few books with practiced ease. Chloe's fingers trailed across the spines as if even textbooks bowed to her.
"Hey girl!" Jasmine chirped excitedly as she spotted Rachel entering the class.
"Hey girls!" Rachel responded warmly as they flanked her, taking the seats beside her and placing her in the center—where she naturally belonged.
Rachel, another blonde, had an angelic glow about her. The prettiest among the trio, she had a magnetic smile that could melt the iciest hearts. She wasn't as vocal as Chloe or as clingy as Jasmine, but her elegance spoke for her.
"You're early today," Chloe said, leaning back against her chair with a teasing smirk.
"Yeah, kind of suspicious," Jasmine added, raising an eyebrow.
Rachel rolled her eyes and laughed lightly. "My dad. He's been insisting I get to school earlier these days."
The girls exchanged knowing glances. Rachel's father was a high-ranking officer in the military—strict, disciplined, and impossible to argue with. No one questioned Rachel's punctuality when it came to him.
****
**Meanwhile…**
Students spilled out of the school bus in waves, chattering and laughing as they made their way through the school grounds. Jason remained behind, standing at the edge of the crowd, his eyes fixed on the school gate like clockwork.
It had become a silent ritual—every morning, he waited.
And then she appeared.
Ashley walked through the gate with her usual quiet grace, her thin brown hair fluttering gently in the breeze. Her skin glistened with sweat from her early-morning run, and her soft brown eyes were alert but tired. Her pink lips pressed together in a way that made her look both delicate and determined.
If beauty were judged by purity and natural grace, Ashley would be the most beautiful girl in school. But status had a way of overshadowing truth.
Jason trailed behind her slowly, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He had planned countless conversations in his head, calculated the perfect approach. But every morning, his confidence failed him.
He sighed, watching from a distance as she stopped at her locker.
Ashley wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt and twisted the lock open, her mind still racing from the near-late arrival. As she reached inside, her fingers brushed something unfamiliar—thin, folded paper. Curious, she pulled it out.
It was a letter.
She unfolded it, eyes scanning the words quickly. It was an invitation to work as a waitress at the upcoming last-semester party the following Saturday. The note was signed by Alex—one of her classmates. Her brows furrowed. It was work, and she needed money. But the idea of mingling with those same classmates who sneered at her? It made her stomach twist.
With a quiet sigh, she folded the letter and shoved it back into her locker, slamming the door gently shut. She turned toward her class, unaware of the pair of eyes still watching her from across the hall.
Jason remained frozen for a second longer, then quietly followed.
Inside the classroom, Chloe rose from her seat, her voice rising above the chatter like a trumpet.
"Alright, everyone! Since this is our final semester, we'll continue the tradition set by our seniors. The richest kid in the class hosts the graduation party," she announced dramatically, smirking.
"And for our class, Alex has volunteered to host it next Saturday!"
A murmur of excitement rippled through the room. Then her voice turned sharper.
"And unlike our previous parties, this one's open to *everyone*—including Ashley."
Laughter erupted.
Ashley managed a small, strained smile. The same routine. The same humiliation. She had long learned to swallow the sting and move on.
"Thank you, everyone. Remember, next week, Saturday!" Chloe said with flair as the class clapped politely.
The classroom buzzed with new energy—discussions about outfits, plans, and poses for the camera. Photos from the party would be featured in the school magazine, and everyone wanted to be seen.
Except Jason. He sat at his desk, quietly crafting a new plan in his head. Maybe the party would be his chance. His chance to finally talk to her.
A figure walked up to Ashley's desk—broad-shouldered, dressed in a simple tank top under her uniform jacket.
"Hey girl," said Samantha, her voice deep and confident.
"Hey, Sam! How was your workout?" Ashley asked, smiling as Samantha dropped into the seat beside her.
"Man, I've got a fight next Saturday night. Gotta train harder," Samantha said, stretching her arms. Her knuckles were wrapped, still marked from sparring.
Ashley nodded. Sam was an MMA fighter. Fierce, proud, and brutally skilled. If not for her uncle, she would've never set foot in a high school. But she had big dreams—fighting full-time after graduation. Her reputation alone kept the bullies at bay.
"Well, that explains why you're late," Ashley teased just as the teacher walked into the classroom, silencing the noise.
The day had officially begun.