Mornings are supposed to be fresh starts, right? New day, new chances to not completely mess everything up. Except, when you're the new girl, mornings feel less like a fresh start and more like being thrown to the wolves.
As I get ready for my first day at Silver Ridge High, the house is eerily quiet. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one awake, which is fine by me. I don't need any awkward breakfast conversations or forced pleasantries with my dad and Margaret. I just need to get through this morning, survive the day, and make it back home in one piece.
After a quick shower, I pull on a pair of well-fitted, high-waisted jeans that hug my frame in all the right places. The crop top I choose is simple yet stylish—black with a subtle, bold print across the front that adds an edge to my look. I top it off with my trusty leather jacket, the one that instantly makes me feel like I can take on the world. It's not just any jacket; it's vintage, with a slightly worn look that gives off a vibe of effortless coolness. The leather is buttery soft, the kind that molds perfectly to my shape, like it was made for me.
To complete the outfit, I'm rocking Multi Buckle Pointed Toe Above the Ankle High Heel Boots—Black— with just enough height to elevate the look but still practical for walking around school.
I leave my hair down, letting it fall in loose waves around my shoulders. My hair is a striking shade of dark chestnut , with natural highlights that catch the light, giving it an almost glossy sheen. It has a mind of its own—thick, with just the right amount of volume to frame my face and a hint of wildness that I've never quite been able to tame.
A quick swipe of mascara and a touch of eyeliner are all I need to make my eyes stand out. My eyes—an intense, piercing blue—are my most striking feature. They have a way of drawing people in, reflecting a depth that hints at untold stories and hidden layers. The eyeliner accentuates their shape, adding a hint of mystery to my look. I finish off with a nude lip gloss, nothing too flashy, just enough to give my lips a bit of shine.
When I glance at myself in the mirror, I see a girl who looks like she's ready to take on anything—even a high school full of strangers. My skin is clear, with a natural glow that hints at good genetics more than any skincare routine. There's an edge to my appearance, a hint of rebellion in the way I carry myself, but there's also a vulnerability that I can't quite hide. It's a careful balance between looking like I don't care and caring just enough to make a statement.
With one last glance, I grab my bag and head downstairs, feeling the weight of this new chapter pressing down on me.
The moment I step out of the house, I'm greeted by the sight of a car parked in the driveway.
Not just any car—my car.
It's sleek, black, and honestly, it looks like something out of a car commercial. The custom license plate reads HEAVEN in bold letters, and it immediately brings a bittersweet smile to my face. My mom had arranged for it before she passed, insisting that I have something that was completely mine. It was her final gift to me—a reminder of who I am, even if I'm still trying to figure that out.
I run my fingers over the smooth surface of the hood, taking in the moment. The car gleams under the morning light—a sleek, black Mercedes-AMG GT, all sharp lines and curves that exude power and elegance.
It's low to the ground with an aerodynamic shape, a car that looks like it's built for speed but with an unmistakable air of luxury. The custom matte black finish gives it an almost sinister edge, the kind of car that turns heads and commands respect without even trying.
The windows are tinted, offering a layer of privacy, while the chrome accents along the grille and wheels add a touch of sophistication. The interior is just as impressive, a perfect blend of leather and high-tech gadgetry.
It's got everything—heated seats, a state-of-the-art sound system, and a dashboard that lights up like a cockpit. It's not just a car; it's a statement.
This car is more than just a way to get around. It's a piece of home, something that connects me to my mom even though she's gone.
She always had a thing for fast cars and made sure I had one that was entirely my own, a reminder of who I am and where I come from. It's a small comfort in a world that feels completely foreign right now.
Moving here to New York from Australia has been like stepping into a different universe. Back in Australia, life was simpler, even if my mom's business kept her busy. The beaches, the laid-back vibe—it was home. But now, here I am, in the middle of New York City's chaos, trying to navigate this new life with a father I barely know and a school that might feels like a social minefield.
With a deep breath, I slide into the driver's seat, adjusting the mirrors and taking a moment to let the familiarity of it all settle in. The engine purrs to life, and I can't help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. At least some things are going right.
---
The drive to school is pretty uneventful. I follow the GPS directions to Silver Ridge High, my stomach knotting tighter with every mile. By the time I pull into the school parking lot, I'm already bracing myself for the inevitable stares.
And I'm right. The second I park, people start looking. Some are trying to be discreet about it, others... not so much. I know what they're thinking. Who's the new girl with the fancy car and the license plate that screams privilege?
It's not exactly the kind of car that blends in at a high school parking lot, but then again, I've never really been the "blending in" type. Not that I care what anyone thinks. This car is one of the few things that remind me of home, and I'll be damned if I let anyone make me feel out of place because of it. Back in Sydney, it was all about the surf and sand, not who had the latest luxury vehicle. But here, everything's different.
Well, they can think whatever they want. I didn't ask for any of this.
I shut off the engine, grab my bag, and step out of the car, feeling the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes on me. It's like I've just been dropped onto a stage and I forgot all of my lines.
I'm about to walk toward the school entrance when a voice interrupts me. A voice that sounds more annoyed than anything else.
"Hey."
I turn around to see a guy standing by the car next to mine. He's tall, probably over six feet, with an athletic build that suggests he's no stranger to the gym. His messy dark hair falls in a way that looks both carelessly styled and perfectly in place, brushing just above his sharp, dark eyebrows.
He has this sort of effortlessly cool vibe that immediately screams trouble—the kind of trouble that everyone notices and secretly wishes they were brave enough to get involved with. His eyes are a striking shade of green, framed by thick lashes, giving him a gaze that feels both intense and dismissive at the same time.
The way he carries himself exudes confidence, like he owns the space around him and is used to people bending to his will. There's a slight smirk on his lips, one that suggests he's not the type to be ignored or challenged.
"That's my spot," he says, his voice calm but with an edge to it.
I glance at the parking spot, then back at him. "Pretty sure it's a parking lot. Spots are kind of first come, first serve."
He narrows his eyes at me, like he's sizing me up. "Yeah, but that one's mine. Everyone knows that."
"Well, I didn't know," I reply, shrugging. "Guess I missed the memo."
His smirk deepens, and there's something almost... amused in his expression now. Like he didn't expect me to fight back. Like most people just roll over and let him have his way.
"Well, congratulations," he says, stepping closer. "You've just pissed off the wrong guy."
I raise an eyebrow, unfazed. "I've heard that before."
He chuckles, but there's no warmth in it. "You don't even know who I am, do you?"
I glance at his car, parked next to mine, and it's impossible not to notice it. A matte black Dodge Challenger, all muscle and menace, like it's straight out of an action movie. The car sits low and wide, with aggressive lines and a front grille that looks like it's ready to devour the road. The matte finish gives it a stealthy, almost predatory vibe, as if it's daring anyone to mess with it.
The windows are tinted nearly black, adding to the air of mystery, and the custom rims glint under the sunlight, matching the car's dark persona. The rumble of the engine when he revs it sends a shiver down my spine, a low growl that promises power and speed. It's a car that demands attention, just like the owner, and it's clear he knows how to make an entrance.. "Nope. Should I?"
"Klaus," he says, as if that explains everything.
"Klaus," I repeat, testing the name. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"
"Fine," he says with a shrug. "Have it your way. Just don't be surprised when your car gets keyed."
My smile falters, but I hold my ground. "Touch my car, and I'll make sure you regret it."
That gets his attention. His smirk widens, and there's something almost amused in his expression now. Like he didn't expect me to fight back.
"What's your name?" he asks, his voice suddenly curious.
"Why? So you can report me for parking in your imaginary spot?"
His eyes flick to the license plate on my car, and he laughs softly. "Heaven, huh? Somehow I doubt you're as angelic as your name."
I roll my eyes. "Wow, never heard that one before."
That earns me another cold laugh. "You should be careful, Heaven. People around here don't usually mess with me."
"And yet, here I am," I say, smiling sweetly. "Messing with you."
Before he can respond, I turn on my heel and start walking toward the school. I don't have time to deal with his bad-boy ego or his territorial parking space issues. I've got more important things to worry about. Like surviving the first day of school without completely falling apart.
As I walk away, I can feel his eyes on me, watching. I don't look back. I don't need to.
I can handle this. I can handle him.
---
As I head toward the school, my eyes take in Silver Ridge High. It's nothing like the schools back in Australia. The building is massive, with towering brick walls and large windows that make it look more like a college campus than a high school. A sprawling lawn stretches out in front, dotted with perfectly manicured shrubs and a few trees providing shade for the clusters of students scattered around. The main entrance is framed by an arched doorway, giving off an air of importance and prestige that matches the upscale neighborhood surrounding it.
The school's exterior screams prestige—no expense spared on its upkeep. It's a far cry from the school I attended in Australia. The interior, from what I can glimpse through the large glass doors, looks just as polished, with polished floors and wide hallways. This place is definitely a different world.
Just as I'm trying to soak it all in, two girls suddenly appear beside me, flanking me on either side like some kind of personal escort. They're both petite, with long dark hair, but that's where the similarities end.
The girl on my left is dressed in vibrant colors—a bright yellow dress that contrasts with her olive skin, paired with chunky, multicolored bracelets that jingle as she moves. Her hair is long, cascading down her back in loose waves, and her eyes are the color of caramel, warm and inviting. There's an undeniable energy about her, like she's the kind of person who lights up a room just by being in it. She's all smiles and excitement, practically bouncing on her feet as she matches my pace.
On my right is the other half of this dynamic duo. She's dressed in all black, her style much more subdued and edgy—black skinny jeans, a black crop top, and a leather jacket that rivals my own. Her hair is straight, cut bluntly at her shoulders, and her eyes are a striking ice-blue, piercing in their intensity. She carries herself with an air of cool detachment, like she's seen everything this school has to offer and is unimpressed by all of it. There's a hint of mischief in her eyes, though, like she's got a thousand secrets tucked away behind that stoic facade.
"Hey," says the one on my left, grinning. "You're the new girl, right? Heaven?"
"That's me," I reply, trying to sound casual.
The girl in the yellow dress grins even wider, practically radiating sunshine. "I'm Emerald, and this is Esmeralda," she says, gesturing to her sister. "We're twins, but obviously not identical."
"Obviously," I reply, still trying to process everything that just happened.
"We've been watching you," Emerald continues, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "And we think you're pretty cool." She gestures to her twin again, who gives me a small nod, clearly more reserved. "We saw what you did in the parking lot earlier. Pretty gutsy, standing up to Klaus like that."
"I didn't know who he was," I admit with a shrug. "Not that it would've made a difference."
Emerald's eyes widen slightly. "You seriously didn't know?"
"Nope," I say, walking with them. "Is he like, some kind of school celebrity or something?"
Esmeralda, the quieter one in black, smirks slightly. "Something like that. He's got a reputation, and people usually don't mess with him."
"Well, I guess I missed that memo," I say dryly.
"That was Klaus," the girl in black says again, as if I didn't catch it the first time. "Niklaus Belmont. People usually don't talk back to him."
"Well, someone should," I mutter, clutching my bag.
Emerald, in her bright dress, laughs—a light, musical sound that seems to draw the attention of everyone around us. "You're cool, Heaven. I think we're going to be friends."
Esmeralda rolls her eyes but gives a small smile. "What she means is, you've got guts. And we'd like to be friends with you."
"Friends?" I raise an eyebrow, unsure of how to respond to that. I've barely been here a day, and I've already attracted the attention of the school bad boy and now these two. This is definitely not how I expected my morning to go.
"Yeah," Emerald says, practically bouncing on her toes. "Friends. You stood up to Klaus, and not many people do that. That makes you cool in our book."
I shrug, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. "Sure. Friends, then."
Esmeralda doesn't say anything, but I catch her smirking as we head inside together. As I walk between the two of them, I can't help but glance back at Klaus. He's leaning against his car now, watching me with an expression that I can't quite read.
And just like that, my first day at Silver Ridge High gets a whole lot more interesting.