Chapter 1: "The Empty Seat",
Chapter 1: The Empty Seat
The first thing I noticed about Crestmore Academy was how quiet money could be. It wasn't the flashy kind that screamed through designer labels or diamond-studded watches. It was the hush of polished floors, the weight of tailored uniforms, and the way students walked like they owned the future.
I didn't belong here.
The navy blazer itched. The pleated skirt was too long. My shoes—polished twice the night before—still looked different, not in a good way. My mom said I looked beautiful this morning. I appreciated the lie.
"Name?" the woman at the front desk asked, not glancing up.
"Elena Velazquez."
She typed like she was stabbing the keyboard. "New transfer. You're in Class 3-A. Top floor, right wing."
I nodded, clutching my bag like a life raft. "Thank you."
The hallway to 3-A was lined with portraits of alumni. All of them looked important. Powerful. Rich. I adjusted my backpack and walked faster.
The classroom door loomed at the end of the corridor. I hesitated for half a second, then knocked.
A voice answered, "Come in."
Thirty faces turned to me as I stepped in. Thirty Crestmore blazers. Thirty eyes that saw me and instantly categorized me as new. Unfamiliar. Uninvited.
"This is Elena Velazquez," the teacher announced without ceremony. "She's just transferred from Brentwood High. Let's be welcoming."
No one spoke.
"She'll be sitting there." The teacher pointed to the seat near the back—second row from the windows. Beside him.
Even I knew who Jace Anderson was.
Everyone at Crestmore did. Even people outside of it. He was the academy's golden boy—the captain of the basketball team, MVP since freshman year, and the quiet type whose silence made girls try harder.
He didn't look at me as I walked past. His headphones were around his neck, fingers tapping lightly against the desk like he was playing an invisible beat. His eyes were on the window.
I sat down beside him. The seat creaked under me.
The girls in the row ahead whispered. One of them looked back with a smile that wasn't really a smile. Another tilted her head like she was already filing me under temporary.
The teacher started class, but my mind wandered. I could feel the attention like static on my skin—subtle, sharp. Jace didn't move or speak. Not once.
When the bell rang, I stood up too fast and knocked my pencil case off the desk. It spilled everywhere—pens, erasers, even a broken paperclip.
I crouched down to gather them, mortified. That's when a hand reached down and picked up a black pen.
I looked up.
Jace.
He handed me the pen without a word. His fingers brushed mine for a second. Then he stood and walked out like nothing happened.
I stared after him, still on the floor.
"Don't get excited," someone muttered behind me. A girl with auburn curls and sharp eyeliner. "He's like that with everyone."
I said nothing, shoved the pen into my case, and left.
Lunch was a disaster.
The cafeteria looked like a food court inside a tech company—marble counters, glass walls, touch screen menus. I scanned the room for an empty table and saw none. Not one.
"Elena!"
I turned to see Nina Patel waving from the far end. She had glasses too big for her face and a smile too bright for this school. I made my way over.
"Saved you a seat," she said, sliding her tray to make room. "Everyone else acts like seating arrangements are engraved in stone."
I sat down gratefully. "Thanks."
Nina was my only friend so far. We'd met in chemistry when our teacher paired us for a lab. She talked a lot. I listened. It worked.
"So," she said, spooning yogurt into her mouth, "what's it like sitting next to the human statue?"
"Who?"
"Jace. The guy who lives in permanent brooding mode. Bet he didn't say a word."
I shrugged. "He gave me a pen."
Nina froze. "He spoke?"
"No. Just... handed it to me."
"Oh." She relaxed. "Okay. That's still... not nothing."
Across the room, a table of girls was watching me. The auburn-haired one from earlier was in the middle, surrounded like a queen. She whispered something, and they all laughed.
I pretended not to notice. Nina did.
"That's Mia Langford," she said under her breath. "Head cheerleader. Wants Jace more than she wants college."
"Is she... dating him?"
"No one is. That's the thing. He doesn't date. He doesn't do anything. Just plays, wins, and disappears."
As we ate, I kept my head low. Still, I could feel it again—that hum of eyes on my back. It didn't stop until I left the cafeteria.
By last period, I just wanted to go home.
I stopped at my locker and found a note taped to it.
"You don't belong here. Go back to wherever you came from."
I stared at it. The handwriting was messy, angry. I crumpled it and threw it into the nearest trash bin. My fingers trembled anyway.
This was day one.
I closed my locker and turned—too fast. I slammed into someone.
"Sorry," I said, stepping back.
Jace.
He didn't flinch. Just looked at me, eyes unreadable.
"Are they bothering you?" he asked, voice low, calm.
I blinked. "What?"
He looked past me, toward the hallway where Mia and her group had just turned the corner. His jaw tightened.
"They're just... being themselves," I said. "It's fine."
It wasn't. But I didn't need a savior. Especially not him.
Jace studied me for a second, then nodded once and walked away.
No goodbyes. No explanations.
Just silence, again.
At home, I sketched.
I always did, especially when my thoughts were too loud. My room smelled like cinnamon from the candle I lit every evening. The sound of my mom cooking downstairs was a comfort.
I drew the window of the classroom. The one Jace kept staring out of. I didn't know why. Maybe because it was the only thing he looked at longer than a few seconds.
Halfway through shading the clouds, I stopped.
I remembered his hand holding the pen. His voice when he asked if they were bothering me.
There was no reason for him to care.
But he noticed.
And in a school where everyone pretended I wasn't even there—that meant something.