The first day at a new school always felt like a blank canvas—clean, intimidating, and full of possibilities that made Lia Chen's stomach twist with nerves.
She clutched her sketchpad to her chest like a shield, her fingers gripping the worn leather cover tightly as she stepped into the wide courtyard of Crescent High School. Students moved in clusters, their laughter echoing between the modern glass buildings. Everything felt bigger here. Louder. Shinier. Even the uniforms were tailored better than the ones she wore at her old school.
Lia let out a slow breath and fixed the strap of her backpack on her shoulder.
"You've got this," she muttered to herself. "Just make it through today. That's all."
As she passed under a line of cherry blossom trees that lined the pathway, petals danced around her shoes like shy butterflies. It would have made a beautiful sketch—if her hands weren't shaking.
Her first class was Literature, and as she stepped into the room, she felt dozens of eyes glance her way. The teacher, a kind-looking woman with square glasses, offered her a soft smile.
"Class, this is Lia Chen. She's just transferred here from River Heights Secondary. Please make her feel welcome."
There were murmurs of "Hi" and polite nods. A few girls smiled warmly. Most people returned to their books within seconds. But Lia could still feel the afterglow of their curiosity like heat on her back.
"You can sit next to Kai," the teacher said.
Lia turned her head, expecting to see someone who looked at least a little friendly.
Instead, her eyes landed on a boy sitting by the window, his head slightly tilted toward the glass. He had a pencil in his hand, held like a conductor's baton, and a faint scowl on his face as if the sunlight had interrupted a complicated thought. His jet-black hair fell slightly over his eyes, and his uniform sat perfectly on his tall, lean frame.
He didn't even look at her.
Lia swallowed.
So much for a soft start.
She sat beside him quietly, placing her sketchpad in her lap. Kai didn't move, didn't flinch. He didn't acknowledge her presence at all.
She was halfway through copying her notes from the board when her pencil rolled off her desk and landed on the floor—right by Kai's foot.
Lia reached to grab it at the same time he bent down, and their fingers brushed for a brief second.
He glanced at her then, finally. His eyes were sharp and unreadable, like storm clouds waiting to break.
"i'm sorry," she said quickly, pulling her hand back.
He handed her the pencil without a word.
The silence was deafening after that.
After Literature, the rest of her classes blurred into one another. The teachers were nice, the hallways clean, and most students left her alone—which she honestly preferred. During lunch, she found an empty bench at the far end of the courtyard and opened her sketchpad, finally allowing herself to breathe.
She flipped to a fresh page and began sketching the view: the cherry blossom tree swaying, the way the light filtered through the petals. Drawing always made her feel less invisible, even when no one saw the art.
She got lost in the lines, in the silence, in her own world.
"Wow… That's really good."
Startled, Lia looked up. A girl with curly auburn hair and glossy lips stood in front of her with a bright smile.
"I'm Rina Han," she said, plopping down beside her without asking. "You're the new girl, right? I saw you in Literature class with Kai."
Lia blinked. "You know him?"
Rina laughed. "Everyone knows Kai Yoon. He's the top student, student council prefect, and lowkey a walking mystery. Girls love him. He talks to no one."
Lia looked away. "He didn't say much."
"That's him. But he's not rude. Just... kind of emotionally constipated."
Lia choked on a laugh, surprised by the girl's boldness. Rina grinned.
"Anyway, I like your drawing. Do you always sketch alone?"
"I guess. It's a habit."
"Well, not anymore. You've got a new friend now."
That afternoon, things started to feel a little less scary.
---
After school, Lia returned to her locker to grab a few things before heading out. She fumbled with her bag, unknowingly knocking her sketchpad from where it had been tucked behind a folder. It landed on the floor with a quiet thud.
She didn't notice.
But someone else did.
Kai, walking down the hallway in his usual silent manner, paused when he saw the leather-bound book on the floor. He recognized it. The new girl always carried it like it held her heart.
He bent down, picking it up carefully.
His eyes flickered to the page that had accidentally opened—one that showed a side-profile sketch of someone sitting by the window in Literature class.
It was him.
He stared at it for a long moment. Not with arrogance. But with quiet surprise.
Then he closed the sketchpad, placed it on top of her bag gently, and walked away without a sound.