Alora's POV:
Hollowridge High ran on a simple economic system: reputation was currency.
And I was absolutely loaded.
"Alora, if you don't stop doodling on my biology notes," Chloe muttered, not even looking at me, "I'm telling Mr. Harrison you're the one who replaced the lab skeletons with cardboard cutouts of the Jonas Brothers."
I grinned, twirling my pen like it was a weapon. "First of all, Nick Jonas is a national treasure. Second, I finished the worksheet twenty minutes ago. My brain has reached its legal limit for cellular respiration."
She snorted despite herself.
The bell rang, salvation incarnate, and I was out of my seat before the echo died. Backpack—one shoulder. Confidence—fully charged. We spilled into the hallway, a roaring ocean of lockers slamming and voices overlapping, but for me? This chaos was home turf.
High-fives with the swim team. A near-tackle hug from Liam dodged with Olympic precision. A mental sticky note to help Sarah survive calculus later. I moved through the hall like I belonged there—because I did.
"Did you hear?" Chloe asked as we stopped at our lockers, lowering her voice like this was state intel.
I popped a grape into my mouth. "If this is about the cafeteria pizza being legally classified as plastic, I already know."
"The Russian transfer student," she said. "He's officially settled in."
I chewed. Swallowed. "You mean the guy everyone's hyping up like he's the final boss in a mafia game?"
"Kieran Black," Liam chimed in, leaning against the locker beside mine. "Half the varsity football team follows him around like disciples. He's got prison-style tattoos, doesn't talk much, and somehow keeps ending up in the principal's office smiling. Like he's untouchable."
Chloe leaned closer, eyes wide. "I heard he was expelled from his last academy for killing three students."
I blinked. "Casually?"
"They say they messed with his little sister," she whispered. "And he… handled it. Permanently."
I laughed, pushing my locker shut and leaning back against it. "Guys, please. This is Hollowridge, not a Netflix original. He's probably just another rich jerk with a leather jacket and an attitude problem. I've never met a cliché I didn't want to mock, and I'm not starting now."
Right on cue, Jax strutted past us—Kieran's newest accessory—walking like confidence was something he'd borrowed and didn't quite know how to wear.
I raised my voice just enough. "Wow. Look at Jax. Three days of following Kieran around and he's already walking like he's got a permanent wedgie. It's tragic. Like a lost puppy desperately waiting for approval."
Laughter erupted around me. Even Mia cracked up—and she was close with Jax's girlfriend, Alena. But when the bell rang again and the group scattered, Mia slipped away toward the senior lounge without a word.
I didn't notice.
I should have.
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Third Person POV:
Rumors don't travel. They metastasize.
By the time Alena heard the story, it wasn't a joke—it was a public execution. Alora Hale, golden girl of Hollowridge, had turned Jax into a punchline. A follower. A joke with a mouth and legs.
She found them in the senior lounge.
The room smelled like burnt coffee and entitlement. Kieran Black sat at the center of it all, reclined like a king who hadn't bothered to claim the throne—yet. His laughter was low, controlled. Dangerous. Jax sat close, soaking in the attention like it was oxygen.
Alena didn't look at Kieran. She wouldn't dare.
She leaned down to Jax, her lips barely brushing his ear.
"You should handle your business," she whispered sharply. "Alora Hale's been telling everyone you're Kieran's lapdog. That you're pathetic. That you'd fold the second things got real. People are laughing at you."
The smile slid off Jax's face.
Across the room, Kieran stopped laughing.
His gray eyes lifted, locking onto Jax—not angry, not amused. Just cold. Assessing. Judgment without words.
It was worse than being yelled at.
Jax stood so fast his chair screeched across the floor.
"I'll see you dead, Hale," he muttered, fists clenched, pride bleeding out through his teeth. "I'll zip your mouth shut for good."
Kieran stayed seated as Jax stormed out. He didn't intervene. He simply lit a cigarette, smoke curling like a question mark, interest flickering darkly behind his eyes.
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Alora's POV:
The sun was sinking behind the old gym, painting the brick walls orange like the building was bleeding out slowly.
"Leaving so soon, Hale?"
I turned.
Jax stood there, flanked by four guys—and a few steps back, half in shadow, was Kieran Black. He leaned against the wall like he had nowhere else to be, cigarette balanced between his fingers, smoke curling lazily around his face.
He wasn't tense.He wasn't invested.
He was watching.
"Wow," I said, eyes flicking over the group before landing back on Jax. "This is cute. You brought friends. Is this a support group or did you all just lose your spines at the same time?"
One of the guys chuckled nervously. Jax's face hardened.
"You think this is funny?" he snapped, stepping forward.
"I know it is," I replied. "You went from hallway peacock to professional shadow in three days. Honestly, it's impressive. You don't even walk like yourself anymore—you walk like someone else is holding your leash."
Behind him, Kieran exhaled smoke, a slow, quiet laugh escaping his chest. Amused. Detached. Like this was a show he'd paid to see.
Jax stiffened, humiliated all over again.
"Watch your mouth," he growled.
"Oh, relax," I said lightly. "If I wanted to embarrass you, I'd do it in public. This? This is just me being honest. You're not scary, Jax. You're loud. There's a difference."
He moved closer. Too close.
"Keep talking," he said through clenched teeth.
"I plan to," I shot back. "Because what's wild is how desperate you are for approval. You puff your chest out for him"—I tilted my head toward Kieran without even looking—"but you're not even entertainment. You're a warm-up act."
That earned me another soft laugh from the shadows.
Jax snapped.
"Shut up, you fucking bitch—"
Silence dropped like a guillotine.
My smile vanished.
I stepped forward, slow and deliberate.
"Oh," I said quietly. "So that's the word you chose."
For the first time, Jax hesitated.
I looked at all of them then—the boys who followed orders, the ones who thought strength came in numbers. And finally, I looked at Kieran.
He met my gaze, eyes sharp now, interest fully awake. Not protective. Not angry.
Curious.
"You wanted to scare me," I continued calmly. "You wanted to shut me up. Put me in my place."
I cracked my knuckles, my voice steady as stone.
"Congratulations."
I smiled—cold, unapologetic.
"You just volunteered yourselves for a lesson."
I took one more step forward.
"Let's teach you all one."
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Author's Note 🌤️🚬
Welcome to Hollowridge—where smiles are weapons 😁🔪 and rumors run faster than the bell 🗣️⏰This book began as a harmless idea and immediately chose violence. It's about sunshine that talks too much ☀️💬, shadows that watch too closely 👀🌫️, and what happens when confidence forgets to read the room 🚪💥There's heart here ❤️—just buried under sarcasm, bad timing, and consequences that show up uninvited 🎭📉Thank you for being here. Please proceed with caution. I promise the chaos is intentional 😌🔥
-Vaanni🖤