The School

Golderine arrived at school four minutes early, a rare occurrence that offered her a fleeting sense of accomplishment. She walked down the hall with her backpack slung over one shoulder, trying to ignore the murmur of voices and sideways glances that followed her.

Then she saw them—Stephanie Abrams and her group of minions, Stacey Cole and Julia Merth.

Stephanie and her gang were the quintessential "It Girls" of Raven's Peak High School. They flaunted designer brands like badges of honor, their perfectly coordinated outfits screaming privilege and excess. Their parents' money was a subject of pride, loudly broadcasted in every conversation. Gossip traveled fast in this small town, and everyone knew the details of their lavish lives.

Julia, it was whispered, had been caught trying to "improve" her Life Science grade by doing favors for the now-dismissed Mr. Smith. The scandal had rocked the school last year, resulting in Mr. Smith's abrupt resignation and his replacement by the no-nonsense Mrs. West.

As for Stephanie, she thrived on power and cruelty. Her group's primary pastime was making life miserable for anyone they deemed unworthy of their attention.

Unfortunately for Golderine, she was a favorite target.

Golderine sometimes wondered how she ended up in this mess. Technically, she wasn't poor. The inheritance from her parents—a staggering $100 million and a charming five-room house—meant she could have led a different life. But here she was, stuck in Raven's Peak, enduring endless torment.

Her house was a paradox. While modest in size, it boasted a stunning garden lovingly maintained by her Aunt Mariam. Roses, lilies, and other vibrant flowers adorned the space, but one plant stood out—a strange, oversized flower with white, gray, and gold hues. Its petals shimmered faintly under sunlight, and it had yet to bloom. Aunt Mariam said it was a rare and mystical flower, one-of-a-kind.

But none of that mattered at the moment. The It Girls were blocking her path, and avoiding them wasn't an option.

Stephanie smirked as Golderine approached, her piercing blue eyes glinting with malice. Before Golderine could slip past, Stephanie grabbed her by the hair.

"Ouch! Stephanie, let go!" Golderine yelped, trying to free herself.

Stephanie tugged harder, then yanked Golderine's face close to hers. "Oh, Scarlet," she cooed mockingly. "I thought your face was covered in mud. But no, that's just your cursed life showing."

"Stephanie, I don't have time for your nonsense,"Golderine said, keeping her voice steady despite the burning sting in her scalp.

Stephanie's grip tightened. "The 'Unwanted One.' That's what you are. God didn't want you to have parents, so he took them away. No one in this town wants you, either. If I were you, I'd leave."

Stacey chimed in, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Poor thing. Even if you left, no one would want you anywhere else. You're nothing but bad luck."

Julia smirked. "Touching her might give you germs. Let's go wash our hands, girls."

They sauntered off, laughing and tossing insults over their shoulders.

Golderine stood frozen for a moment, her face burning—not from the slap but from the humiliation. Yet she refused to cry. Years of enduring their taunts had taught her to steel herself in public.

She straightened her posture and walked to her classroom on the second floor, ignoring the whispers of her classmates. When she entered, the conversation fell to a murmur. They weren't subtle.

Golderine ignored them, taking her seat by the window. She pulled out her notebook and focused on her studies, letting the faint rustle of pages drown out the tension in the room.

The first period was math, taught by Mr. Evan. He was strict, demanding, and, unfortunately, biased. Stephanie and her clique strolled in late, earning a brief scolding before being allowed to sit.

As Mr. Evan asked questions, Golderine raised her hand repeatedly, but he avoided calling on her. It was a familiar routine. Teachers often ignored her, afraid to draw the ire of Stephanie's influential family.

Eventually, when no one else could answer a particularly difficult question, Mr. Evan sighed and reluctantly called on her. "Golderine, let's hear it."

She answered flawlessly, earning a grudging nod from him and shocked glares from her classmates. For once, she allowed herself a small smile of triumph.

Lunch break was her sanctuary. Golderine grabbed her backpack and slipped out to the back of the school, where a small, shaded bench beneath a tree offered solitude. She unwrapped her lunch—a simple sandwich packed by Aunt Mariam—and took a bite, savoring the quiet.

The peace didn't last. She felt eyes on her, but when she glanced around, no one was there. The sensation persisted, sending a chill down her spine.

After school, Golderine decided to stop by Granny Shileh's stall, a small pizza stand near the main street. Granny Shileh was a kind-hearted street vendor who had become one of Golderine's few sources of comfort in Raven's Peak.

"Granny Shileh, one pizza, please. No mushrooms,"Golderine said with a smile.

The old woman chuckled, her weathered face creasing with warmth. "Child, you need more vegetables. You're getting too skinny."

"Granny, how can I grow thick and fit if I'm unhappy? Besides, cheese is all the vegetable I need," Golderine teased, watching as Granny prepared the pizza.

As the dough was placed in the oven, Granny leaned over the counter, her eyes twinkling with wisdom. "Child, unhappiness doesn't come from what you eat or where you live. It comes from the heart. You need to stop dwelling on your pain. Accept yourself for who you are, not who others think you should be."

Golderine tilted her head, intrigued.

Granny continued, "You're young, with a life ahead of you. Don't waste it on bitterness. Find your path, child. You're different, and that's not a bad thing. But you must first embrace it."

Golderine felt a lump in her throat as she took the warm pizza box. "Thank you, Granny. For everything."

"Go on, child. Have a good evening," Granny Shileh said with a wave.

As Golderine walked home, Granny's words echoed in her mind. She was right. Dwelling on her pain wouldn't change the past. But how could she move forward when her very existence felt like a mistake?

The weight of her thoughts lingered as she entered the house, the comforting aroma of Aunt Mariam's cooking greeting her. Maybe, just maybe, tomorrow would be Better.