I didn't pack much.
Just a worn backpack, three hoodies that still smelled like the past, a cracked phone I never turned off airplane mode, and a journal I never dared open. That's all I brought with me to Ravenshade Academy..the place where good reputations go to die.
I had heard a few times that "Ravenshade Academy was always the place for a fresh start."
I shook my head at that.
Fresh starts are for people who haven't already bled out in the last one.
The car ride was quiet. The driver, a silent, square-jawed man in black, never looked at me. Not once. Just drove through endless forest roads until we reached the gates. Wrought iron. Tall. Sharp. Dramatic enough to belong in a horror movie or a bad dream.
The sign read:
RAVENSHADE ACADEMY
Excellence. Discipline. Legacy.
Legacy.
That word made my stomach tighten. My legacy was a scar no one wanted to touch. A file buried in a high school office two cities away. A headline no one speaks aloud but everyone remembers when they see my name.
Nova Vale. The girl from the story. The one who..
"Miss Vale," the driver said as the car slowed to a stop. "You're here."
I stepped out into cold September air, heavy with rain and secrets. Ravenshade's campus stretched before me like something out of a Gothic novel. Stone buildings, stained-glass windows, ivy crawling like veins. Students in tailored uniforms swarmed the courtyard like ants, laughing, hurrying, whispering.
And every single one of them turned to look at me.
The New Girl. The Transfer. The Nobody.
I adjusted my hoodie, shoved my hands in my pockets, and walked.
My dorm was in Ashmoor Hall. Room 3C.
The girl inside already had music blasting, shoes kicked under her desk, and bright red hair spilling across her pillow. She was painting her nails black and didn't even look up when I entered.
"You must be Nova," she said, casual. "I'm Lena. I sleep on the left. You get the murder bed by the window. Welcome to hell."
"Thanks," I muttered, dropping my bag.
She turned then, her eyes sharp and amused. "You're famous, you know."
I froze. "What?"
She smirked. "The Blogger posted about you last night. Before you even arrived."
My heart clenched.
"The who?"
She sat up and grabbed her phone. "You seriously don't know? The Blogger. Capital B. They run a site that spills everyone's secrets. Think Gossip Girl, but real. And crueler. You get a nickname if you're lucky. A ruined life if you're not."
I felt the hairs on my neck rise.
Lena scrolled, then held up her screen.
There it was.
A blurry photo of me. Taken from behind at a gas station.
Captioned:
"The Broken One has arrived. Let the games begin."
My vision tunneled.
I hadn't even stepped foot in class yet, and already… they knew. Someone was watching me.
"They're just trying to rattle you," Lena said, softer now. "Happens to everyone eventually."
But they hadn't called her the Broken One.
They hadn't posted her photo like a warning shot.
My first class was English. Room 207.
I entered just before the bell and scanned the room. Students clustered in pairs. Tables full. Whispers under breath.
Only one seat was empty.
Last row, center.
Figures.
I took it.
That's when I noticed it, a carved message on the desk.
Not written in ink. Carved. Deep and jagged like someone had meant it to last.
"Everyone's hiding something. Even you."
I stared at the words for a long moment.
Someone cleared their throat beside me.
I looked up and met his eyes.
Him.
Ezra Maddox.
Golden boy. Student council president. Charming as hell.
His jawline had its own fan club. His smile had rumors attached to it. He sat diagonally across from me, watching.
"New girl in the last row," he said, voice smooth as velvet. "Brave."
"Why?" I asked.
He leaned in, still smiling.
"That's where the Blogger used to sit."
Lunch was worse.
Lena sat with me under a tree behind the gym, sharing chips and whispers. I asked her why she didn't sit in the dining hall.
"Because the wolves sit there," she said. "And some of them have names."
She pointed.
"That's Celine,cheer captain. Ruthless. Her boyfriend Beau? Football god, moral black hole. That group over there? They run the school like a monarchy. But none of them are safe from the Blogger. Last month, someone leaked Beau's fake scholarship. Boom scandal."
"And Ezra?" I asked, before I could stop myself.
She raised a brow.
"Ezra's untouchable. Or so he thinks. Some say he is the Blogger."
I stiffened. "Seriously?"
She shrugged. "Could be him. Could be you. Could be me."
She winked. I didn't laugh.
Because deep down, I could feel it already: this school was watching. Listening. Waiting to devour whoever stumbled next.
That night, as I lay awake in my bed by the window, the wind howled through the cracks in the glass.
At 2:03 a.m., my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
"Find me, Nova. Or I'll find you."
-The Blogger
I stared at the screen until it went dark.
And I knew this school had never been safe. Not for anyone.
Especially not me.