I am sitting in bed in one of my oversized (and dry, clean, thanks to the Kims’ laundry machines) tshirts, tiredly combing through my wet hair. My laptop sits in front of me, displaying a Skype video conference with my three best friends.  

“What a douchebag,” Zeke mutters after I recount the events of today. “You should tell Mrs. Kim.”

“I can’t,” I sigh. “I don’t want to give her any trouble. Besides, she’s not here most of the time. What can she even do?”

“None of this would’ve happened if someone hadn’t dared her to apply here,” Becca says pointedly. Rob flushes.

“Look, I didn’t think she’d actually have to go!” he exclaims. “Hell, I didn’t even think she’d get in- no offense, Jooyeon, but it’s Windsong and no one gets in-,”

“None taken,” I say, batting my hand.

“-but I mean, Taehyung aside, I’m sure Windsong will be okay. It’s the best school in the country. Sure, it’ll probably be full of rich kids, and sure, it’ll be hard-,”

“You’re supposed to be comforting her,” Becca mutters.

“-but my point is, you’ll learn a lot,” Rob finishes.

“That’s true,” I sigh. “You’re right. I’ll just stick it up. I should be happy I’m going there. Right?”

“Right.” Zeke says.

I hear a “Go to bed, Becca!” from Becca’s video stream. She groans.

“Alright, guys, it’s almost midnight,” she says. “We shouldn’t be exhausted on our first day of school.”

Rob nods. “True. Good night, guys! Jooyeon, keep us updated on how tomorrow goes.”

“Will do.” I wave. “Bye, guys.”

After stowing away my laptop, I slump down in my bed. What a day. I thought talking to my mom and my friends would make me feel better, but instead, I feel a million times worse. How am I supposed to get through the next two years without them? That ever-so-familiar lump rises in my throat again, and I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

I hear my phone buzz.

Unknown Number: Get me a glass of water from downstairs.

What? Who’s this? I shake my head and turn off the lamp next to my bed. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day. I’ll need all my energy.

Not five minutes pass until my lights are violently flipped on again.

“I said, I want a glass of water,” Taehyung arrogantly tells me. “Where is it?”

I angrily throw my covers aside and get out of bed. “If you want water, go get it yourself. I’m not your-,”

I am about to say maid, until I realize that in pretty much all other ways, I am. Taehyung smiles in triumph.

“That’s right. Go get me water.”

“I don’t even know where your room is.”

“Not my problem,” he says in a singsongy voice, and ambles out of the room.

Take deep breaths, Jooyeon. Keep calm. Mrs. Kim’s smiling face flashes in my mind again. Just do it.

After fifteen minutes of randomly opening up doors to find Taehyung, I finally find him sitting in a room on my floor at the end of the hall. If I thought my room was big, his is enormous. I can’t see every feature in the space since it is dark- save for a large fire that crackles in a glass hearth on one wall- but it’s clearly as beautiful as mine. Taehyung is sitting upright in his king bed, reading something on his phone. He is wearing nothing but a pair of baggy grey sweatpants, displaying his well-defined muscles.

And for the millionth time, I can’t help but feel resentful at how attractive he is. He is, by far, the most good-looking boy I have ever seen (save for the models and actors on the cover of those teen magazines Becca and I used to giggle over). It must be really nice to be so privileged-

“Are you going to stare at me forever?” he drawls.

All good feelings I had towards him immediately vanish. I stomp over, a deep scowl on my face. His eyes slide over to the glass I am holding.

“There’s no ice,” he utters, turning back to his phone.

“You didn’t ask for any.”

“Get me another one.”

“Wha- no way. Take it or leave it.” I turn around and begin to walk out of the room-

When his hand catches my wrist in an iron grip.

“Ow!” I exclaim. “Let go!”

“I said,” he utters in a low, dangerous voice. “get another one.”

His face is utterly expressionless, except for his eyes, which are blazing with cold disdain. The temperature in the room seems to have dropped twenty degrees. A strange, crawling feeling creeps over my skin and my head starts throbbing with an aching pain.

“Fine,” I snap, yanking my arm away from his grasp. Everything goes back to normal. The pain disappears. Taehyung settles back in his bed with a satisfied expression and I stumble backwards, unsettled.

What was that?, I wonder as I head down to the kitchen. Was that all just my imagination?

I must be really tired.

When I come back with his stupid ice water, he is already asleep.

I resist the temptation to dump it all over him.

    Windsong Preparatory doesn’t look like a school. It looks like an old Gothic cathedral plopped in the middle of the wintery Northeastern plains.

    The car ride to Windsong is tense and uncomfortable for three main reasons:

1. The starchy white button up and small plaid skirt I’m forced to wear as a part of the uniform. Who designed these? Why are they necessary?

2. The fact that Taehyung is in the backseat with me. I’ve practically flattened myself to the window, but I still can’t get far enough away from him.

3. It is my first day at the most prestigious school in the country. I don’t know anyone. I’m not rich enough for anyone. I don’t know what I’m doing.

 When Taehyung gets out of the car, he’s almost immediately swarmed by nearly every person in the vicinity.

    “‘Sup, Taehyung!” a muscular, blond-haired boy who literally looks like he walked off the cover of GQ Magazine says.

    “Hey, man,” he says, doing that bizarre hand-slap-hug that guys do. “How was your summer?”

“Eh, nothing special. My family went to our place at Martha’s Vineyard. There was nothing to do but sail and eat oysters.”

    I stealthily grab my bag from the car and move as quickly away from this group as possible. Unfortunately, right as I am walking off, a blur of white, plaid, and pink whizzes past me and knocks me to the ground with a shrill, “Taehyung!”

    I look up, groaning. Four gorgeous girls with picture-perfect hair and immaculately done makeup crowd around Taehyung, beaming up at him with fluttering eyelashes. Taehyung’s lips curve up into a cocky smirk.

    “Yasmin. Cloe. Sasha. Jade. Nice to see all of you again.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” the girl on the left giggles, playfully slapping Taehyung’s arm. “We literally saw each other last Saturday!”

“And we will see you four at the party on Friday, right?” a low voice behind me asks. A lean boy with styled brown hair slings an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders.

“Jimin!” the group exclaims. Taehyung fist bumps him.

“Can’t believe the president of the student council himself is gracing us with his presence,” Taehyung drawls. Jimin shoots him a cheeky wink.

Oh, boy. Is that vomit coming up in my throat? I hastily scramble up, intending to hurry away from the scene as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, I accidentally bump into one of the girls.

“Sorry,” I mumble. Taehyung gives me a condescending sneer as I practically run away.

“Who’s that?” I hear a spiteful voice snort from behind me.

my life.

“So you’re a new student, huh?”

I awkwardly trail behind my Windsong-designated “new student buddy”, Tomas Kozlov (“But you can just call me Tom!”). With his sandy blond hair and lanky build, I’d pinned him as another cookie-cutter Windsong rich kid, but his chirpy, “Hey, Jooyeon! Welcome to our school!” offset that impression. Tom’s been tasked with showing me around Windsong and being a friend here (at least until the administration stops paying attention and he can go back to living his own life).

“Yup,” I say, looking around as Windsong students crowd around the largest lockers I have seen, greeting each other and hugging each other and shrieking, Janessa, how was Switzerland?

“Where’re you from?”

“Kansas.”

“No way! I’m from Oklahoma.”

I look at him with raised eyebrows. “Oh, for real? Are you here on a scholarship, too?”

“Yup! I got here freshman year, though.” Tom whistles. “Man, that was really tough. It took me a good two months to get some friends. But don’t worry! I’m here for you!”

I grimace. “That really , dude. Was everyone really stuck up and rude, or...?”

“Well...,” Tom twists his lips to the side. “I mean, Windsong Prep runs from kindergarten to 12th grade. So everyone’s been together since they were really young, and everyone has their own cliques and all. Plus... you know... when you’re some random dude from Oklahoma... it’s not like you have a lot in common with anyone here.”

Damn, I was totally right. I groan, rubbing my temples.

“I knew it was a mistake coming here,” I mutter.

“No way!” Tom shouts enthusiastically, causing everyone around us to give us odd stares. “Windsong’s awesome! Do you know how big this place’s endowment is? I have funding for all the research I could ever want to do!”

I perk up at the word research. “Wait, can I see the science wing?” I ask, but Tom is still babbling on about Windsong.

“-and besides, I didn’t say everyone here was bad. There are some really cool people here. I’ve made some of the best friends ever!”

Suddenly, I hear someone call, “T-Money!”

    Tom whips around, a look of jubilation on his face. I turn with him. A tall Indian boy is swaggering towards us, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. As he walks down the hall, he finger-guns at random people, who greet him with loud, “Hey, Dev!”s.

    “Dev!” Tom hollers, and practically throws himself at the boy.

    “Good morning, bud.” Dev snakes an arm around Tom’s shoulders and then appraises me. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Tom, are you going to introduce me to this beautiful lady, or do I have to ask her name myself?”

    I stare up at him with a look of utter confusion.

    “Jooyeon, this is Dev,” Tom tells me excitedly. “Dev, this is Jooyeon. She’s new here!”

    Dev squints at me for a few moments.

    And then he says, “Nah.”

    I blink. “W-What?”

    “Jooyeon is too long.” He snaps. “You’re Joo. Short, but sweet. Catchy, but playful. Cool? Cool.”

    I am utterly dumbfounded.

    “Joo!” Tom beams. “I like it! It sounds like juice. Orange juice!”

    Dev shakes his head. “No. Pomegranate juice. It’s trendier.”

    “Can you guys get out of the way?” an icy voice asks.

    The three of us turn. A beautiful girl with pin-straight black hair and a stoic expression stares down her nose at us. Tom and Dev break into grins.

    “Lucy!” Dev says, slinging his other arm around her shoulders. “Looking as gorgeous as ever.”

    “Save it, Dev,” she utters. “I’m surprised. You don’t look like you’re on something right now. Congrats.”

    “I should be congratulating you,” Dev responds. “Winning gold at the International Medical Olympiads is no easy feat.”

    “And spending your summer pentesting systems in Silicon Valley is no easy feat either.”

    “My best friends are geniuses,” Tom hums.

    “Really, Mr. I-Taught-Myself-Linear-Algebra-In-A-Week.”

    I swallow. Who are these people? What the hell am I doing here?

    “Wait, guys, we’re scaring Joo!” Tom says, turning to me.

    “Are we really going with Joo?” I mumble.

“Don’t worry, Joo,” Lucy tells me in a detached voice. “We’re able to do these things because Windsong provides us enough funding to pursue whatever we want. No one else really takes advantage of the academia funds, so we have a huge budget.”

“Oh, please, enlighten us, Miss Student Council VP,” Dev says.

“Shut up.”

“So what’re you into, Joo?”

I awkwardly scratch the back of my neck. “U-Uh... I mean, I really like science.”

They look at me in anticipation, awaiting further elaboration.

“I mean... back in Lindsborg... we didn’t really, uh, have the money for research or anything, so...,”

I trail off uncomfortably. The three of them are surprisingly gracious about my lackluster explanation; Lucy gives me a tight nod while Dev and Tom start rambling on about how hard the science section of the entrance exam is and how wow, you must be really smart, Joo! Their whole dynamic kind of reminds me of my friends back home, and I can’t help but crack a smile.

And then I hear someone shriek, “Taehyung!”

 I turn. Taehyung, flanked by a group of attractive, intimidating teenagers, is strolling down the hallway, walking like he owns the place. My fists ball up by my side.

“What a ing ,” I growl.

“Do you know him?” Tom asks, surprised.

“Uh...,” I hesitate for a moment, debating whether or not to tell them the truth. “I... kind of. Not really.”

“Man,” Dev whistles, enviously staring at them stroll by. “Taehyung and his friends are a real piece of work.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “What do you mean?”  

“Their parents basically fund this entire school,” Lucy utters. “The administration and teachers are always on his side. They get everything they want.”

“Forget the administration,” Tom snorts. “Everyone in this place idolizes his group. They’re all on the lacrosse team, they’re all popular, they’re all good-looking, they all have money coming out their ears-,”

“Going up against them is suicide,” Dev says. “They’re... dangerous.”

Taehyung’s words echo in my ears.

From this day on, I will make your life a living hell. No one at Windsong- and I mean no one- will like you. I’ll make you beg your mom to let you go back to whatever hick town you’re from.

.

“Whatever,” I say. “I hate him.”

Lucy, Tom, and Dev exchange pointed looks.

“That makes another one of us,” Lucy says in a wry voice.

Walking into my 1st period Physics class feels like twenty flesh-cutting lasers have been pointed straight at my face.

“You’re late,” a plump, angry-looking woman at the front of the classroom tells me (Mrs. Stone, according to my schedule). There is a diagram- presumably from a physics problem- displayed on a Smartboard behind her.

“Sorry,” I say. “I got lost.”

Giggles rise up from the class. I flush uncomfortably.

“Oh, you think tardiness is a joke.” Mrs. Stone raps on the diagram behind her with a ruler. “How about this, Miss...,”

“Jung.”

“Miss Jung, if you answer this question, I won’t give you detention for the next week.”

I see my classmates exchange amused looks.

“Okay,” I say. “What’s the problem?”

    Mrs. Stone smirks. “A rope rests on two platforms which are both inclined at an angle θ, as shown. The rope has uniform mass density, and its coefficient of friction with the platforms is 1. The system has left-right symmetry. What is the largest possible fraction of the rope that does not touch the platforms?”

    I stare at the diagram. Mrs. Stone’s leer grows wider by the second.

    “Well, if you’ve given up, Miss Jung-,” she begins, but I cut her off.

    “0.172 at 22.5 degrees,” I say. “Where do I sit?”

“So basically, you got sent to the principal’s office for answering a question correctly,” Lucy says.

I sigh, taking a long sip of my orange juice. We are standing in line in the cafeteria, waiting to get lunch. Lindsborg High’s lunch entrees were used for giving people food poisoning and starting food fights. Windsong’s food, on the other hand, looks straight out of a Michelin-starred restaurant.

“At least Principal Paulson said I didn’t have to go to physics anymore,” I remark glumly. “I didn’t think Mrs. Stone would get so pissed, though.”

“Stone’s a ,” Lucy sighs. “You have no idea how many complaints she’s gotten over the years-,”

“Holy , Joo,” Dev says, rushing up to me from the cafeteria entrance. The petite girl who was standing in line behind me protests, “Hey!”

“Sorry, Bianca,” Dev winks. “I promise I’m not in line. Just talkin’ to my friend Joo here. By the way, you, me, Caffe Latte. Pick you up at 5?”

The annoyance has disappeared from Bianca’s face, replaced by a playfully exasperated smile.

“You’re such a flirt, Dev,” she giggles, slapping him on the arm. He gives her another nauseating wink, and then turns back to me.

“You make me want to vomit at least 10 times a day,” Lucy informs Dev in her cool, even voice.

“Aww, don’t worry, Luce. You’re still the #1 girl in my heart. Although Joo’s threatening to overtake that position with the stunt she pulled today.”

“It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” I sigh. “I literally just solved a physics problem.”

    “Yeah, you solved one of Harvard’s infamous ‘Problems of the Week’ in three minutes. You haven’t even taken physics yet.”

“I studied it on my own! That problem wasn’t super complicated or anything-,”

“Mrs. Stone put that up on the board as an example of what students could someday do with physics! No one was supposed to solve that problem! It was just an example!”

I pause from spooning spaghetti sauce onto my pasta to give Dev an indignant look.

“She said if I didn’t solve it, I’d get a week’s worth of detention. So she was setting me up to fail?”

Lucy wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, that’s just Mrs. Stone being a .”

“Oh, I bet Tom wet himself when he heard about this,” Dev cackles. “He’s going to talk math with you nonstop from now on.”

I wearily add another breadstick to my tray. “How many people know about this?”

“Mostly just people in our grade. I mean, people will forget about this. This kind of stuff gets dismissed as normal scholarship student things. It’s not very interesting.”

“That’s... good, I guess.” After Lucy and I pay for our food, the three of us walk to the front of the cafeteria, searching for an empty table to sit at.

“That’s the benefit of not being high up in Windsong’s social hierarchy,” Lucy says. “Even though you generally get looked down on, people don’t really gossip about you.”

“Hey, speak for yourself!” Dev says. “I’m pretty popular around these parts.”

“Being a player doesn’t mean you’re popular.”

“I’m still well-liked. Hey, I could get any girl’s digits here.”

I chuckle. “Oh, man. Dev, you should-,”

The next thing I know, my tray has been knocked out of my hands. Spaghetti and pasta sauce go flying all over my shirt, staining the white fabric with ugly red splotches. I jerk back in shock, but something catches my ankle and I fall to the floor, landing in a puddle of spilled food. I look up in shock.

What I see in front of me makes my stomach churn in fury.

Taehyung is standing above me, snickering. Surrounding him are a group of his friends. They are all looking down at me with amused expressions.

“What’s your problem?” Taehyung drawls. “Why did you get in my way?”

I simply stare up at him in utter disbelief. My lack of a response pleases him even more; he bends down, lowers his head so that his face is right in front of mine.

“Don’t do it again,” he murmurs, a malevolent glint in his eyes.

A/N: i made smores cookise and hella food today ugh i need to start eating healthy....

oh and like also yeah so this story is gonna be split into arcs and this first arc might be a little.... dry and expositioney?? but yea hopefully itll be interestin heh