Lexi Harper stood in the middle of her new bedroom, staring at the plain, violet-colored walls that practically screamed temporary. The room was small, barely big enough for her bed and a secondhand dresser. A single window overlooked the street, where a flickering streetlamp cast eerie shadows across the peeling paint of the neighboring houses. The air smelled faintly of dust and cheap cleaning supplies, a far cry from the lavender-scented candles her mother used to light in their Upper East Side penthouse.


    Her designer suitcase sat in the corner, the glossy leather already scuffed from the Greyhound ride. With a sigh, she unzipped it and began pulling out her clothes—soft cashmere sweaters, silk blouses, and jeans that cost more than most people’s rent. She hung them neatly in the tiny closet, their crisp lines and rich fabrics looking painfully out of place against the flimsy wire hangers.


    The act of unpacking felt like a betrayal, like she was admitting that this place might actually be her home. She wanted to cry, to scream, to demand her old life back. But what good would it do? No amount of tears or tantrums would bring back the penthouse, the designer handbags, or the friends who had stopped returning her calls the moment the Harpers’ scandal made headlines.


    Lexi sank onto the bed, her hands gripping the edge of the mattress. She thought about Serena, her former best friend, who used to text her constantly about weekend plans and boys. Now, Serena’s social media posts were filled with pictures of pool parties and rooftop brunches—events Lexi had once been the centerpiece of but was no longer invited to.


    Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, jolting her from her thoughts. She grabbed it eagerly, hoping for a message from one of her old friends. Instead, it was a notification from her mother’s new group chat titled “Harper Family Updates.”


    “Don’t forget—first day at Southside High tomorrow!” Vanessa had typed, followed by three cheerful emojis.


    Lexi groaned and tossed the phone onto the bed. Southside High. Even the name sounded dreadful. She could already imagine the cafeteria filled with plastic trays and bad lighting, the classrooms with outdated textbooks and flickering fluorescent lights.


    Her stomach churned at the thought of walking into a school where she knew no one, where her perfectly curated New York wardrobe would stick out like a sore thumb. For the first time in her life, Lexi Harper wasn’t sure how to make people like her.


    She lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily overhead. Tomorrow felt like a bad dream she couldn’t wake up from.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Across the hall, Jordan was having a battle of his own. His new room was slightly bigger than Lexi’s but just as unremarkable—a beige box with a narrow closet and a scuffed wooden floor. A single lamp cast a dim glow over the room, highlighting the stacks of books and magazines he had yet to unpack.


    Jordan sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the cracked screen of his phone. His fingers hovered over Sophie’s number, his thumb brushing against the call button. They hadn’t spoken in weeks, not since the rumors about his family had spread through their old school like wildfire.


    He could still remember the pity in Sophie’s eyes when she’d last seen him—the way she’d hesitated before saying, “I think we should take a break.” She’d claimed it wasn’t because of the scandal, but Jordan wasn’t naive. He knew her parents had probably forbidden her from seeing him, worried that his family’s disgrace might tarnish their own reputation.


    With a frustrated sigh, he tossed the phone onto the bed and stood up. He began unpacking his duffle bag, pulling out a mix of clothes, sneakers, and a few framed photos. One photo caught his eye: a picture of him and Lexi at a gala from two years ago. They were dressed to the nines—him in a tailored tuxedo, her in a sparkling silver gown. Their smiles were bright, their world still intact.


    He set the photo on the nightstand and turned to the window. Pulling back the curtain, he gazed out at the street below. A group of teenagers was gathered near the corner, laughing and shouting as they passed around a basketball. Their clothes were a mix of streetwear and athletic gear, their voices carrying easily in the humid night air.


    Jordan felt a pang of unease. These kids weren’t like the ones he’d grown up with—the polished prep school crowd who drove Teslas and wore blazers with their school crests. He didn’t know how to relate to them, didn’t know if he even wanted to.


    Southside High loomed in his mind like a storm cloud. He’d Googled the school earlier, scrolling through grainy photos of graffiti-covered lockers and a football team that hadn’t won a game in years. He wasn’t sure where he’d fit in—or if he’d fit in at all.


    His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.


    “Come in,” he called, expecting Lexi.


    Instead, their father stepped into the room, his expression unreadable.


    “You settling in?” Alexander asked, his voice awkward, as if he wasn’t sure what to say.


    Jordan shrugged. “It’s fine, I guess.”


    Alexander hesitated before sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I know this isn’t easy for you. For any of us.”


    Jordan crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “You think?”


    Alexander winced at the sharpness in his son’s tone but didn’t argue. “I’m not proud of how things turned out, Jordan. But I’m trying to make things right.”


    Jordan looked away, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before you lost everything.”


    The words hung in the air, heavy and unforgiving. Alexander nodded slowly, accepting the rebuke.


    “I deserve that,” he said quietly. “But I want you to know I’m proud of you. Of both of you. You’re handling this better than I ever could have.”


    Jordan didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure he believed him.


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