Chapter 1 A “ Welcome Made of knives”
The letter smelled like paper and possibility.
Safina Cerezo found it tucked between the electric bill and a flyer for discounted rice, half-crushed in their mailbox that never really locked. The envelope was thick. Too thick for a bill. The seal at the back was gold, pressed with two crossed laurel branches and a tower.
_Sta. Maria University._
Her hands started shaking before she even opened it.
“Mama!” she called, already running to the kitchen where her mother was scraping the last of last night’s sardines into a pan. “Mama, it came!”
Her mother turned, wiping hands on a faded apron. “What came, anak?”
Safina ripped it open with her thumb. Her eyes scanned fast, then slower, then again, like she didn’t trust English to stay still on the page.
_Dear Ms. Safina Cerezo,_
_On behalf of the Board and Faculty of Sta. Maria University, it is with great pleasure that we offer you a Full Academic Scholarship..._
_In recognition of your standing as Valedictorian..._
_Tuition, dormitory, uniform, and book allowance are fully covered..._
She read it out loud. Her voice cracked on “fully covered.”
Her mama dropped the spatula. For a second neither of them spoke. Then her mama pulled her into a hug that smelled like cooking oil and joy.
“Valedictorian,” her mama whispered into her hair. “My valedictorian.”
Sta. Maria University was not for people like them. Everyone in their barangay knew that. It was the school with the fountain out front bigger than their whole street. The school where students arrived in cars with drivers who opened the doors. The school where last names were on buildings.
No poor person got in. That was the rule no one wrote down.
But Safina had.
She’d studied under a single bulb at night. She’d borrowed books from the public library and copied notes by hand. She’d taken every free academic exam, every contest, every chance. And she won.
This was her way out. For her, for her brother, for her mama who worked double shifts.
She folded the letter carefully and put it back in the envelope. She would laminate it later. Maybe frame it.
*Two Weeks Later*
The gates of Sta. Maria University were not gates. They were a statement.
Black iron, 12 feet high, with the school crest cast in gold at the center. Behind them: manicured lawns, buildings that looked like museums, and students who looked like they’d stepped out of magazines.
Safina stood at the entrance with one duffel bag and a scholarship packet clutched to her chest. Her uniform was new, but she could tell. The stitching was simpler. The fabric was thinner. She’d saved for three months to get it tailored to fit right.
She took a breath and stepped forward.
That’s when she saw them.
About twenty students. Standing in a loose circle near the fountain. All in perfect Sta. Maria blazers. All looking at her.
She’d expected this, a little. New students get stared at. But this wasn’t curiosity.
A girl with curled hair and diamond studs broke from the group. Her blazer had a crest pin that looked real gold.
“Oh,” the girl said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “You must be her.”
Safina blinked. “Her?”
“The scholarship kid.” The girl smiled. It was the kind of smile you give before you push someone. “The valedictorian. Safina Cerezo, right?”
Safina’s stomach dropped. She hadn’t told anyone her name yet. The orientation packets weren’t even handed out.
“How did you—”
“How did we know?” Another voice. A boy this time, leaning against the fountain with his arms crossed. Expensive watch. Haircut that cost more than her monthly groceries. “Please. The whole school’s been talking about it for two weeks. ‘Sta. Maria lets in a charity case.’ It’s all over the group chats.”
More laughter. Phones were already out.
Safina felt heat crawl up her neck. “I earned the scholarship. I was valedictorian.”
“Yeah, at _Public High 9_,” the curly-haired girl said, dragging out the name like it tasted bad. “We looked you up. Your mom works at the market, right? And your dad drives a jeepney? Very inspiring.”
Safina froze.
How did they know that? The scholarship application asked for academic records. Not her parents’ jobs. Not their income. She’d left those sections blank because Sta. Maria said scholarships were merit-based.
Someone in the back muttered, “No poor people here.”
The words landed like a slap.
“I’m not here to take anything from anyone,” Safina said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I got in because of my grades.”
“Grades,” the boy by the fountain scoffed. “Right. And we’re here because we wanted to give you a proper Sta. Maria welcome.”
The circle tightened a little.
Safina looked past them, searching for a teacher, a guard, anyone. But the adults were all inside, and the students on the edges were just watching. Recording.
“Welcome?” she asked, confused. “To what?”
“To reality,” Curly Hair said. “See, Sta. Maria has traditions. And one of them is... we take care of our own. People who don’t belong, well. We help them realize that.”
She stepped closer. Her perfume was expensive. It made Safina’s eyes water.
“You see, scholarship girl, this place is for legacies. For people who built this school. Not for people who got in because the dean wanted a photo op for the brochure. ‘Diversity.’” She said the word like it was an insult.
Safina’s grip tightened on her packet. “So this is bullying.”
The girl laughed. “Bullying? No. This is a welcome. We’re just being friendly.”
From the back of the group, someone finally moved.
He hadn’t spoken until now. He’d been standing slightly apart, hands in the pockets of his blazer, face unreadable. Tall. Dark hair that fell over his forehead. The Yang crest on his pocket was embroidered in silver thread.
Jin Yang.
Even the other bullies shifted when he moved. Not out of respect. Out of space. Like they didn’t want to be too close.
He looked at Safina. Really looked at her, for the first time. His eyes were gray, and tired in a way that didn’t match his age.
For a second, Safina thought maybe he would say something. Stop this.
Instead he just stared. Then his jaw tightened and he looked down at the ground.
“Jin,” Curly Hair said, softer now. “You don’t have to watch this if you don’t want to.”
He didn’t answer.
“Right,” she said, turning back to Safina with her smile back in place. “Anyway. Welcome to Sta. Maria, Safina. We have so many activities planned for you.”
“What kind of activities?” Safina asked, though her gut already knew.
“Oh, you know. The usual. Getting to know you. Testing your... durability.” She reached out like she was going to pat Safina’s shoulder.
Safina flinched back on instinct.
The girl’s hand stopped mid-air. Her smile faltered for half a second.
“You’re jumpy,” she said. “That’s good. You’ll need to be.”
A phone camera flashed.
Safina understood then, in a cold, sinking way. This wasn’t random. They’d planned this. The moment she walked through the gates. They knew her name, her background, her address probably. Someone had dug her up and served her on a plate.
And the worst part? She didn’t know why.
Yes, she was poor. Yes, she was on scholarship. But there had been scholarship students before, hadn’t there? Not many, but some. Why was she the one getting a “welcome”?
Unless it wasn’t about the scholarship.
Unless it was about her being valedictorian. About taking a spot someone else’s child wanted.
Unless it was just because they could.
“Leave me alone,” Safina said quietly.
“Or what?” the boy by the fountain said. “You gonna report us? To who? My dad funds the new science wing.”
More laughter.
Jin finally spoke, so quietly Safina almost missed it. “Enough.”
Everyone turned to him.
Curly Hair’s expression shifted. “Jin, it’s fine. We’re just—”
“I said enough.” His voice wasn’t loud. But it cut through everything.
For a moment, the courtyard went silent.
Jin looked at Safina again. And in his eyes she saw something she didn’t expect: not cruelty. Not amusement.
Pity. And fear.
He looked away first. “Let her go,” he said. “Orientation starts in ten.”
Curly Hair stared at him, then at Safina, then back at him. Whatever she saw in Jin’s face made her decide not to push it.
“Fine,” she said, tossing her hair. “We’ll continue this later, scholarship girl. Welcome to Sta. Maria.”
The circle broke apart. Students drifted away, still filming, still whispering.
_Scholarship girl. Charity case. Did you see her face?_
Safina stood there, heart pounding, as the fountain kept running behind her.
Jin was already walking away.
“Wait,” Safina called after him before she could stop herself.
He paused, but didn’t turn around.
“Why did you do that?” she asked.
A long pause.
“Because it was going to get worse,” he said, without looking back. “And I’m tired of watching.”
Then he disappeared into the crowd of blazers and gold crests.
Safina was left alone in front of the fountain, with her scholarship packet and twenty phones that probably already had her face online.
She had come to Sta. Maria to change her life.
She didn’t know that on day one, the school had already decided what her life was going to be: a target.
And she didn’t know that the only person who’d spoken up for her was Jin Yang.
The boy whose last name was on half the buildings.
The boy who looked at her like he knew exactly how it felt to be cursed.
The first bell rang.
Safina wiped her face, straightened her uniform, and walked through the gates.
The “welcome” was over.
The war was just starting.
