Chapter 1: The Loudest Cheer

Mina’s POV

The asphalt outside the bus stop was cracked like a spiderweb, tiny jagged lines splintering off into nowhere. I stared at them as I walked, counting the breaks like they might spell out some message. They didn’t, of course. Just another broken thing. Another metaphor for my life. Not completely ruined — but rough, uneven, threatening to split open at any moment.

The school gate loomed ahead, all steel bars and gray paint, more like the entrance to a prison than a “new beginning.” My stomach had already knotted itself into something small and mean, and it was only 8:00 AM. Another new school. Another new hall of strangers who would size me up, decide I was weird, and quietly exile me to the cafeteria’s forgotten corner. I’d been through this five times already. There was a rhythm to it. A script.

I’d learned to roll my eyes without moving my face. That was my secret skill: silent drama. When you don’t have anyone to vent to except your reflection or your sister, you become a master at internal theatrics.

Cara.

Cara was why I was even here, dragging my shoes over cracked pavement toward this inevitable disaster. She was also why I was still alive. My sister had been the general of this endless march — loud, dramatic, unstoppable. She infuriated me, but her love had the kind of weight and heat that could burn down a building. If our parents had stayed, maybe I’d have a normal life. But then I wouldn’t have Cara. And that silence would have been worse.

“HEY! MINA! LOOK AT YOU, YOU BRAIN SURGEON!”

The sound hit me like a sonic boom. My shoulders hunched before I even turned around. Everyone on the street swiveled to look, of course.

There she was. Cara, in a red jacket bright enough to flag down a plane, arms waving like she was trying to signal the entire zip code. Her grin said: I dare you to talk smack about my sister.

“It’s a school, Cara,” I mumbled, walking faster. “Not a graduation ceremony.”

“Details, details!” She clapped me on the shoulder — hard enough to make me stumble — and launched into one of her pep talks. “You walk in there and you OWN it! You’re gonna ace those tests. Show them who they’re messing with!”

“Sure,” I muttered under my breath. “I’ll ‘own it’ right into the quietest corner of the cafeteria.”

She was already yelling a friendly threat at some honking driver as I adjusted my backpack and pushed through the school doors. The noise hit me like a wave — slamming lockers, overlapping voices, shoes squeaking on tile. My heartbeat matched the chaos, fast and uneven.

Don’t look up. Don’t stand out. Just find the first class. Rule Number One.

I stared at the scuffed linoleum like it was a lifeline, holding my schedule like a shield even though I already knew where I was going. Invisibility was safer. No one can hurt you if you don’t exist.

I reached the end of the hall outside my History class — and looked up.

He was standing there. Leaning against the far wall, like he’d been waiting for something no one else could see. Thin, dressed in dark clothes that swallowed the light. He wasn’t looking at anyone. He was just… there.

And the moment I saw him, the noise of the school dropped out. Gone. Like someone had hit mute.

It wasn’t just that he looked strange. It was the feeling — a splinter of memory jabbing behind my eyes. Familiar. Impossible. Like a song I almost knew the words to but couldn’t place.

I know you.

The thought was instantaneous, absurd. He was a stranger. I’d never seen him before.

But when his eyes finally lifted and met mine, the certainty didn’t fade. It deepened, curling tight and cold around my ribs.

His gaze was dark. Heavy. Older than his face. He didn’t smile, didn’t nod, just… stared. And in that moment, a word — not a question, not a thought — pressed itself into my mind.

Luchus.

I didn’t know why. I didn’t know how. But I knew one thing:

This boy was the most important, most dangerous thing in my quiet, predictable world.

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