A cold lamp cast its light on my reflection in the mirror of the school restroom. I stood still, frozen like a statue, my palms pressed against the cold porcelain sink. I scanned the familiar lines of my face and figure, searching for anything attractive, but was there really anything beautiful in that plain appearance? When I looked at myself, the first things that stood out were the dark circles under my eyes, so sharply outlined against pale skin, a couple of red blemishes that weren't there last night, and, of course, those stubborn chestnut hairs.

"I feel absolutely disgusting," I muttered, letting out a heavy sigh and closing my eyes for a moment to look away from the unpleasant sight before me. All I wanted at that moment was to clench my fist and smash the glass mercilessly — the same glass that deceived me day after day, like all the other mirrors out there. This can't be me — this has to be some other girl! That's what I told myself, but once again, it didn't work.

"Aurora!.. I—I didn't realize you were already here."

A familiar voice pulled me out of my trance, making me slowly step back from the sink. My gaze, still as judging as before, shifted from my reflection to my classmate Lia: her stiff, wire-like red hair, a face covered in freckles like confetti, and that simple, wide smile. She stood in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot impatiently as the new school day began. The sight brought a faint, mocking smile to my lips — at least one of us was in a good mood today.

"Yeah, I try to come early, you know... to freshen up before class starts."

I answered, giving a casual shrug to seem relaxed. My hand gripped the strap of my blue backpack as I headed for the door, joining Lia in the school corridor. The first lesson was about to start any minute now. I'd be lying if I said math was my favorite subject — I'd always leaned towards the humanities: literature, foreign languages, and everything that didn't involve numbers or an endless stream of formulas I could never remember. But now I was rushing down the crowded hallway like my life depended on it, with Lia eagerly following toward the classroom. If I'm late—there will definitely be trouble. The math teacher is the strictest one here. Sometimes when she fixes someone with her scorching stare, it feels like she could suck out their soul or swallow her unlucky victim whole, like a python.

Luck was with me — we walked into the classroom just a minute before the bell rang. At the start of the year, I had picked the best seat — an unremarkable desk at the back of the middle row, which made me invisible both to teachers and classmates. It was easier that way: no answering at the board, no remarks, no giving attention. My spot saved me from a lot of trouble, but some things couldn't be avoided — like today's test, which, it seemed, had been erased from my memory as something utterly irrelevant.

"Ha... Damn! I'm so not ready."

That was the first and only thing I said, staring at the paper with a sour expression, as if it were a slice of lemon daring me to bite into it whole. The older I got, the fewer numbers appeared in the problems. This time, what I saw looked more like a bunch of random symbols from a language I didn't know than a math problem. My despair was interrupted by a muffled giggle from the desk next to me. It was Lia, enjoying the show. No surprise — she finished her test in less than ten minutes. She got into this school because of her high grades, after all.

"Give me your notebook, I'll help you figure it out."

Lia whispered, leaning in with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, and before I could say anything, she deftly grabbed my notebook from the desk. I didn't mind — I knew she'd handle it better than me. All I had to do was play along, putting on a thoughtful look while my scowl stayed fixed on my empty desk. One of the few things I was actually good at was convincing the math teacher that I understood the subject, that the formulas were inside my head and not just empty wind.

Only two months had passed since the school year began, and by now, we had pulled this trick more than once. It was a fair partnership: Lia helped me with math, and I kept her company, playing the friend she needed after getting into this place. Maybe it would be easier if this school were ordinary, like many others across the country, but it wasn't. I called this place the "School for privileged kids," though its real name sounded far more pompous than my dismissive label. Top-notch teachers, fancy interior, spacious classrooms fully equipped for lessons. And the students matched the pedigree — heirs to famous names: politicians' kids, business tycoons' children, even celebrities' offspring. Occasionally, the doors opened for those outside the elite — talented athletes, artists, or scholars like Lia. As for me... I'd like to say I have some special skill or that I'm heir to a gold mine owned by my family, but that wouldn't be true. It's both simpler and more complicated — I'm part of the tiny percent who got into this school by chance, thanks to luck and my mother's connections — a talented lawyer whose client is part of the school administration. I don't know what magic words she used, but I've been here for two months now, despite all my protests and requests to transfer back to an ordinary high school. But has my opinion ever mattered?

I drifted into my thoughts, not even noticing that the lesson had ended. Even that annoying bell didn't sound so bad when it announced the end and not the start of class. I glanced around absentmindedly, watching classmates get up one by one, heading to the teacher's desk with white sheets in their hands. "Test!" — that dreadful word echoed in my mind, making my eyes widen in panic. But when I looked down, the sheet and the notebook were already on my desk.

"Thanks, Lia."

I whispered, feeling relief wash over me. I watched as Lia smoothly got up with a satisfied smile on her face. She said nothing, only flashed her metal braces as her lips spread into that usual wide grin. An unspoken "you're welcome," no doubt.

I hurriedly packed my things into my backpack and followed the others out of the classroom, tossing the finished test onto the teacher's desk. That was it — no more math for today! A small reason to be glad, but I learned to be content with little; after all, the worst part of the day was behind me.

The next two lessons went much calmer than the last: the phenomenon of the Egyptian pyramids in history, and a study of the opera "Jesus Christ Superstar" in arts class. Yes, such an opera exists. A couple of brave classmates gave in to the teacher's urging and even tried hitting some high notes, but all they managed was to deafen the students sitting close to them — including me.

"Ha... You know, I'd bet their singing was way more deadly than the sirens' song that lured sailors to their doom."

I muttered, annoyed, snapping my fingers at my earlobe to check my hearing, while my other hand adjusted the strap of my hated backpack to stop it from slipping onto the dusty marble floor.

"Look here! I wouldn't be surprised if a little stream of blood dripped from my ear right now!"

I added, showing Lia my ear, and my face grew even sourer and more outraged than before.

Instead of sympathy, I only heard her familiar light giggle. She glanced where I pointed out of politeness, but, of course, there was no blood.

"Don't be so dramatic, Aurora! Besides... I think it was hilarious. Who'd have thought we had such talented guys in our class, huh?"

Lia said with a smile, casually shrugging as we neared the school cafeteria. Once inside, we were greeted by that familiar sight: the same marble floors running through the building. Dreary corporate black-and-gray tones, as if this was not a school but a banquet hall in some business center. A majestic golden crest hung on one wall — another reminder of the place's status. High ceilings, big panoramic windows, yet despite the openness, I felt a crushing tightness — as if the space was closing in on me, like I was back on stage.

It was hard to breathe. Maybe it was the smell? The stewed vegetables that dominated the air. A peculiar, stomach-twisting scent familiar to anyone who's spent countless days on grueling diets. Or maybe it was the number of judging looks — I felt them like physical touches.

If I were modeling for some brand's catalog, it would definitely be mass-market: an unremarkable blue fabric backpack that rustled with every step; a plain gray sweatshirt with worn cuffs; my favorite blue jeans — the only piece in my wardrobe that gave my hips some decent shape. On my feet — black textile sneakers. And a cheap but reliable watch on my wrist — a gift from my father, a reminder of a man I rarely see because of his endless business trips. Nothing unusual, right? Pretty normal clothes for an average teenager. Yes. And I wouldn't have thought about the price of my outfit if I were among those, like me, from a middle-class background, but here in this school... everything was different.

"Look! Look here!"

An unfamiliar female voice rang out from one of the tables. Though the girl was talking to her friend, who sipped coffee indifferently, the tone made me turn around too.

"See?! What do you think? This dress was made just for me! Under the strict supervision of the fashion house's rep! It's one of a kind."

The excited voice went on, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. Her fragile figure twirled, trying to show her friend the work of art draped over her skin. Classic red-and-blue British plaid, a modern cut that emphasized every curve. And, of course, the embroidered logo of the fashion house that made the dress. At first glance — unremarkable, but screaming about its likely price.

"Why is that dress so short? If it was custom-made, she could have chosen a length that at least covers her butt when she bends over. What she ended up with looks... vulgar."

I muttered, my teeth clenched in irritation or maybe envy. I don't know if I said it to Lia or to myself, but I made sure my complaint stayed quiet, then quickly looked away from the scene to pick something from the cafeteria menu.

"Hmm..."

Lia said thoughtfully, methodically piling food on her tray, her open gaze still studying the girl. She didn't even try to hide her curiosity.

"You know... I still don't get why this school doesn't have a uniform. Isn't that a thing in schools like this? I think it actually looks pretty good..."

Lia asked, finishing arranging the plates on her plastic tray, then looked at me with that familiar innocence. Silly girl. Does she really understand nothing? Even if all the students wore the same uniform, social status isn't something matching clothes can hide. Shoes, bags, jewelry, and the simplest thing — the car your daddy drove you in. There's always something that screams your social rank louder than you ever could. Even though Lia wore a skirt and vest ordered at the start of the year from the school's atelier, the cheap brown faux-leather shoes gave away her caste.

"Before they placed me here, Mom also asked the administration about uniforms. As far as I know, mandatory uniforms get introduced and repealed every year... It depends on the parent committee. If we had to wear uniforms, how would the students show off their designer clothes, haha?"

I replied with feigned indifference and a wry smile, gripping my tray, empty despite the abundance of food on the counter. Mentioning my mother brought back something she'd said this morning as I put on my jeans to head out: "Aurora... Are you okay? Looks like you've put on some weight. Look at how hard it is to button your favorite jeans! Not long ago they were perfect." Her voice echoed in my head, making me purse my lips and shake my head slightly, as if refusing the food before me. It hurt.

"I don't think I'm hungry today."

I said flatly, attempting a soft smile, then stepped away from the counter to make room for others and headed with Lia to our usual corner table. But the sound of familiar footsteps made me stop before we reached the wooden bench. I knew that sound, even among hundreds in the room. It was him. Even before I saw the silhouette, I already knew. My palms grew sweaty, my breath caught. I looked toward the entrance, my lips parting involuntarily in anticipation. I was right.

This cold, gloomy autumn, I had waited so long for the warm, bright sun to return. But when I saw it again, I realized the sun was no longer just a celestial body — it was here, in this building. Instead of remaining a distant star in the sky, my sun took on a very earthly form: those short, wax-styled blond hairs shimmering like gold under the cafeteria lights. At first glance, his hair looked slightly messy, as if no more than half an hour had passed since he got out of bed, yet even in this seemingly chaotic arrangement, every strand was exactly where it was meant to be. I noticed his bright blue eyes, like the open sky, scanning the room in search of familiar faces. Almost instantly, the rhythm of his footsteps resumed. Despite the crisp classic suit, his walk remained as free and confident as always.

In my life, I had seen many people in suits: teachers, bankers, my mother's colleagues, and countless others whose faces faded from my memory, but none looked as... refined and harmonious in clothing as he did — clothes that seemed made more for formal meetings or high society events than dull, everyday life.

I sank smoothly onto the bench, trying to find some support, while my legs felt like lead, refusing to obey me. Each slow step brought him closer to our table where Lia and I sat. My heart pounded so fast I thought it might burst free from my chest at any moment. I struggled to keep a calm expression, so I simply cast my eyes to the floor, frowning as I studied the marble tiles' seams and patterns as if I were one of the craftsmen who laid them.

Not a minute passed before his fingertips casually traced the edge of our table, and though I refused to look up, that fleeting touch did not go unnoticed, betraying me with a faint blush on my cheeks. It was foolish to hope he would join us. In fact, even a tiny chance of him sitting next to me set off a panic attack. As expected, he simply walked past, leaving behind a barely noticeable trail of woody perfume in the air — and a swirl of conflicting feelings inside me: a mix of relief and mild disappointment. Our table was nothing more than a small obstacle on his way to his usual seat.

I exhaled, regaining control of my body, then leaned back on the bench, meeting Lia's calm gaze. She ate casually, gathering strength for the rest of the school day. She looked peaceful, almost serene — a complete opposite of how I felt inside, as if a real tsunami had erupted within me, destroying everything in its path.

When the sound of footsteps finally faded somewhere behind me, I allowed myself to look back — just for a brief moment — and in that moment, I made a big mistake. I hoped to see his back, but instead our eyes met. No. That shouldn't have happened. I thought he would turn away indifferently, but it seemed he had other thoughts. His searching blue eyes slid down my face and, noticing the pink flush on my cheeks, he gave me a bright, charming smile and... winked? Did I really see that? Or did something get in his eye? Maybe the bright lamp above his head blinded him just as our eyes locked. I refused to believe what I saw. It was easier to invent some ridiculous excuse than to entertain the hope of something more — something that would remain forever unreachable in the deepest corners of my heart. He was always... so close, yet so far at the same time. When I walked just steps away from him down the school corridor, it seemed I only had to reach out to touch the fabric of his jacket, but I would never dare do anything like that. A huge chasm separated us; I wasn't blind or naive enough to ignore that fact.

"Pull yourself together, Aurora! God, you're pathetic," my own voice rang inside my head, urging me to get it together. But despite my reason's arguments, I just blushed even more and bashfully looked away, covering my face with my hand.

"Ha... Just kill me now."

I muttered indistinctly, shaking my head and sighing heavily, replaying the scene in my mind again and again. More than anything, I wanted to disappear, to vanish into thin air like an illusionist or like the traces of his cologne.

"Why don't you just go up to him and say... 'Hi'? You live so close to each other! You could... well, I don't know... Offer to help mow the lawn or maybe water the plants. I think he's a good guy and wouldn't push you away if you took that step!"

Lia said, interrupting my unplanned emotional turmoil. I focused on the sound of her crunching yet another carrot stick — and as ridiculous as it seemed, diverting my attention helped me shake off that state. She was so loud, I wondered if she did it on purpose or if she was just so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't even notice the noise she made.

"How do you imagine that would go, Lia? First, I'd have to dress like a gardener, then show up at his family's place with a lawnmower in hand and simply offer my services? The only response I'd get from such a stunt would be the butler's condescending smile and, if I'm lucky, a crumpled bill in my pocket as a bribe for the 'poor' girl who needs work."

I replied, raising an eyebrow before delivering a sarcastic, joyless smile as I pictured the scene. Lia found it hard to understand me; she had never seen their property or their home, for her it was just an abstract "rich folks' house" across the street from where I live. But my situation was different. Often, on my way to school, I unwittingly witnessed what went on where Kai lived: the expensive, luxurious cars leaving their driveway and the chaos caused by the people working for his family. An untrimmed lawn, plants not watered — I could picture that anywhere else, but never there. I knew what Lia meant by offering help as a pretext, a chance to close the distance between us. But I... just can't do it. Not now. Do I even have the right when all I want when I look in the mirror is to smash it to pieces? To run away, turn off the light — anything but look.

Maybe someday, when I get myself together again; lose a few pounds, buy the right clothes, and learn how to do makeup properly — I'll have at least some chance to talk to him, maybe at a random party or perhaps my graduation ball? I don't know when or if it will happen, but when I see him, I can easily imagine an angelic beauty standing by his side, someone just as attractive as he is. And I simply cannot picture myself next to him.

"Ah... What an honor, Kai. Look who's decided to grace us with his presence after a whole week of absence..."

The velvety male voice spoke lazily as he set aside his pencil and sheet of paper to greet his friend. My gaze remained fixed on Lia, but instead of continuing to eat her lunch, she simply froze in place, as if struck by an electric shock. What the hell? I skeptically raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out what was going on, then slowly turned my head toward the source of the sound. This time, I managed to avoid Kai's gaze: all I saw was his back as he sat down on the familiar bench. It seemed God had answered my prayers.

But there was someone else besides Kai: black hair slicked back with gel, shaved sides. A silver piercing adorned his lower lip, drawing attention to his sly, self-satisfied smile. And of course, he was dressed entirely in black—a leather jacket, a basic T-shirt, worn jeans. At the moment he reached out to pat Kai on the shoulder, my eyes narrowed. I noticed some strange dark gray patterns on his wrist, but before I could get a better look, his hand smoothly slipped under the wooden tabletop. What was that? A tattoo? I thought tattoos were strictly forbidden at this school. Besides, I highly doubted anyone in this town would agree to tattoo a minor—the money a tattoo artist would earn wouldn't be worth the headache of angry calls from parents screaming about the ruined skin of their 'precious' child. Well, it's Felix. Apparently, besides creating artworks on paper, he decided to make his own body an art piece. So he's the reason Lia is behaving like this? The 'good' girl and the 'bad' boy. In a way, it's almost funny. So cliché.

"You're utterly ruthless, you know that? Your reaction to my appearance is breaking my heart. I didn't even tell you I was coming back to town—I wanted to surprise you. So why not just say you missed me, hmm?"

Kai said, matching Felix's sly smile with his own, then brazenly grabbed the sheet of paper from the table, curiously examining his friend's latest creation. But instead of getting angry at this rude behavior, Felix didn't seem bothered at all—he reacted as if Kai's antics were perfectly normal. A drawing is something very personal, isn't it? Apparently, they really are quite close.

"I missed you."

Felix replied, folding his arms across his chest. Part of this short phrase was sincere and warm, but the smirk on his face clearly showed the other half was dripping with sarcasm. And one could understand that—after all, Kai had begged for that confession himself.

"So, maybe you'll reveal what you've been up to all these days? I'll allow you to be honest. You know... if you say you were just dead tired after two months of school and decided to take an unplanned break—I'd easily believe you."

Felix continued ironically, glancing at Kai as he twirled his drawing in his hands, examining it from different angles—like a child. But instead of another flippant answer, Kai said something completely different.

"You're wrong, I wasn't resting this whole time."

Kai said, slowly returning the sheet of paper to its owner. The smile on his lips lost all traces of previous smugness, replaced by something more thoughtful, reflecting the exhaustion he was trying so hard to hide when confidently entering the cafeteria. I had never seen him like that before. For some reason, at that moment, I felt like I was doing something wrong, like I was witnessing something I shouldn't. No one accused me of anything, but I wanted to justify myself and say I wasn't eavesdropping. No, they were just talking too loudly.

"Business. Contracts. This time the potential investors were from Spain, so I had to take the first flight there. Graduation exams are coming up in a few months—my father is gradually bringing me up to speed; by the end of the year, I'm expected to take a seat on the board. I need to be ready."

Kai explained, casually shrugging, then reached out to steal another thing—but this time not the paper, but his friend's coffee. Things could have gone smoothly, but before his fingers could grasp the cup, Felix caught Kai's wrist with his hand. He didn't say a word, just silently stared at his friend's palm, and with every second, his face darkened like a thundercloud. There it was. It seemed he was really angry at such audacity— even the most patient person's patience can wear thin. I braced for a storm, but instead of curses and shouting, Felix merely shifted his gaze from Kai's palm to his face, looking at him with a questioning expression I barely understood.

"You... you noticed it after all? Don't look at me like that over some scratch, Felix!"

Kai said sharply, jerking his hand free from Felix's grip, then let out a short, strained laugh. Such a strange reaction. It looked... fake.

"I was at the beach, alright? Besides business meetings, I had a chance to see the city and different places. At the beach, I met one of the local beauties. There was no time for long social events, so I had to act more decisively than usual. At first, things were good—she smiled and flirted with me, but the moment I wrapped my arm around her waist, she slapped me and left a scratch on my palm with her long nails! Can you imagine that, haha? It's wild! After a few days, the slap mark on my cheek faded, but the scratch remained as a reminder of our 'passionate' encounter. It's my trophy, buddy."

Kai said, wearing a mock-triumphant smile, hiding his hands in his pants pockets, then casually leaned back on the bench, avoiding his friend's gaze.

In response to this story, Felix remained silent for a moment, continuing to bore into Kai with his eyes, then sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, not even trying to hide his irritation.

"Ha... My God. I can't believe this... What an idiot you are. You're hopeless!"

Felix muttered through clenched teeth, covering his face with his hand, then looked back at Kai, but this time not with an unspoken question, but as if at a small, foolish child. It seemed Felix said something else, but I couldn't make out what.

When I heard how he spent his time in Spain, it hurt so much it felt like someone punched me in the stomach, knocking all the air out of my lungs. I slowly turned my head towards Lia, looking at her with glassy eyes, like a broken porcelain doll. I had seen those beach photos on his account—how he was sunbathing, lying on the sand, while warm rays of sunshine caressed his smooth skin. But I didn't even suspect that behind those photos, there was a girl who caught his interest. Probably, she was one of those whose presence attracts everyone's gaze nearby.

"No. Don't! I don't want to think about it," I said to myself mentally, frowning and shaking my head in an attempt to regain some composure.

"So... why don't you take your own advice, Lia? Just go up to Felix, say 'hi,' offer to help trim the lawn or tend the garden. Now's the perfect opportunity to make the first move. Look, he's so close; you just have to step up."

I said deliberately after a brief pause, looking intently at Lia. There was nothing hurtful in my words—it could have sounded like friendly advice in any other situation. But not then, when my provocative words dripped with venom, and my gaze was so empty. So low, so scornful. I was like a wounded animal cornered, eager to hurt anyone who reached out to me, even if that hand was stretched out to help.