Chapter Two: Welcome to Hamilton High
Two weeks passed, and reality finally stopped pretending it would wait for me. School was unavoidable now. Sylvia and I both quietly hoped that everything we'd heard about racism was just bullshit stereotypes—overblown horror stories people liked to repeat. Dad didn't seem worried. He'd already gotten a new job. Marketing, sales, something like that. Adult stuff. Vague stuff. I didn't bother asking.
That morning, Dad drove us to school. I pressed my forehead against the car window, watching the city slide by like a movie I didn't choose to star in. Tall buildings. Clean streets. Trees lined up like soldiers. Everything looked too perfect, too controlled. Like one wrong move and the whole place would snap.
Still… maybe I was starting to get used to it. Maybe this new life wouldn't chew me up and spit me out completely.
Our registrations were already done, which meant there was no more hiding. I was officially a transfer student in 12th grade—senior year. Back home, it was Senior Secondary School 3. Different name, same pressure, same future-deciding bullshit.
Sylvia was in 10th grade. She was a genius. Like, effortlessly smart. The kind of person teachers already trusted without question. I knew she'd be fine.
"Let's go in there and crush it, huh?" I said, trying to sound confident instead of terrified.
She didn't even look at me. "Speak for yourself."
That one hurt more than I expected. She was still pissed. At me. At this place. At life. Moving here had ruined things I never imagined it would—and somehow my relationship with my own sister was one of them. At this point, it wasn't strained. It was fucking deteriorating.
We split ways in the hallway. She went to Math. I headed for English.
I should've been excited. I loved English. Words made sense to me when people didn't.
Still, my hands were shaking when I reached the classroom door.
I opened it.
The loud creeeak felt like a goddamn alarm announcing my arrival. Every head turned. My heart slammed against my ribs.
Pull it together, Evelyn. Don't look weak.
Someone else was already standing at the front of the class. A new student. Everyone else looked washed-out, almost sickly—but not him.
He was tall. Like, really tall. Over six feet easily. His skin was lightly tanned, his hair soft and slightly messy, falling into his face like he didn't even try. He was calm. Too calm. When he spoke, his voice was smooth, controlled.
"I'm Leon Ryder."
Miss Daphne smiled. "It's nice to have you here, Leon. Welcome to Hamilton High. I'm Miss Daphne."
"Thank you, Miss Daphne," he replied.
Of course he was polite. Of fucking course.
He dressed like he belonged in a Netflix show—striped black-and-white shirt hugging him just right, clean trousers, white sneakers that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. Minimal jewelry. Effortless. Annoyingly perfect.
The class echoed, "Welcome, Leon," but one voice cut through the rest like a blade.
"Welcome, Leon!"
A blonde girl stood up slowly, like she knew all eyes would follow her. She was gorgeous in a dangerous way. Rich-girl confidence. Sleek ponytail, heavy makeup, lips curled into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"You're going to love it here," she said. "You can sit next to me."
The girl beside her froze when Stacy turned and stared her down. One look. That was all it took. The girl grabbed her bag and moved.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Yeah. That bitch was a problem.
I stepped further into the room, trying not to attract more attention, but Miss Daphne spotted me instantly.
"And we have another new student joining us today," she said. "We're very lucky. This is Evelyn Olu—"
She butchered my name.
"It's Olajide," I said quickly. "Good morning, class."
Silence.
Not even a fake welcome.
"My name is Evelyn Olajide. I'm from Nigeria, and—"
"We don't need your backstory, freak."
The words sliced through the room.
My stomach dropped.
"Stacy," Miss Daphne snapped. "Behave."
The class erupted in laughter.
My face burned. Fuck this place. Fuck these people.
I forced a smile so fake it hurt and slid into an empty seat, gripping my bag like it was the only solid thing left in the room. Miss Daphne mumbled, "Welcome to Hamilton High," and continued the lesson like nothing had just happened.
There were whispers everywhere. Eyes crawling over me. Judging. Measuring. Like I was some foreign object that didn't belong.
Then I felt it.
Leon turned around and smiled at me—soft, genuine—and mouthed welcome.
I smiled back before I could stop myself.
Big mistake.
Stacy noticed.
Her smile vanished. Her eyes locked onto mine, sharp and cold. Not jealous. Not annoyed. Calculating. Like she'd just found a new target.
My skin prickled.
As the lecture dragged on, my thoughts spiraled. I promised Mom and Dad I'd stay out of trouble. I meant it. I really did.
But something deep in my gut told me Stacy wasn't the kind of girl you could ignore. She wasn't loud chaos—she was quiet, deliberate danger.
Would she come for me?
Would I fight back?
Or would I let her slowly fuck with my head?
I stared at my notebook, pretending to take notes while dread settled heavy in my chest.
This wasn't just a new school.
This was a trap.
And I had a feeling Hamilton High was about to show me exactly how ugly things could get.