(Jaz's Point of View)
The first thing I noticed was the smell
this place smelled like polish, paper, and something floral. Too clean. Too fake. The kind of place where everything's put together on the surface, but underneath... mess hides in lockers and whispers in stairwells.
I hated it already.
I stood still at the school gates, the metal cold against my fingers as I gripped the strap of my bag. Just one more building. One more label. One more chance to pretend I didn't care.
Jaz you can do it!
Don't even try to mess up with someone or else you will be dead.
I wasn't nervous. That's not what this was. My heart wasn't pounding because I was scared — it was just annoyed. At the world. At the principal who transferred me. At the counselor who said, "A fresh start might be good for you, Jaz." He was such a dracula If he had said a few more words I would have given him a fresh start in his life.
At every pair of eyes I could already feel waiting behind those windows.
The uniform clung to me awkwardly. It wasn't mine. The sleeves were stiff, the color didn't suit me, and the logo on the chest — Section V's proud little eagle — felt like a lie. Freedom? Please. I could barely breathe.
Still, I walked in.
One step. Then another. The echo of my shoes bounced off the walls like tiny reminders: you are going to make a mess
When I entered the first room a sharp eyes met mine.
The receptionist.
Short, round glasses perched at the tip of her nose. Her hair in a bun so tight it looked like it hurt. She didn't smile when I entered. Just raised a brow like I was already causing problems.
"You're the transfer student?"
I nodded.
She handed me a timetable. "Section V. Room 308. Third floor. You're late."
No "Welcome." No "Good luck." Just directions. Cold and straight.
I took the paper, said nothing, and walked.
Upstairs. This school is just for the rich spoiled brats it's not like that I am not rich but I'm not spoiled of course I'm with my relatives now and I don't want to create any mess that will just give them a huge tension
My eyes widened as I saw the..... elevator? Seriously .Do universities also have elevators? Whatever I'm gonna use this weehiii
Now I'm walking in a straight corridor.
Past students who stopped mid-laugh to glance at me. A girl whispered something to her friend. A boy nudged his buddy. I heard them. I saw the looks. But I kept my head high, my face blank.
Jaz doesn't flinch.
Each step felt heavier, not because of the bag on my shoulder, but because of the weight in my chest. The one I've carried since things went wrong in my past university. Since they labeled me "difficult." Since I started drawing more knives than hearts in my notebooks.
I reached Room 308.
There was some problem with no. 3 it was rotated
The door was slightly ajar. Voices murmured inside. A teacher's tone. A few giggles. A cough.
First i glanced on walls the poster were crumbled, the benches were covered with a pile of dust . And... A bad smell of socks eww mine were way better then those i thaught "the worst smell in the world" award only goes to my socks. But I am happy to know that there is someone competing for my socks too.
Anyways.
One last breath.
Then I pushed the door open.
Eyes turned. Slowly. Like dominoes tipping.
And there I was — the outsider. The transfer. The girl with walls around her thicker than the school's own gates.
I didn't smile. Didn't wave. Just met their stares with my own. Sharp.
The teacher — someone in a green kurti and heels that clicked when she walked — turned to me. "Ah, you must be Jasmine Jade Millar"
I flinched. No one calls me that.
"It's Jaz," I corrected, voice steady. "Just Jaz."
She paused, then smiled too brightly. "Of course. Come in."
And just like that...
I stepped into Section V.
why this section V is too apart from the main building?