Everyone thought I had it all.
I could see it in their eyes—the way they flicked toward my shoes, my bag, my perfectly ironed uniform. Like they were trying to find something wrong, something to crack open and expose. But there was never a hair out of place. That was the rule. Perfect or invisible.
Westbrook High was the kind of place where the parking lot was more gravel than pavement, and half the lockers didn't close properly. The vending machines hadn't worked in two years, but people still shook them like faith might make soda appear. Everything felt like it was barely holding on.
Except me.
I was the girl with the glossy hair and a car that didn't rattle or smoke. My father made sure of that. Every morning, his driver pulled up in the matte-black SUV, and I stepped out like I was walking onto the red carpet. I didn't ask for the spectacle. But I didn't fight it either. Fighting didn't change anything in this town. It just made people hate you louder.
I closed the car door behind me and walked across the lot, heels clicking against cracked pavement. Conversations dropped as I passed. I didn't look. I never did. If you pretend not to hear the venom in people's voices, sometimes it stops cutting. But today, someone didn't pretend.
"Nice of Her Highness to join us," someone muttered loud enough for me to hear. I didn't stop. I never do. But the words trailed behind me like sticky smoke. I stepped into homeroom, slid into my usual seat by the window, and stared out at the fog still clinging to the hills. From up there, you couldn't see the peeling paint or the broken gutters. Just green and gold and clouds. Beautiful. Untouchable.
"Aria Vale," Ms. Gordon called. "You're partnering with Jay Carter on the social history project. It's due in three weeks." I blinked. Jay Carter? Great.
Jay was trouble in ripped jeans. The kind of boy who smirked like he already knew the punchline to every joke, including yours. He had sharp eyes, like he saw through things—and people. Including me. I glanced over. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, staring at the ceiling like he'd rather be anywhere else. When he caught me looking, he gave a slow, sarcastic grin.
"Lucky me," he said under his breath. The class chuckled, i turned back to the window feeling too embarrassed.
Lunch was worse. I sat alone, as usual. It wasn't like I didn't want company. But no one wanted to sit with the girl who lived in the mansion behind electric gates, The one whose father owned half the buildings their parents paid rent for, No one wanted to risk being seen as a traitor to their own lives. I used to sit with a girl named Kira. Freshman year. We'd shared notes, secrets, playlists. Then her dad got evicted from one of my father's properties, and she stopped talking to me mid-sentence one day. Just like that. I guess I became the villain in her story, Maybe I was. Across the cafeteria, Jay laughed too loud with his friends. He looked at me once. Just a glance. But it lingered long enough to make my heart trip. I hated that.
After school, I waited by the gates. The SUV pulled up like clockwork, sleek and silent. I got in, sank into the leather seat, and finally exhaled, "How was school, Miss Vale?" Thomas asked, polite as always. "Educational," I said, voice flat, He didn't press. He never did.
As we drove out of town, I watched the streets get smaller, the buildings more worn. Kids in secondhand hoodies kicked a deflated soccer ball across a dirt lot. A woman smoked on a porch with peeling paint. This town was a graveyard of dreams that never made it past the county line, And at the top of the hill, there was our house. Gleaming. Cold. Watching everything below like a king over his dying kingdom, Inside, the silence hit first. No mother. No music. Just the quiet hum of money trying to keep everything from falling apart.
I climbed the stairs, tossed my bag on the bed, and looked in the mirror, Perfect hair. Flawless skin. Gold bracelet still clasped tight on my wrist, I didn't know who I was without all that. But I knew who they thought I was, Spoiled, Fake, Untouchable. I turned away from the mirror and sat by the window, sketching the view I saw every day. The hills. The fog. The town trying to breathe beneath the dust, And I wondered—not for the first time—if anyone would ever see the girl behind the glass.