"I see them," Jada answered, her tone quiet yet sharp beneath the surface. "But I won't give them the satisfaction." They reached the doors of the main building, tall and heavy, opening with a soft mechanical sound that felt too smooth for what waited on the other side. As they stepped inside, the chill of the air conditioning hit their skin, but it couldn't cool the fire building inside them. The students already gathered in the hallway turned to look. conversations pausing as eyes followed the twins through the corridor.

Some faces held curiosity, others open hostility, and a few showed a flicker of something worse. Amusement, like they were waiting for the moment the new girls would fall out of place and give them all something to laugh about. Jada's gaze swept the hallway, reading it like a map of territory marked by invisible boundaries. She saw how the bullies stood in clusters near the lockers.

How the girls whispered behind their polished nails, casting sidelong looks filled with quiet malice. Every detail sank in. Every glance felt like a challenge waiting to be answered. They knew this was only the beginning.

The looks, the whispers, the sharp-edged words spoken just loud enough to sting, but quiet enough to deny if challenged. All of it was just the start of something that would build and build until it could no longer be ignored. But they were ready. They had faced worse than this.

They had trained for storms just like this one. Though the sky over Rosewood Hills Academy seemed clear and calm, Jada and Janelle could feel the pressure building in the air. The promise of thunder waiting just beyond the horizon. They wouldn't be the ones to strike first.

Their father had taught them better than that. But if the storm came to them, they would not run. And when it did come, it would be ready to meet something far stronger than it expected.

The first days at Rosewood Hills passed exactly how Jada and Janelle had expected. But that didn't make it any easier to carry. From the moment they stepped into their first class, it became clear that every eye was waiting for them, not with welcome or curiosity, but with cold, quiet judgment. The classroom itself was neat and bright, sunlight spilling across clean desks and shining off polished floors.

But no amount of light could hide the way the students and even the teachers treated them like they didn't belong. Teachers called their names without looking up, their voices flat, their attention already moving on as if the twins were little more than a line on the attendance sheet. In the hallways, the crowd seemed to shift just enough to block their way, forcing them to step aside or move slower, all while pretending it was an accident. It wasn't.

They knew it, and the students around them knew it, too. But Jada and Janelle didn't give them the reaction they wanted. They kept their heads high, moved with purpose, and didn't let the tension force them into a corner. Even when the looks grew longer, and the whispers sharper, they pushed through every day, steady and silent.

It didn't take long for Ryan Mallerie to show his face. He wasn't hard to spot. He acted like he owned the place, walking with a careless swagger that came from knowing the rules never really applied to him. His blonde hair was perfectly styled like he'd stepped out of a magazine.

And he wore his uniform like it was a costume, loosening his tie and leaving his shirt untucked to show just how little he cared. "Hey," Ryan called out one morning as the twins crossed the courtyard to their lockers. His voice was loud, confident, meant to grab attention. His friends gathered around him, laughing already, like they didn't even need to hear the joke to know it would be good.

"You two get lost on the way to the servants' entrance?" he asked, his words clear and sharp in the open air. His friends broke out laughing, too loud for the weak insult. But they weren't laughing at the joke itself. They were laughing at the target.

Janelle kept her eyes forward, her face calm, her steps even. She didn't give them the satisfaction of looking back. Jada's gaze flicked to Ryan for just a moment, sharp and steady, but she didn't stop walking either. She saw the smirk on his face, saw his friends nudge each other, feeding off the attention.

And though her chest tightened with anger, she kept it beneath the surface. They both did, but Ryan wasn't finished. "Guess they don't understand English," he called out louder, making sure everyone nearby could hear. "Maybe we should try speaking their language," he added, following it with a degrading racial remark.

The laughter that followed was worse this time. It spread through the crowd, pulling more students in, even ones who hadn't paid attention before. Now they were watching, waiting, some amused, some curious, none of them caring enough to stop it. Jada's jaw tightened, her teeth pressed together, but she took a slow breath, steadying herself.