"What about you?" she asked Zoe. "Why are you sitting with the scholarship kid?"
Zoe grinned. "My dad's the janitor here. I've got nothing to lose."
That evening, Aaliyah returned to the modest two-bedroom apartment she shared with her mother. The contrast between Westfield's opulence and their simple home was stark: clean but worn furniture, walls painted to cover cracks, the ever-present scent of her mother's essential oil diffuser trying to mask the smell of the Chinese restaurant downstairs.
Monica was already home, still in her scrubs after a double shift, stirring something on the stove. When she saw Aaliyah, her tired face brightened. "How was it? Did those kids give you trouble?"
Aaliyah set down her backpack. "It was fine. The classes are good."
Monica gave her daughter a knowing look. "That's not what I asked."
"Nothing I can't handle," Aaliyah insisted, pulling out her calculus textbook. "Look at this advanced math they're teaching. I've already got most of it figured out."
After dinner, Aaliyah retreated to her bedroom, a space that revealed who she truly was in ways her careful school persona didn't. Academic trophies lined her shelves beside dog-eared science fiction novels. The walls were covered with college pennants, NASA posters, and a meticulous vision board for her future.
In the corner, partially hidden behind her desk, hung a single photograph of a stern-looking man in military uniform, his face partially obscured by shadow. It was the only image she had of her father, taken before he disappeared on a classified mission when she was seven. Sometimes she wondered if he would have been proud of her, or if he even thought about the daughter he'd left behind.
Her mother never spoke of him unless pressed, and then only in clipped sentences that revealed nothing. All Aaliyah knew was that he had been some kind of Special Forces soldier, and that according to the military, he was missing in action, presumed dead.
Two weeks into the semester, Aaliyah opened her locker to find someone had vandalized the inside with racial slurs, cleverly hidden behind stickers that only she would see. Her hands trembled as she peeled them off, crumpling them tightly in her fist.
When she reported the incident to Vice Principal Warner, his response was dismissive.