Soft Monday morning light settled over the quiet streets of Odenton. Everything felt still, peaceful, almost suspended in time. The view driftts toward a single small house. Half-closed blinds glowing faintly as the rising sun creeps in.

The alarm clock buzzes. A teenage hand—Michelle’s—fumbled across the nightstand until it finally hit the button. She lifted her head, hair messy, eyes barely open. With the sluggish determination of someone who had done this too many times, she stumbled out of bed. She brushes her teeth, combs her hair and gets changed for school. Downstairs in the kitchen she quickly grabs a fresh toast.

Funny thing about normal days—you never know when you’re having your last one.

Schoolbag over her shoulder, toast in hand, she headed for the door—only to pause. Her father’s shoes and jacket were missing.

Dad already went to work. He’s always working. For the past five years it’s been just the two of us here. He says he’s doing it for me, but… sometimes it feels like he’s forgetting that I’m even here.

A moment later, Michelle was on her bike, coasting down the street. She stopped at a crossing and glanced toward a house at the end of the block. A moving truck stands in front of it.

That house has been empty for a pretty long time, but there’s been a lot of traffic lately. I wonder who moved in.

She continued riding through the calm Maryland suburb toward school.

Inside the hallway, Michelle stood at her locker, scanning the crowd. Students clustered in every corner—popular girls, loud boys from the football team, chitchatting groups everywhere.

They sure are popular. I wish I would have at least a little bit of attention. Not too much. Just a bit. And not just when someone wants something from me. Being tagged as the school nerd sucks sometimes.

“Yo! Williams!”

Michelle sighed as three girls—definitely trouble—approached her.

Oh no… Not this kind of attention.

Brenda stepped forward with a practiced glare. “Hey. I have a little problem. And since you have a good line with the principal, I need you to help me.”

“What do you want this time, Brenda?” Michelle asked flatly.

“Over a month ago I sent a request for a new locker. My lock is fucked up and I need it fixed! If I manage to open my locker, I can't close it, and if I manage to close it, I can't open it without a crowbar! This can’t go on like this!”

“And let me guess: request denied?”

“Denied? They never even answered me!”

One has to wonder why…

Brenda poked Michelle in the shoulder. “Listen! Either you get me a new locker till the end of the week, or I’m taking one by force! And it will be on you!”

With that, the three bullies strutted away.

Well, I think I should… A broken locker is a problem, and I don’t want her to cause more trouble than usual.

“Hey, you!”

Michelle turned. A young woman in a lab coat, looking bored and unfriendly, stood in front of her.

“Where do I find room number 8?” the woman asked.

“Eight? Down the hall, then left. Who are you looking for, miss? That room is empty.”

“Not anymore,” the woman replied while already walking past.

“Huh? They’re finally using that old thing? What are they putting in there?”

“Me.”

Michelle blinked, completely thrown off.

Who was that woman? Never seen her before…

She entered her classroom and noticed two extra seats. Every classmate was already present. Moments later, Mrs. Crawford, elderly and always a bit tired looking teacher stepped inside.

“Good morning, class. I am happy to see you all here and excited for the new semester. But before we begin, I have two important announcements to make. First—since the school covers a lot of sports activities, the decision has been made to establish an infirmary here. There will be a trained medic, so if any of you need medical attention, feel free to go there. But don’t misuse it. The infirmary is downstairs in room number 8.”

Room 8? That’s where the lady in the lab coat went! Wait, that grump is the new medic? If so, I don’t think we’ll have a problem with students misusing the infirmary…

“And second—starting today two new students are joining us! Please, come in!”

The door opened. Two girls walked inside. One looked like she stepped straight out of an army recruitment poster—medium dark skin, long blonde twintail, khaki clothes, posture sharp and strict. The other was taller, dark-skinned, wearing a black hoodie and a face that gave nothing away.

“This is Trella—” Mrs. Crawford began. The blonde raised a finger sharply, her glare slicing the air.

“It is pronounced Trella. Trella Moretti.” Her accent was pure Italian.

“A-Ah… y-yes… T-Trella. Welcome. And this is—miss, uh—school policy says no head coverings, please.”

The second girl stared at her for a long, uncomfortable beat. Trella nudged her elbow into the girl’s ribs. Reluctantly, she lowered her hood. A long white mohawk fell out. A gasp echoed across the classroom. Even Mrs. Crawford froze.

“Aya,” the girl said simply.

“A–A–… uh… please, just—take a seat.”

Trella sat down next to Michelle. Aya took the seat directly in front of her. That was the moment everything started to change. Class resumed. Pens scratched paper, pages flipped. The atmosphere tried to return to normal—but never quite made it. Trella sat straight-backed, taking notes with terrifying precision. Aya leaned back, eyes fixed out the window, bored and aloof. Every few minutes, someone glanced at them. Every time, either Trella or Aya noticed—and stared back until the person looked away. Eventually Aya had enough. She turned slowly toward the boy beside her. She waited until he stole another glance.

“...The fuck you’re looking at?”

He froze like prey that wandered into a predator’s den. Even Mrs. Crawford stiffened.

“M-M-Miss, language, please…”

Wow. Where the hell did they come from? I’ve seen a lot of weird students around here, but those two really take the cake…

The bell rang. Chaos erupted instantly. Michelle stepped out into the hallway as clusters of students gossiped in hushed, excited voices.

“Did you see that tall one with the black dress?” someone whispered. “I swear she looked right through me!”

“Yeah, she’s terrifying! Like—‘I eat nails for breakfast’ terrifying!”

“Saw the white-haired one! Dude, she’s metal!”

“Metal? Man, she is like the incarnation of bad mood! Even old Crawford was scared of her! By the way, I just saw another new girl downstairs. Blonde, twin braids—wow!”

“Which one’s that?”

“Don’t know, but—damn, is she hot or what?”

Michelle stood there, overwhelmed.

Then two more girls she had never seen before walked past her. A tall Asian girl in a strange get-up that resembled some traditional clothes and a smaller energetic girl that looked kinda messy.

“Next up is chemistry class. Boring…” one muttered.

“Don’t blow up the lab,” the other replied.

“Did I ever?”

“Do I have to answer that?”

Even more new students? All of them showing up out of nowhere. That doesn’t happen here—not like this.

Gym class came next. In the changing room, Michelle caught a glimpse of Trella and Aya shirtless—and forgot to breathe. Trella’s torso was covered in scars. Thin, pale lines, crossing over ribs, stomach, back, shoulders.

Trella noticed her staring. “What? Cats…”

Michelle whipped her head away, stunned.

Cats? Cats don’t leave marks like that. And Aya… her muscle definition is unreal. Not huge, but coiled like steel cables. Where did she come from? A street fight club?

In the gym, the girls played volleyball. Trella and Aya ended up on opposite teams. Whenever one of them served or spiked, the rest of the girls scattered for cover. Their hits weren’t just strong—they were brutal. One unlucky girl took a direct spike from Trella to the face and dropped like a sack of potatoes.

“Damn,” the gym teacher muttered. “I think we got our first patient for the new medic…”

“I’ll take her there,” Michelle volunteered.

She escorted the injured girl to the infirmary.

“Hello? Anybody here?” Michelle called.

Milena appeared, unimpressed, bored, grumpy. “What is it? Hm? You look familiar… OK, what do we have here…”

“She’s injured,” Michelle explained. “She got hit by a ball.”

“You call that an injury? A few drops of blood? Walk it off…”

“Ain’t you gonna treat her?!” Michelle asked in disbelief.

“Treat what? Her pupils react normally and that damn nose isn’t even broken! But that I can fix, if you want…”

Both girls stared at her, speechless.

Milena sighed and shoved an ice pack into the girl’s hands. “Ah, OK… Here is an ice pack for you. You can go now.”

They left together.

Damn, talk about your bedside manners… Where did they dig her up?

Lunchtime arrived. Michelle searched for a free seat and stopped. At one table—every single new face she had seen today was gathered.

One, two, three… Ten? Ten new girls? And what´s with the age difference? And how are they sitting there? Not one of them had their back fully to the cafeteria. They were angled, spaced, covering sightlines like… like soldiers. Where did they come from? Well, enough asking myself. If I want to find out something, I need to ask THEM.