The glass doors of Westbridge High School gleamed like the gates of another world. Layla Brooks tightened the straps of her faded backpack, whispering to herself, It's just school. Walk in. Breathe.
Except this wasn't just school.
It was Westbridge—the land of perfect hair, shiny cars, and families with names that owned buildings. And then there was her, the scholarship girl.
The hallway buzzed like a hive. Girls compared manicures while boys tossed footballs in the air as though they owned the place. The air smelled faintly of expensive perfume, not the drugstore body spray Layla had spritzed on that morning.
"New girl alert," someone whispered as she passed.
"Check the shoes. Definitely Walmart."
Laughter followed. Her face heated, but she kept walking. She wouldn't cry. Not here. Not ever.
Her luck lasted all of three minutes.
By the main staircase, a manicured foot slid into her path. Layla stumbled, and her books went flying across the polished floor. Gasps, then more laughter.
"Oops," a honey-sweet voice said. "Watch where you're going, scholarship girl."
Layla's stomach dropped. She didn't need an introduction to know who it was.
Madison Carter.
Westbridge's queen bee stood above her like she'd been waiting for this moment—hair glossy, uniform skirt tailored, lips painted the exact shade of power. Behind her, her friends giggled, phones already out to record.
Layla's fingers shook as she scrambled for her books. "I said excuse me," she muttered.
Madison tilted her head, eyes sparkling with cruelty. "Excused. But maybe next time, try not to crawl through my hallway."
The hallway erupted. Layla bit her cheek so hard it hurt. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't give Madison the satisfaction.
And then—
"Madison. Really?"
The voice was steady, deep, and carried enough weight to cut the noise in half.
Layla froze. Slowly, she looked up.
At the top of the stairs stood Jaxon Reed—Westbridge's golden boy. Quarterback. Every girl's crush. Tall, broad-shouldered, messy golden-brown hair that made it look like he'd just rolled out of a movie scene.
The laughter dimmed to whispers.
Madison's smile slipped. "Jaxon, this isn't your business."
"It becomes my business when I see people acting like bullies," Jaxon said, coming down the stairs with effortless confidence. His eyes, sharp hazel, locked on Madison like a warning.
Then he crouched beside Layla, gathering one of her books before handing it to her. His smile softened. "Here. Don't let them get to you."
Layla's heart stuttered. Her fingers brushed his as she took the book, warmth shooting up her arm.
Phones clicked. Whispers spread like wildfire.
"Did you see that?"
"He helped her?"
"No way Madison lets this slide."
Jaxon straightened, looking at Layla for a moment longer before turning back to Madison. "She's got more courage than half this school. Maybe back off."
Layla rose slowly, clutching her books like armor. Every eye was on her. Madison's glare burned hotter than fire.
In that moment, Layla Brooks—nobody, scholarship girl, outsider—had done the unthinkable.
She had caught the attention of both the golden boy and the queen of Westbridge High.
And the war for the crown had just begun.