Eldritch Academy rose out of the misty hills like a crown of crystal and stone, its towers wrapped in living enchantments. To most new students it was a dream. To Rita Red, it became a slow knife.
The first week was all forced politeness. Upperclassmen gave tours. Professors droned about control, discipline, and the glory of ability combat. Rita sat in the back of every class, doodling vines in her notebook. She raised her hand only when asked, answered softly, and laughed at the right jokes.
They smelled weakness anyway.
Jax Kane—broad-shouldered firebrand with a permanent smirk—was the first to strike. During practicals, while others summoned flames or ice, Rita coaxed a single potted fern to wave. The class howled. "Look at the greenhouse reject!" Jax roared, launching a harmless spark that singed the edge of her uniform. Rita flinched. Then smiled wider. "It's okay. Fire helps plants grow sometimes."
Inside, she imagined wrapping vines around his neck until his face turned purple.
The torment escalated. Books "accidentally" soaked with water that ruined her notes. Whispers in the halls: "Why is she here?" Pranks in the cafeteria—someone dumped fertilizer on her food "to help her bloom." Lila Crystalheart, elegant and cruel with her diamond-sharp abilities, made it personal. She'd corner Rita in the bathrooms and create tiny crystal mirrors that reflected Rita's face back at her. "See? Even your reflection looks late."
High school drama mixed with the powered cruelty in ugly ways. There were cliques of elemental elites who threw exclusive parties in floating dorm lounges. Rita wasn't invited. Instead she heard the laughter echoing down corridors. She watched couples form and break over who had the flashier powers. She endured group projects where teammates groaned when she was assigned to them.
But Rita endured. She brought cookies she'd grown herself—sweet berries plucked from her own fingertips—and offered them with that gentle voice. Some kids even took them. A few almost felt bad.
At night she'd lie in her temporary room, staring at the ceiling as silent tears ran down her face. The plants in the window box grew wildly, thorns pressing against the glass like they wanted to break out and hurt someone for her. "Soon," she whispered to them. "Just a little longer."