Chapter 4 Farrah’s Smile
The first thing I notice about Farrah Valdez is her smile.
The second is that it never moves.
But I don’t know that yet.
What I know is that the hallway feels different the second I step into it.
No one actually says anything.
But the noise drops a little when I walk past, just enough for me to notice.
A phone lowers near the lockers. Someone laughs, then stops too quickly.
I keep walking.
Walking too fast looks guilty.
Walking too slow looks like I want attention.
So I focus on the floor and count the lockers as I pass.
It was one class. One project.
Still, the words from yesterday stick with me.
“Chosen”
I didn’t choose anything. I just stood up when my name was called.
Krizzy steps up beside me, bumping my shoulder lightly.
She isn’t scanning the hallway the way I am.
No one’s watching how she reacts.
“They’re being weird,” she mutters.
“They’re always weird.”
“Not like this.”
I reach my locker and twist the dial carefully, listening for the soft click.
My hands aren’t shaking, which feels like a small win.
If I act like nothing changed, maybe nothing did.
Across the hall, a group near the windows lowers their voices at the same time.
One girl looks over her shoulder. When I catch her looking, she smiles too quickly, like she didn’t expect me to notice.
Krizzy looks the same way I do.
“So it’s that kind of morning,” she says.
“It’s nothing.”
“You got paired with Isaac Fletcher in front of everyone,” she says. “That’s not nothing.”
“It was assigned.”
“He moved his notebook,” she says quietly.
I don’t answer.
Because she’s right.
And so did they.
Something changes in the air before I see her.
Farrah Valdez walks down the center of the hallway like it was built for her.
Two girls trail behind her—close enough to belong, far enough to show the order of things.
Her smile is already in place when she stops in front of us.
“Clara,” she says warmly, like we’re continuing a conversation we started weeks ago.
“I was hoping I’d run into you.”
She holds out her hand.
“I’m Farrah. I don’t think we’ve properly met.”
Properly makes it sound like I missed something.
I shake her hand anyway. Not shaking it would look rude.
Her grip is light. Like she already knows exactly how firm it should be.
“I heard about the pairing,” she says. “How exciting for you.”
“It’s just a project.”
“Of course,” Farrah says easily. “Still, opportunities like that are special.”
She glances down the hallway for a second.
“Isaac is very selective.”
Behind her, one of the girls nods like that sentence needed confirmation.
Krizzy steps closer beside me.
“It was assigned by the teacher.”
Farrah turns to her without losing her smile.
“Yes,” she says gently. “I’m sure it was finalized that way. These things usually are.”
“As in?” Krizzy asks.
Farrah’s tone stays pleasant.
“I mean, it’s nice when everything lines up.”
She clasps her hands in front of her.
“Talent. Generosity. Potential.”
Her smile brightens slightly.
“It reflects well on everyone involved.”
“I don’t need generosity,” I say before I can stop myself.
She meets my eyes again, calm and bright.
“I’m sure you don’t,” Farrah says.
“Fletcher Academy has always believed in lifting promising students.”
A small pause.
“It’s part of what makes this place special.”
Promising.
Lifted.
Like I started somewhere lower and someone pulled me up.
Krizzy lets out a quiet breath.
“Clara earned her spot.”
“I never suggested otherwise,” Farrah replies smoothly. “We all value merit here.”
No one around us moves.
But I can feel them listening.
“It kind of sounds like you did,” Krizzy says.
Farrah tilts her head, like she almost feels sorry for me.
“I think misunderstandings happen when emotions are high.”
“No one’s emotional,” Krizzy says flatly.
“I’m glad,” Farrah says.
She looks back at me.
“Attention can be overwhelming.”
My shoulders tense.
“Especially when it happens all at once.”
Attention.
Like I asked for it.
“I’ll manage,” I say.
“I’m sure you will.”
She meets my eyes for another second.
Then she looks past me at the students nearby.
She knows they’re listening.
And she knows they’ll repeat this later.
“I should get to class,” I say. My voice sounds steady, which feels like another small victory.
“It was nice meeting you.”
I adjust the strap of my bag and give her a small nod.
Polite. Neutral.
The kind of ending that should close a conversation.
Farrah’s smile widens a little, like she approves of good manners.
“Of course,” she says. “I wouldn’t want to keep you.”
But she doesn’t move.
Her orbit stays exactly where it is, forming a loose curve in the hallway.
Moving forward now would mean pushing past them.
Students nearby pretend to check their schedules while staying close enough to hear.
Krizzy steps forward, ready to walk through them anyway.
Farrah tilts her head.
“I only wanted to introduce myself properly,” she says.
“It’s important to understand how things work here.”
“I understand,” I say.
“I’m sure you think you do,” she replies gently.
The hallway feels tighter than it did a minute ago.
Farrah tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
Still perfectly calm.
“The Academy can be generous,” she says.
“But it also pays attention.”
She pauses.
“People notice things.”
She glances toward the lockers behind me.
“They notice who spends time with who.”
Another pause.
“And they notice when someone new suddenly becomes…”
She looks back at me.
“…someone everyone’s talking about.”
The last part lands heavier than the rest.
“It’s a small community,” she continues.
“Reputations form quickly.”
Krizzy crosses her arms.
“Are you warning her?”
Farrah lets out a soft laugh.
“Of course not,” she says.
“I’m welcoming her.”
She looks back at me.
“No one likes feeling unprepared.”
She studies me for a second.
“You seem observant, Clara.”
She pauses.
“Observant people usually do well here.”
Her smile stays perfectly in place.
“They understand timing.”
Another beat.
“Boundaries.”
And then—
“Balance.”
Each word lands carefully, like it belongs in a handbook no one hands you.
I nod.
Not agreeing.
Just ending it.
Farrah finally steps aside.
Her smile never moves.
“I’m sure,” she says softly,
“we’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”
And the worst part is—
she says it like that’s already decided.
