Chapter 4 Farrah’s Smile

The hallway feels different the second I step into it. No one says anything outright, but the noise dips when I walk by, just enough that I can tell I’m part of it. A phone lowers near the lockers, turned away a second too late as someone laughs, then quiets, but I keep my pace even.

Walking too fast looks guilty, and too slow looks like I want attention. I focus on the floor and count the lockers as I pass.

It was one class, one project. Still, the words from yesterday stay with me —chosen. I didn’t choose anything, I just stood up when my name was called.

Krizzy falls into step beside me, close enough that our shoulders brush. She doesn’t scan the hallway the way I do since no one is measuring her reactions.

“They’re being weird,” she says quietly.

“They’re always weird.”

“Not like this.”

I reach my locker and twist the dial, careful and controlled, listening for the soft click. My hands are steady, 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 glances over her shoulder, then smiles too quickly when I notice, like she forgot which version of herself she meant to use. Krizzy follows my line of sight.

“So it’s that kind of morning,” she says.

“It’s nothing.”

“You got paired with Isaac Fletcher in front of everyone. It’s not nothing.”

“It was assigned.”

“He moved his notebook,” she says. “You saw that.” I did.

“And so did they.”

The air shifts before I see her, Farrah walks down the center of the hallway like it was built around her stride. Two girls trail just behind her, close enough to be included, 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 are picking up a conversation we started weeks ago. 

“I was hoping I’d run into you.”

“I’m Farrah,” she continues, offering her hand. “I don’t think we’ve properly met.”

Properly makes it sound like I missed something. I shake her hand because not shaking it would look rude. Her grip is light, like she already knows exactly how firm to be.

“I heard about the pairing,” she says. “How exciting for you.”

“It’s just a project.”

“Of course. Still, opportunities like that are special, Isaac is very selective.”

Behind her, one of the girls nods, Krizzy shifts beside me.

“It was assigned by the teacher.” Farrah turns to her without losing her smile.

“Yes, I’m sure it was finalized that way as these things usually are.”

“As in?” Krizzy asks, Farrah’s tone stays gentle.

“As in, it’s lovely when everything aligns. Talent, generosity, and potential, it reflects well on everyone involved.”

“I don’t need generosity,” I say before I can stop myself. Her eyes settle back on mine, calm and bright. 

“I’m sure you don’t since Fletcher Academy has always believed in lifting promising students. It’s part of what makes this place special.”

Promising and lifted, like I had been somewhere lower and someone pulled me up. Krizzy lets out a quiet breath.

“Clara earned her spot.”

“I never suggested otherwise,” Farrah says smoothly. “We all value merit here.”

No one nearby moves, they are listening without looking like they are listening.

“It kind of sounds like you did,” Krizzy says but Farrah’s expression softens, almost sympathetic.

“I think misunderstandings happen when emotions are high.”

“No one’s emotional,” Krizzy says.

“I’m glad,” Farrah replies easily. 

“Attention can be overwhelming, especially when it comes all at once.”

Attention? like I asked for it, but I square my shoulders.

“I’ll manage.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Her eyes stay on mine a moment longer, calm and steady, then shift past me to the students who have slowed nearby. She knows they’re listening and they’ll carry this with them as her smile stays exactly the same.

“I should get to class,” I say, adjusting the strap on my bag. My voice sounds even, which feels like a small victory.

“It was nice meeting you.”

I adjust the strap on my bag and give her a small nod, polite and neutral, the kind of ending that should close a conversation. Farrah’s smile warms slightly, as if she approves of good manners. 

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

But she doesn’t step aside, her orbit remains where it is, forming a loose curve that makes moving forward awkward without looking like I am pushing past them. A few students nearby pretend to check their schedules while staying close enough to hear. Krizzy shifts, ready to move anyway when Farrah tilts her head. 

“I only wanted to introduce myself properly. 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 narrower than it did a minute ago, Farrah smooths a strand of hair behind her ear, still composed.

“The Academy can be generous,” she says.

“But it’s also attentive, since people notice patterns. They notice who spends time with whom and notice when someone new becomes visible.”

Visible —the word settles heavier than the rest.

“It’s a small community,” she continues. 

“Reputations form quickly and sometimes faster than they should.” Krizzy crosses her arms. 

“Are you warning her?” Farrah lets out a soft laugh. 

“Of course not, I’m welcoming her. No one likes feeling unprepared.” Her gaze returns to me, steady and assessing.

“You seem thoughtful,” she says.

“Thoughtful people usually do well here. They understand timing, boundaries and balance.”

Each word lands carefully, placed like it belongs in a handbook no one hands you. I nod because disagreeing would stretch this further, and stretching it would make it bigger than I can afford. Farrah finally steps aside, her smile does not move.

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of you.” And the worst part is, she says it like it’s already decided.