The First Morning

Gravemont University. Lucia Carter stood in the mirror, the morning light slicing through the dorm room blinds and brushing against her face like an unwelcome hand. Her hoodie hung loose over her frame, sleeves too long, the cuffs slightly frayed. She reached for her toothpaste, squeezing it with slow, robotic movements, her braces catching the light as she yawned silently.

Her side of the dorm room was neat..minimal. A few books stacked carefully on the desk. A single frame with a photo of her mom and dad, grinning with pride. A sticky note stuck at the top said, "You’ve already made us proud." Her chest ached when she looked at it.

It was 6:30 a.m. Most students wouldn't be up yet. But Lucia was. She always was. Early mornings gave her silence. Time. Room to breathe.

She padded across the cold floor, tying her messy bun tighter. Her phone buzzed with a good luck message from her mom. A little heart emoji. She didn’t reply yet,she didn’t want to start crying again.

The first lecture of the semester was at 8 a.m. and she’d memorized the map of campus, studied building layouts, looked up her professors. She knew the names of the rich kids on the student council and the donors and the founders and the fashion magazine darlings. She knew who owned what. Who ruled. Who didn’t.

She knew exactly what she wasn’t.

Gravemont University’s campus felt like a page from a luxury fashion editorial. Crisp limestone buildings, manicured lawns, and students who looked like they belonged in perfume ads. Lucia walked with her head slightly lowered, her glasses slipping down her nose, hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie. Her jeans were worn but clean. Her sneakers, old but white.

She heard the snickering before she even made it into the lecture hall.

“Who let the janitor’s kid in?” a voice muttered to the left.

“She has braces. That’s so 2009.”

“Is she a worker’s daughter?”

“Bet she’s on a janitor scholarship or something. Or maybe cafeteria staff?”

Lucia didn’t flinch. She didn’t look up. She just walked to the back of the lecture hall and took the seat in the corner. It wasn’t about bravery. It was about survival. Eyes down. Words quiet. Breath steady. That was how you stayed invisible. Or at least tried to.

Her professor arrived and began to speak, but Lucia couldn’t focus. The sting from those words clung to her skin like heat. Her fingers tightened around her pen, but she didn’t cry. Not here. Not now.

The lecture was on social power structures,how ironic. The girl in front of her had a Chanel pen. The guy next to her smelled like Tom Ford. Lucia’s backpack was from a clearance sale and had a broken zipper.

At noon, Lucia ate lunch alone under the old birch tree behind the Arts building. She liked the way the branches whispered. Like the wind was keeping her company.

She pulled out a thermos of homemade tea and a sandwich she packed at sunrise. Her phone buzzed again,another message from mom: "Breathe, baby. You belong."

She didn’t know if that was true. But it helped.

Later, when she walked past the main plaza, she caught a glimpse of them..Oliver Dorian Blackwell’s circle. A group of perfect smiles, designer jackets, champagne laughs. He stood at the center like a sun the world couldn’t stop orbiting.

Lucia didn’t stare. She didn’t even blink. She just walked faster.

They noticed.

One girl, tall with platinum hair, elbowed her friend. “Isn’t that the new nerd girl?”

“Yeah,” the other one smirked. “Monkey girl. I saw her wearing the same hoodie three days in a row.”

“She probably works at the coffee place downtown. We should ask her to clean our boots next time it rains.”

Lucia kept walking.

One boy leaned in with a smirk. “Hey! You drop your braces back there, Carter.”

Laughter. Like glass shattering behind her.

She said nothing. Just one step, then another.

That night, in her dorm, Lucia sat at her desk, typing up notes, ignoring the way her stomach twisted. She touched her braces gently, then opened her drawer and pulled out the lipstick. That same nude tone she wore like armor.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a second.

Then whispered, “One day.”

And that night, she slept with earbuds in, her alarm set for 6:00 a.m.

Because survival wasn't pretty. But she’d do it anyway.

Gravemont hadn’t seen anything yet.

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