Chapter One: New Beginnings
Cleo could tell the day was going to be different from the moment she stepped into class. The familiar hum of conversation filled the room, desks squeaked as students adjusted their seats, and the teacher stood at the front, waiting to begin. Everything seemed ordinary, but Cleo had a feeling in her gut—one of those odd intuitions she couldn't explain.
“Settle down, everyone!” The Teacher clapped her hands, signaling the start of class. “We have a new student joining us today.”
Cleo’s curiosity piqued as the door swung open, and in walked a girl she didn’t recognize.
“This is Isla,” The Teacher said warmly. “She’s a transfer student. Let’s all make her feel welcome.”
Cleo stared at the girl standing in front of the class. Isla was... striking. Not in the flashy way that some girls at school tried to be, but in a way that felt effortless. Her auburn hair was tied in a loose ponytail, with a few strands framing her face. She wore a slightly oversized denim jacket, a band T-shirt, and scuffed sneakers that looked like they’d seen better days. She wasn’t exactly smiling, but there was a spark in her hazel eyes—like she was observing everything and filing it away in her mind.
The teacher pointed to the empty seat next to Cleo. “You can sit there, Isla.”
Isla walked down the aisle, her backpack slung over one shoulder. As she approached, Cleo sat up straighter, suddenly hyperaware of everything—the squeak of her chair, the way her hands felt clumsy resting on her desk.
“Hey,” Isla said casually as she slid into the seat beside her.
“Hey,” Cleo mumbled, her voice catching in her throat.
And just like that, something inside Cleo shifted.
---
Cleo didn’t know what it was about Isla, but from that moment on, she couldn’t stop noticing her. Isla had a calm energy that drew people in without trying too hard. She was friendly but not overly eager, quick with a witty comment, and always seemed to know exactly what to say to lighten the mood. By the end of the day, everyone wanted to be her friend.
But Isla wasn’t interested in being the center of attention. She seemed to prefer quieter moments, and somehow, Cleo found herself in more and more of those moments.
At lunch, when Isla wandered the cafeteria looking for a place to sit, Cleo surprised even herself by waving her over. “You can sit here, if you want.”
Isla smiled—really smiled this time—and Cleo felt an unexpected warmth bloom in her chest. “Thanks,” Isla said, sliding her tray onto the table.
They spent the lunch break talking about random things: Isla’s move from Oakwood, their shared dislike of math, and their favorite movies. Cleo couldn’t remember the last time she’d clicked with someone so easily.
“So,” Isla said between bites of her sandwich, “what do people do for fun around here?”
Cleo shrugged. “Not much. There’s a skate park, but I don’t really skate. And a lot of people hang out at the mall.”
Isla grinned. “Skate park, huh? I used to skate a little back at Oakwood. Maybe you could come with me sometime. Even if you don’t skate, it’s fun to watch.”
Cleo felt her heart skip a beat. “Yeah… sure. That sounds cool.”
---
Days turned into weeks, and Cleo and Isla quickly became inseparable. It was strange how natural it felt—like Isla had filled a space in Cleo’s life she didn’t even know was empty. They spent almost every lunch break together, sometimes at their usual spot under the oak tree outside, sometimes tucked away in the corner of the library with their books.
Isla had a way of making everything feel exciting, even the most mundane things. A simple walk home after school turned into an adventure, complete with funny commentary on passing strangers and random dares (“Bet you can’t jump that puddle!”). Isla’s presence made the world seem brighter, sharper, more alive.
And for Cleo, every moment with Isla was another thread in a growing tapestry of memories—memories she didn’t realize she’d treasure until long after they were made.
---
One Friday afternoon, Isla invited Cleo over to her house for the first time. “It’s not much,” Isla warned as they walked from the bus stop, “but it’s home.”
Cleo didn’t care. She would have followed Isla anywhere.
Isla’s room was exactly what Cleo expected—messy but in a charming way, with posters of old bands plastered on the walls and a stack of sketchbooks piled in the corner. A small stereo sat on a shelf, softly playing music Cleo didn’t recognize.
“Make yourself at home,” Isla said, flopping onto her bed.
Cleo hesitated for a moment, then sat down at the edge of the bed. She felt strangely nervous, like being in Isla’s personal space was crossing some invisible line, even though Isla didn’t seem to mind at all.
Isla reached for a sketchbook and flipped through the pages. “You ever draw?”
“Not really,” Cleo admitted. “I’m terrible at it.”
Isla grinned. “Me too. But it’s fun, so who cares?” She handed Cleo a blank sheet of paper and a pencil. “Here. Try it.”
Cleo took the pencil, feeling oddly self-conscious. She stared at the paper for a moment, then began sketching a lopsided cat.
Isla leaned over to watch, her shoulder brushing against Cleo’s. “Not bad,” she said with a playful grin.
Cleo felt her heart race at the closeness. She tried to focus on her sketch, but all she could think about was the warmth of Isla’s shoulder against hers, the way Isla’s hair smelled faintly of lavender.
For a brief moment, Cleo wondered what it would be like if they stayed like this forever—if they could always be this close, this happy, without anything changing.
But she knew that wasn’t how the world worked. Feelings were messy, and nothing stayed simple for long.
---
By the end of the night, Cleo didn’t want to leave. As they stood by the door, Isla gave her a quick hug—a casual gesture, but it left Cleo’s heart in a whirlwind.
“See you Monday?” Isla asked.
“Yeah,” Cleo replied, her voice a little too soft.
She walked home that night under a sky full of stars, her heart full of thoughts she couldn’t quite name. Something about Isla felt different—different from any friendship she’d ever had. And that difference terrified her as much as it excited her.
For now, Cleo decided to keep those feelings to herself. There was no rush, no need to define what was happening between them. All she knew was that Isla had become the best part of her day. And for now, that was enough.
