𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 ─ nathan scott

let the light in

𝐈𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥, 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐱: jocks, cheerleaders, nerds, popular kids. But what about the ones who don't fit into any of these categories? The ones who walk the hallways as though they're not a part of the game at all? The outcasts. They're the ones who refuse to follow the script, who break away from the traditional cliques they're expected to gravitate towards. In a world where everyone's trying to be part of something, the outcasts are content to be apart from everything.

Maybe the outcasts are the ones who see high school for what it really is—a temporary bubble where fitting in seems like the most important thing in the world. While others spend years perfecting their image, curating their friends, and climbing the social ladder, the outcasts watch from the sidelines. They're the observers, the ones who question why it all matters so much.

But what if high school isn't about fitting in at all? What if, by not conforming, the outcasts are actually the ones with the most freedom? The freedom to be themselves without the burden of expectations. Maybe the rest of them, stuck in their cliques, could learn a thing or two from the ones who refuse to play the game. Because in the end, who really wins high school—the ones who fit in or the ones who stand out?

It was a normal day at Tree Hill High. The kind of day where the most exciting thing on Emiliana's mind was whether or not the latest gossip about Rachel was true. She walked down the hall with Brooke and Peyton, their arms casually linked as they laughed, enjoying the lighthearted moments in between classes. The usual chatter filled the hallways—students laughing, locker doors slamming, and the general chaos of high school life unfolding around them.

"Wait, did you hear about Rachel and Tim?" Brooke asked with a grin, leaning into Emiliana. "Apparently, they were seen leaving a party together. Shocker, right?"

"Oh God, Rachel's working her way through the entire basketball team," Emiliana laughed, shaking her head. "And to think she was trying to make fun of me for Tim's stupid time capsule."

"Hey, maybe she's just giving them 'team spirit,'" Peyton teased, rolling her eyes as they approached the doors that led to another hallway.

But just as Emiliana was about to push the door open, something through the glass caught her eye. Her laughter died on her lips, and her hand froze mid-air. Jimmy Edwards was standing on the other side of the door—his eyes wild, his expression unreadable, but what made Emiliana's heart stop was the gun he held. And it was pointed directly at her.

Everything slowed down, as if time itself had hit the brakes.

Brooke and Peyton stopped mid-step, their eyes widening in horror as they followed Emiliana's gaze. The three of them stood there, frozen, hands instinctively reaching for each other. There was no mistaking the fear that shot through them, a raw, chilling terror that gripped them so tightly it was hard to breathe.