Life ain't easy and it might not be fair.

From Scars to Salvation.

Hallie pressed her forehead to the cool window of her mom's minivan, watching the campus come into view like a scene from a movie she'd played in her head a hundred times. Wide lawns. Ivy-covered buildings. Students laughing under trees like something out of a brochure. Her stomach fluttered with a mix of nerves and thrill.

"This is it," her mom said gently, pulling the car into the unloading zone.

Hallie turned to her with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah," she said. "It's finally happening."

They hugged longer than either of them planned to. Her mom's hand lingered on her shoulder before she climbed into the car and drove away, shrinking in the rearview mirror until she disappeared altogether. Hallie stood alone on the curb, her suitcase at her feet, heart thudding in the sudden quiet.

She thought this was going to be amazing.

Everything in high school had pointed here—honor roll, class president, friends who signed her yearbook with "You're gonna crush it at college!" It was supposed to be the payoff. The freedom. The fun.

But by the end of the first week, Hallie already knew she'd been wrong.

Her roommate was glued to her phone, barely acknowledging her. The campus that once looked magical now just seemed enormous and indifferent. She got lost twice on the way to her lectures. No one noticed.

The girls in the dorm walked in tight little circles, whispering and laughing like they'd known each other forever. Hallie tried introducing herself a few times, but every smile she gave was returned with polite indifference or distracted nods. Her texts to high school friends went unanswered for days. The silence stung more than she expected.

One night, she sat in her desk chair, staring at the corkboard she had decorated with pictures of home, and wondered if something was wrong with her. Or if maybe—just maybe—college wasn't everything they said it would be.

It was only week two.

And she already wanted to go home.
Tuesday came with gray skies and a steady drizzle. Hallie walked to her afternoon lecture with her hood up, earbuds in, and the kind of numb heaviness that makes everything feel slow. It was Intro to Psych—her "easy A," according to the course description—but she already felt three weeks behind.

She slid into a seat near the back, hoping to disappear. That's how it had been lately: a kind of daily survival where invisibility felt safer than trying and getting brushed off again.

As the professor launched into a lecture about the stages of development, Hallie tried to focus, jotting notes even though her mind wandered. She was about to zone out completely when someone slid into the seat next to her.

She didn't look up at first. But then a soft voice said, "Do you understand any of this?"

Hallie glanced sideways. The girl wore a faded red hoodie, the hood still up, curls spilling out from underneath. She looked tired, like she'd just sprinted across campus—and maybe life. Her eyes, though, were clear and curious.

Hallie blinked. "Not really," she admitted.

The girl gave a relieved laugh. "Good. I thought I was the only one."

Hallie cracked a small smile. The first in a while.

"I'm Kenzie," the girl said, holding out a hand.

"Hallie."

They shook. Simple. Unremarkable. But something about it cut through the fog.

Kenzie leaned over and whispered, "This professor talks like he's explaining the universe to aliens."