Elena’s POV

I knew something was wrong the second I opened my eyes.

The house felt too quiet, like it was holding its breath. Even the birds outside sounded hesitant, their chirping thin and uncertain. That should have been my first warning. The universe always gives warnings. I just have a bad habit of ignoring them.

I rolled out of bed, stretched, and padded into the bathroom, still half asleep. My brain was already running through equations, ideas for my experiment, a new way to stabilize the compound that kept overheating. Normal morning stuff. I turned on the shower, stepped under the warm water, and let myself relax.

For exactly ten minutes.

I hummed to myself while washing my hair, completely unaware that my life was about to take a sharp turn into chaos. When I finally turned off the water and wrapped myself in a towel, I reached for my hair dryer, catching my reflection in the mirror.

And screamed.

Not a polite scream. Not a surprised gasp. A full, soul ripping, throat shredding scream that probably made several birds reconsider their life choices.

My hair was blue.

Not a soft tint. Not a gentle wash. Blue. Bright. Glittering. Like a disco ball and a Smurf had a very bad idea together.

“Oh my God,” I croaked. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

My hands shook as I grabbed handfuls of hair, pulling it forward, turning my head side to side like that would magically fix it. Glitter drifted down onto the sink. I looked like a mythical creature cursed by an idiot.

Blake.

I did not even bother putting on clothes. I ran straight to my window, still wrapped in my towel, fury powering my legs. I yanked the curtain open and there he was. Blake Thornton. Standing at his window like he had been waiting his whole life for this moment.

When he saw me, he lost it. He laughed so hard he had to brace himself on the window frame.

“You absolute menace,” I shouted. “I will plan your death with science.”

He wiped at his eyes. “You look like a glitter Smurf.”

“You are dead.”

“Oh come on,” he said between laughs. “You dropped a frog on my head. This is fair.”

“I did not drop it,” I snapped. “I gently introduced it to you.”

He laughed harder.

I was in the middle of telling him exactly how I planned to dissolve his shoes when my towel caught on the window handle. I turned sharply, still yelling, and felt the fabric yank.

Time slowed as the towel slipped and I froze but then I turned back toward the window and realized Blake was not laughing anymore.

He was staring right at my bare upper body and for one horrible second, neither of us moved.

Then Blake grinned. “Nice titties.”

I flipped him off so hard it might have dislocated something and slammed the curtain shut, grabbing the towel and wrapping it back around myself with shaking hands.

I was going to kill him slowly.

Breakfast was not any better.

My mother sat at the head of the table, perfectly dressed, sipping her coffee like she was judging the world one sip at a time. Victoria lounged beside her, already dressed for school, looking smug in a way only she could.

Her eyes landed on my hair and she inhaled sharply. “What is that,” she said.

“Hair,” I replied flatly.

Victoria snorted. “You look ridiculous.”

My mother's lips tightened. “You embarrass this family daily, Elena. The way you dress. The way you behave. And now this.”

“It washes out,” I said.

“Everything about you feels temporary,” she replied coldly. “Like a mistake that refuses to fix itself.”

My chest tightened. Dad was already gone, of course he was he always missed the worst of it.

Victoria leaned forward. “Maybe if you tried being normal, people would like you.”

I stood up so fast my chair scraped loudly against the floor. “You know what,” I said, my voice shaking but strong. “I am done being your punching bag. Both of you.”

Mother raised an eyebrow. “Watch your tone.”

“No,” I snapped. “You watch yours. I am tired of being blamed for everything wrong in this house while you pretend you are perfect.”

Victoria’s face flushed. “You are insane.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But at least I am honest.”

I grabbed my bag and stormed out, slamming the door behind me hard enough to rattle the walls.

The oak tree at school was old. Thick trunk. Wide branches. It had seen generations of students cry, kiss, hide, and plan revenge. I sat beneath it, breathing in the cool morning air, letting my anger settle into something sharper and more focused.

I was early on purpose. I needed a moment before Joey, Victoria, and Blake arrived to turn my existence into a public event.

When the bell rang, I squared my shoulders and went inside. The laughing started immediately.

Kids whispered, some pointed at me and someone snorted behind their hand.

Blake leaned against his locker, grinning. “Hey Smurf Mamma.”

I rolled my eyes and kept walking.

Math class was worse. The teacher wrote an equation on the board. Wrong. Painfully wrong. I raised my hand.

He sighed. “Yes, Elena.”

“You skipped a step,” I said calmly. “Your answer is off.”

Groans echoed through the room. “Nerd,” someone muttered.

I stood and walked to the board when he asked me to show him. Laughter followed me. Something sticky touched my pants as I sat down for a moment, but I ignored it. I wrote the solution quickly, clearly, explaining each step.

When I finished, the room was quiet. I turned and looked straight at Blake. He was not laughing. He was watching.

Good.

It was Friday and I had plans.

That afternoon, while everyone was distracted by the upcoming football game, I slipped into the boys locker room.

Science favors the prepared.

And Blake Thornton was about to learn that pranks have consequences.