Novels by Maya Vale

The Party The door flew open before she could spiral too far.“Norah!”Mary tumbled in, curls bouncing, face flushed from the cold. She was clutching a crumpled flyer like it was treasure. “Party tonight! Off-campus. Big house, music, lights. You’re coming.”Norah blinked. “What? Tonight?”“Sí, tonight.” Mary dropped the flyer on her lap. “And no excuses. You’ve been hiding in here like a monk. This is college, not a convent.”Norah laughed nervously. “I’m not much of a party person.”Mary gasped, hand to her chest. “Not a party person? Dios mío, this is your first year. You can’t spend it buried in books while brujas like Rose walk all over you. You need to be seen.” She narrowed her eyes, lips curving. “And maybe let a few boys fall in love with you.”“Mary!” Norah covered her face, cheeks burning.Mary only grinned, already at her closet. “You are not walking in there with those grandma sweaters. No, no. Tonight, you shine.” Mary dove into the closet, tossing clothes everywhere. H

The First Week The first week didn’t let me breathe . The very next morning, she started in.I was just trying to cut across the quad, holding my books close, when I heard her.“Watch it, new girl,” Rose said, loud enough so half the lawn turned.She was smiling—big, fake, like she wanted people to think it was a joke. But it wasn’t.The girls with her laughed too, all at the same time, like they’d rehearsed it.My face burned, but I kept walking. Chin up, don’t stop. If I stopped, she’d win. If she wanted me to cower, she wasn’t going to get it. At least not where anyone could see.But by lunchtime, the whispers had started multiplying like smoke.“She spilled her drink on him on purpose.”“Classic attention seeker.”“As if Ivan Thomas would ever look at her twice.”Rose didn’t have to do much. A smirk in the hallway, a hand brushing her perfect hair, a sentence dropped just loud enough to carry. She fanned the flames, knowing exactly how to let the rumors grow legs.At the cafeteri

The Meeting The first week in the city felt like walking inside a dream someone else had written for me.The campus was too wide, too lively. Stone buildings reached higher than the roofs back home, their shadows cutting across lawns dotted with students who moved like they’d been born here. Laughter and chatter overlapped everywhere, a hundred voices tangled in one restless hum. The air even smelled different—coffee drifting from the café by the library, grass sharp under the sun, and the faint exhaust of cars groaning along the busy road that framed the gates.Kim hadn’t seemed fazed at all.“Norah,” she said, looping her arm through mine, “I don’t care if my school’s across the city. You’re stuck with me every weekend. Shopping, food stalls, maybe even a club if I can drag you. Don’t argue—you’ll thank me later”.Kim’s grip on my arm was so tight I almost winced. Like she thought holding me that way would make her promise stick. I rolled my eyes, but the smile still came. Couldn’t

Chapter Two Someone shouted my name.“Norah!”I froze. The platform was all noise and bodies pushing past, but that voice cut straight through. I knew it.Then I saw her—Kim.Of course it was Kim.She was waving like a maniac, pushing through people like the crowd was just air. Taller than I remembered. Or maybe she just stood taller now, like the ground was hers. Black ponytail yanked high, bouncing behind her head, not even a strand slipping. The kind of thing that would look messy on me, but on her? Perfect. Show-off perfect.The yellow top she had on nearly burned my eyes—it was that bright. Tight, too. And the jeans? Ripped at the knees, hugging every inch like they were made for her. Definitely city clothes. Nobody back home would wear that without aunties whispering. But Kim—she didn’t care. She never did.She didn’t even give me a second. One moment I was standing there, the next she slammed into me, arms tight around my shoulders. My bag slipped, almost fell. My ribs squeake

The Journey The truck shook so bad it almost threw me out of the seat. Old thing never liked the road. I leaned my head on the window. Cold glass. It steadied me more than the seat did, and God knows the seat never stopped shaking. Cold. At least steadier than the seat.Outside, the sky was waking up, pale at the edges. I saw myself in the window. My own eyes looked too wide, lashes twitching every time the tires slammed into another hole. I hated that. I looked nervous.Dad had one hand on the wheel. His fingers started drumming on the dash, the way he always did when the quiet stretched too long. Not a song, not even a rhythm, just tap… tap-tap… like he couldn’t sit still. Every so often his eyes cut toward me, quick, like maybe I wouldn’t notice. I did. Of course I did. He’d never been good at hiding things. Quick ones. Like he thought he might catch my thoughts if he moved fast enough.“You don’t look half as happy as when that letter showed up,” he said finally. His voice was ro