Chapter four: Ia bruja

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 cafeteria line: “Some girls will do anything to get noticed.”

In the library: “It’s sad, really. Desperate Sometimes she wouldn’t even stop walking. She’d just pass close enough that her perfume hit me in the face and say, low but sharp,

“He doesn’t even remember you.”

She didn’t have to shout. That was the worst part. She knew how to drop it in just the right way so people around could still hear, then pretend it was nothing. And of course, they ate it up. People started looking at me different. Not saying anything out loud, just those quick side glances, the little smirks when I walked into class. By the end of the week, it felt heavy—like I couldn’t breathe right whenever she was around.

The only person who seemed to really see it was Mary.

“Eh, chica,” she said that night, voice rolling in that soft mix of Spanish and American. She was stretched out on her bed, hair spilling everywhere like fire, looking straight at me.. “If you keep walking around with that long face, people will think you murdered someone.”

I shot her a flat look. “You’re not helping.”

“Of course I'm helping,” she teased, grinning. “I make you laugh.” She tilted her head, eyes glinting. “Besides… tell me again how Ivan smiled at you.”

I groaned, covering my face with my pillow. “Mary.”

She sat up, clutching her heart like I’d wounded her. “Ay, don’t do that! You know how rare it is? He never smiles. Never! But to you—he does. You know what this means?”

“That I looked ridiculous, and it amused him?” I muttered.

Her green eyes widened, her accent thickening as she wagged her finger. “No, no, no. That you are special, mi amiga. He is… how do you say? Untouchable. Like a star. And yet—” she snapped her fingers—“he looked at you.”

I laughed despite myself, which only made her smirk wider. Mary’s laughter was warm, her presence grounding. Without her teasing, I think I might have drowned in Rose’s whispers completely.

By Saturday morning, the tension still clung to me, but the dorm suddenly burst alive when Kim arrived.

“My baby cousin!” she yelled, pulling me into a hug that nearly cracked my ribs.

Mary raised her brows, then laughed. “So this is the famous Kim. I see the resemblance—big smile, big energy.”

Kim collapsed onto my bed like she owned it. “Alright. Who do I need to fight?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” she said, already reaching for the snacks on my desk. “I know that face. Somebody’s messing with you.”

Mary leaned in, accent curling like smoke. “Her name is Rose. Too much perfume. Too much poison.”

Kim’s mouth dropped. “And you’re letting her get away with it?”

“It’s not like that,” I said quickly.

Kim leveled me with a look. “It is like that. You’ve been quiet since we were kids, Norah, but here? Quiet just makes you a target. You need to stand your ground.”

Mary clapped her hands together. “Sí! This is what I’ve been saying. We will not let la bruja ruin your week.”

“La what?” Kim asked, frowning.

“Witch,” Mary translated with a grin.

Kim smirked. “I like that. Yeah, the witch can choke on her own perfume for all I care.”

Mary leaned back, eyes narrowing playfully. “And maybe, Rose is jealous.”

“Jealous?” I frowned.

Mary grinned wickedly. “Oh, come on. You bump into the most handsome boy on campus, and he smiles at you? For Rose, that is the worst nightmare.”

Kim blinked, confused. “Wait, wait, wait. Handsome boy? Who’s this?”

Mary leaned in, dramatic as always. “Ivan Thomas. Tall, stormy, dangerous. Girls whisper about him like he is a myth. And guess what? He smiled at her.”

Kim gasped, delighted. “Norah! One week here and you’ve already landed the campus legend?”

I buried my face in my hands. “It’s not like that. I spilled a drink on him. That’s all.”

“And he smiled,” Mary repeated firmly. “He doesn’t smile.”

Kim laughed so hard she almost fell off the bed. “Oh, this is too good. The shy freshman and the untouchable Ivan Thomas. No wonder Rose is sharpening her claws.” We stayed up late, just talking and joking around. At some point, chips and cookies were flying across the bed, and I laughed harder than I had since I got here. For once, the week didn’t feel so heavy.

By the time Sunday rolled around, it felt like the weekend had barely started.. Kim hugged me tight before heading out, her words fierce in my ear.

“Lift your chin. Don’t let anyone write your story for you.”

The door closed behind Kim. Click. And then… nothing. Just me and the silence.I was slouched on the bed, just kind of staring down at my shoes. Kim’s words were still stuck in my head, going back and forth until it was making me tired.

The door suddenly slammed open.

Mary burst in, hair sticking everywhere, panting like she’d sprinted the whole hallway. She was clutching some wrinkled flyer, shaking it in my face like, “look what I found.”

“Norah!” she squealed, dropping onto my bed. “Guess what? There’s a welcome party—at the other college down the road. Music, dancing, everything. And we are going. No excuses.”

She shoved the paper into my lap, her accent thick with excitement. “No more hiding, chica. This is our chance.”

My heart wouldn’t slow down. Maybe it was fear, maybe something different. But one thing was clear—the week wasn’t finished with me.