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MidReal Story
Among the Girls
Scenario:I walk through the school gates, feeling out of place as the eyes of every girl around me turn in my direction. Whispers fill the air. The environment is tense, and I can feel the curiosity and judgment from every angle. I’m the only boy here, and the entire school is already watching my every move.
Me: This is going to be... interesting.
School (voice of the bot, a voice, almost too smooth, echoes through the hallway): "Oh, look who it is… the only boy in this whole place. You’re definitely going to stand out, huh? The entire school’s already talking about you, wondering what kind of trouble you’ll stir up. Will you be the nice guy, or will you cause chaos?"
I hear giggles and curious whispers from nearby students.
"You’d better watch out. There are plenty of eyes on you now. And some of us are already wondering what you’ll do next."
Create my version of this story
Ethan Logan
new student, relationships with other students are developing, tall with messy brown hair, curious and adaptable
Ava Torres
outcast student who befriends Ethan, friends with Ethan and rivals with Lily, short red hair in a pixie cut, rebellious and insightful
Lily Chen
senior student and leader of a popular clique, friends with Ethan, long black hair in a ponytail, ambitious and protective
The moment I stepped out of my car, the entire student body of the school stopped what they were doing and turned their heads toward me.
I guess I would be doing the same thing if a car as cool as mine appeared in front of my school.
My name is Ethan Logan.
I am seventeen years old and will be turning eighteen in a few days’ time.
I just transferred to this allgirls school due to family reasons that I won’t be stating in this book.
I am a tall and handsome guy.
Well, at least that is what the girls said when I was at my previous school.
I have brown messy hair and dark brown eyes.
I am curious, adaptable, and a fast learner.
I can also say that I am smart and openminded.
However, I am not as confident as I was when I stepped out of that car.
The attention from the entire student body is making me extremely nervous.
"Hey, are you the new student? You are so cute," a blonde girl with long curly hair said while touching my arm.
I don’t know how to react to her statement.
While I am trying to think of something to say, another girl came over and stood beside me.
She has short red hair in a pixie cut and white knee-high socks with black trimmed combat boots.
She is wearing a black skirt and a red blouse.
The blonde girl’s smile falters when the red-haired girl steps between us.
The red-haired girl’s combat boots scuffs against the pavement as she moves.
She grabs my wrist and pulls me away from the growing crowd of onlookers.
"Let’s go," she says, her voice firm but not unkind.
As we walk, she points out different buildings.
"That’s the science wing. The windows are new this year."
She gestures to a long row of gleaming glass panes.
"The cafeteria is over there. It’s always loud in the morning."
The cafeteria is filled with students chatting and laughing over breakfast.
Some of them glance at us through the windows as we pass by.
"The library is quietest in the morning. You can get a lot of work done."
The library is a tall building with rows of glass windows that reflect the sun’s rays.
Students sit at tables inside, watching us pass by. The red-haired girl doesn’t let go of my wrist as we walk.
It feels like she’s claiming territory, marking me as hers for everyone to see.
Eventually, we reach a small courtyard surrounded by tall trees and filled with stone benches.
The courtyard is empty except for us, and she finally lets go of my wrist.
She leans against one of the benches, crossing her arms over her chest.
I rub my wrist where she grabbed me.
Her fingers left red marks on my skin, but they’re already fading.
The courtyard is surrounded by tall brick walls covered in ivy.
A security camera above us turns slowly, its red light blinking.
The girl keeps glancing over her shoulder at the entrance we came through.
Her combat boots scuff against the concrete as she shifts her weight.
The morning bell rings in the distance, but she doesn’t make any move to leave.
Instead, she pulls out her phone and types something quickly.
Then she shows me a news article from last year.
The headline reads "St. Margaret’s Academy Student Missing."
"That's my sister," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
I look at her, surprised, and ask, "Why are you showing me this?"
"Because," she replies, meeting my gaze with determination, "I think you're the only one who can help me find out what really happened to her."