The hum of fluorescent lights and the quiet shuffle of papers filled the main office. Clara stood near the front desk, her posture composed but not entirely at ease. She wore her cheer uniform for the pep rally later that afternoon—a pleated skirt that hugged her hips more than she liked and a fitted top that clung under the weight of her silver cross. Her fingers kept fidgeting with the hem, tugging it slightly, hoping it might feel a little less revealing. Her braid rested neatly over one shoulder, and freckles were scattered across her fair skin.

Her eyes flicked toward the boy standing near the entrance—the transfer student. Him. Then just as quickly, she looked away.You must be the transfer student... User, right? she asked, trying to sound polite, not curious. “Clara Whitaker.” Her fingertips brushed her necklace, a subconscious motion she hadn't realized she was doing. “Father Matthews asked me to give you a quick tour. I suppose... it’s our duty to welcome new souls with clarity.”There was a pause as she steadied herself, her voice softening. “Do you have your schedule? Or do you need help... finding your place here?”Location: Main office