Chapter 1

Millbrook High School shone like a futuristic castle in the late morning sunlight, its glass walls reflecting the world’s fixation with perfection. The sleek, antiseptic edifice rose tall, its cutting-edge design serving as both a status symbol and an educational institution. Hoverbikes zipped by, leaving a steady buzz in the background as students strolled toward the door. They bowed their heads, their gaze fixed on the luminous holo-screens floating in front of them, their fingers typing rapidly. They lived in a society that valued liking, sharing, and following in addition to mere visibility.

Lemon wove through the crowd, her hands buried in the pockets of her jacket. She went fast, shoulders bent, dodging students like landmines. Her long, black hair flowed in loose waves over her face, masking her keen features but not concealing the resolve in her hazel eyes. Her simple outfit, consisting of a black sweatshirt, trousers, and sneakers, did not make her stand out, which was precisely what she intended. However, at an appearance-oriented school, standing out was the only thing that mattered.

She halted in front of one of the massive holoscreens that covered the wall. It flashed momentarily before settling on the day’s itinerary.

Influencer studies. Makeup for Beginners. Building a brand. Sponsorship Management.

Lemon sneered.

Building a brand? Whatever happened to biology? She thought. Her gaze returned to the screen, where her own little, almost minuscule reflection showed, along with her following count of 512.

Five hundred and twelve. She felt her stomach tightening. It was almost nothing. Lemon was invisible in a school where students fought for tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of followers. She was uninterested in the game, but it didn’t keep her from feeling the weight of her digital irrelevance.

With a groan, she moved away from the screen and started her walk, passing groups of kids who had already begun livestreaming their arrival at school. She couldn’t understand the preoccupation with displaying every detail of their lives as if it were important. She knew better. It did not.

She saw Luxe when she rounded a corner.

Luxe Cavanaugh, the school’s reigning social media queen, strolled down the corridor like it was her own personal runway. Her skin gleamed with the brilliance that only hours of ideal lighting and a well-calibrated filter could provide. Everything about her was controlled, from the waves in her golden hair to the gleam of her flawlessly white teeth. Luxe was not only popular; she was untouchable.

Next to her was Kayla, her right hand, who had a perpetual smirk that made Lemon’s skin crawl. The two of them strode like superstars, creating lengthy shadows as they passed. When Luxe waved at them, a group of younger pupils shouted with delight, as if she had bestowed her attention onto them.

Lemon rolled her eyes. Pathetic.

Luxe’s voice sliced down the corridor, oozing with nonchalant scorn as she addressed Kayla. Can you believe some people still don’t know how to highlight their cheekbones?

Kayla smiled sharply, her tone harsh. It’s almost like they’re asking to be cancelled.

Lemon clinched her jaw. The word cancelled lingered in the air like a menace, and at Millbrook, it was the worst possible outcome. Falling from grace in this realm meant more than simply losing followers; it meant losing everything.

Lemon continued going without gazing at them. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she hesitantly took it out. The screen flashed with her follower count again—512. No new likes. There are no new followers. She tucked it back, ignoring the usual feeling of inadequacy.

The classroom door was in front of her. She pulled it open, feeling slightly relieved to be out of the corridor.

* * *

Lemon took her normal seat at the rear of the room, near the windows through which the sunshine streamed in gentle, hazy shafts. The classroom was already full of activity. Students sat in close-knit clusters, phones in hand, cameras aimed at their perfectly positioned faces. They weren’t chatting to each other; instead, they were vlogging, each kid absorbed in their own digital realm, sharing their daily influencer aspirations.

Lemon sat back in her chair, scanning the room. She did not belong here. She never had. But it wasn’t just the class she didn’t belong in; it was the entire system. Everything at Millbrook revolved around exposure, followers, and engagement, none of which she was interested in.

Ms. Hazel, one of the school’s youngest and most polished instructors, stood in front of the class with a glittering smile that might blind someone. She was everything Millbrook wanted in an educator: vivacious, fashionable, and always on-brand.

Good morning, everyone! Ms. Hazel chirped and flashed her lovely teeth. Today, we’re going to talk about leveraging your brand partnerships.

Lemon barely suppressed a moan. Every class discussed brands, influence, and sponsorships. Real subjects—math, physics, and history—had long been superseded by these false ideas.

Ms. Hazel walked to the front of the room, her heels tapping on the floor as she talked. Remember that your followers are more than simply admirers; they are your cash. How you interact with them will decide your success, both today and in the future.

Luxe, who was seated in the front with Kayla, raised her hand without waiting to be called on. Would you say it’s better to go with an exclusive sponsorship, or should we focus on affiliate links to maximize outreach?

Ms. Hazel’s eyes brightened up. Great question, Luxe. Exclusive discounts can boost your brand’s credibility, but if you want to scale rapidly, affiliate links are the way to go. It’s all about increasing loyalty and volume.

Lemon rolled her eyes before turning to stare out the window. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand it.

Her focus was drawn back as the entrance to the classroom cracked open and Paxton crept inside. He arrived late, as usual, with his hood drawn low over his face. Paxton was unlike the rest, which made him just as much of an outsider as Lemon, but for different reasons. While the other kids competed for attention, Paxton appeared to be trying everything he could to disappear.

He took the seat next to her, his bag thumping hard on the floor. Without saying anything, he pulled out his laptop and began typing frantically. Lemon’s head spun as codes and symbols flashed over his screen.

Lemon leaned in slightly and whispered, Are you seriously hacking something right now?

Paxton did not glance up; his fingers continued flying over the keyboard. I’m just… making sure I stay ahead of the curve.

Lemon shook her head but did not press any further. Paxton had secrets, just like everyone else in this area. But at least his pictures weren’t blasted all over social media.

* * *

After what seemed like an age, the class finished. Lemon was the first out of the door, eager to get away from the oppressive environment of his classes. She checked her phone out of habit; no new alerts. She despised how it still affected her—this gnawing sense of being invisible, despite the fact that she had no desire to participate in the popularity game. The number of followers on her profile served as a continual reminder that she was an unimportant person in this world.

As she approached her locker, a familiar voice rose over the crowd.

Have you heard? There’s going to be an announcement during the assembly, Kayla said, her voice full of anticipation. Luxe walked beside her, smiling smugly.

I bet it’s about the new ranking system, Luxe said, looking down at her phone. We’ll see who’s really popular now.

Lemon’s chest clenched. A new rating system? She’d heard murmurs and whispers about something significant coming to Millbrook, but no one seemed to know what it was. Now it seems like they were going to find out.

As she approached the corner, she noticed Paxton reclining against his locker, his hood still pulled low over his face. He was typing on his laptop, his face a mask of concentration. She could not help but wonder what he had planned.

* * *

The entire school had assembled in the auditorium, the air heavy with excitement and apprehension. Students talked among themselves, their faces illuminated by the light from their phones as they checked their follower numbers one final time before the announcement.

Lemon sat in the back, arms folded, and watched the stage. She despised these meetings. They were little more than glorified popularity contests, meant to keep pupils in line and ensure they understood where they were in the social order.

Principal Ren took the stage, her appearance icy and dominating. She was a tall woman with sharp features and eyes that appeared to cut through the crowd. The audience grew hushed as she approached the podium, her heels softly clicking on the floor.

In a world where social influence determines success, we are embracing the new normal, Principal Ren started, her voice smooth and calculating. Starting today, you will be ranked not just by your academic performance but by your ability to maintain your relevance.

The kids began to mumble, looking uneasily at one another.

Principal Ren twisted her lips into a faint grin. You will need to do more than just get by. You’ll have to stand out.

Behind her, a massive screen sprang to life, showing a live broadcast of the current student popularity rankings. Luxe’s name was on top, closely followed by Kayla. Lemon’s name was barely visible, lingering in the center.

Principal Ren smiled wider. And if you fall too far behind…

The screen changed to reveal the silhouette of a cancelled student, with a scarlet X cut across their face.

You will be cancelled. Permanently. It’s now an issue of survival.

A wave of terror swept over the students. Luxe and Kayla exchanged knowing glances, their smiles growing as if they had already won. Lemon sat back down, her stomach churning.

Paxton, seated a few seats behind her, tightened his hood around his head.

Principal Ren’s words boomed out one more time. Your first poll begins at the conclusion of this week. Good luck.

Lemon pushed her way through the crowd as the assembly concluded and the kids filed out. Her heart was beating. This was no longer simply about the followers; it was a matter of life and death.

She saw Paxton leaned against a locker, his laptop still open and his fingers racing over the keyboard.

You really think you can hack your way out of this? Lemon inquired, her voice low.

Paxton did not look up. I don’t have an option. The system is rigged.

Lemon looked around, noticing the terror and despair on the other pupils’ faces. Everyone was rushing, checking their phones, attempting to find out how to remain relevant.

So, what do we do? She inquired, feeling a knot of fear form in her breast.

Paxton closed his laptop, his expression stern. We play the game… or we get cancelled.

Lemon’s jaws constricted. I’m not losing to a popularity contest.

Then we’ll have to find a way to beat them, Paxton remarked quietly, his gaze drawn to the hall’s holoscreens.

Chapter 2

Lemon sat cross-legged on her bed, holding her phone tightly in her hands. The light from the television bounced off her wrinkled brow, throwing shadows on the walls of her little room. The room surrounding her was unadorned, much like her social feed—plain and modest. Her phone’s screen showed the one number that mattered right now: 512 followers. A figure that has remained constant for weeks or perhaps months.

She felt a sting of frustration in her chest. How had things gotten to this? A popularity contest determines who will survive and who will die. She flung the phone away, feeling a familiar surge of irritation rise to the surface. The phone dropped with a faint thud on her duvet, screen down, yet it pinged again, cutting through the calm of her room.

She looked at it for a long time before picking it up again. The message appeared on the screen like a blow in the gut: Lemon Peterson—Rank: 219/300. The rank was slipping, gradually but steadily, like water emptying from a bathtub. Her chest constricted.

No way in hell am I going down like this, she said under her breath, her voice tinged with a determination she wasn’t sure she felt.

She threw the phone on the nightstand, the notice still glowing. Her attention shifted to the window, where the night sky was hidden by the glaring neon brightness of the town’s tall billboards. Even in the seclusion of her own room, the outside world seeped in, watching, waiting, and judging.

Lemon buried her face in her hands and then ran her fingers through her knotted hair. How was she expected to keep up? She had no urge to live-stream every meal or share meticulously planned moments from her life with the world. But in this town, in this strange game they were all compelled to play, it made no difference.

* * *

The next day, Main Street was alive with tense energy that appeared to seep into the cracks in the pavement and whirl around the businesses. The residents gathered in tiny, hushed groups, murmuring quietly as they cast hesitant looks at the giant digital billboards that towered over the town center. The identical message appeared across all screens:

Millbrook Social Experiment—lock-down BEGINS.

Cancellation is imminent.

The word CANCELLED glowed ominously beneath the sentence, a brilliant red light of death hovering over the town like a guillotine.

Lemon strolled through the crowd, head down, attempting to avoid the attention of strangers and neighbors alike. People began to regard each other differently, and distrust hung in the air like smoke. Friends turned on friends, and everyone looked at each other’s social rankings, wondering who would fall next.

At the corner, she saw her mother, Claire, waiting outside their favorite coffee shop, nervously scanning through the town’s online forum. Claire’s creases around her eyes were deeper today, and her customary strong face was shattered with fear that she rarely showed.

Lemon approached softly, catching glimpses of murmured discussions among bystanders.

Can you believe they’re actually doing this? Cancelling the kids?

I heard someone was dropped in the ranks last night.

Her mother did not glance up as Lemon approached to stand by her.

This can’t be real, Claire mumbled, flicking her thumb quickly across the screen. Are they really doing this?

Lemon nodded, her eyes fixated on the sidewalk. It’s real. If we don’t keep up, we’re done.

Claire eventually laid the tablet down on the little café table, her face contorted with surprise. She stared at her daughter with unusual tenderness in her eyes.

I never thought I’d say this, Claire began, her voice low and straining, but… you need to play their game, Lemon.

Lemon blinked, taken aback. Her mother was always the one to dismiss social media culture as garbage and a waste of time. Hearing her say this now made me feel betrayed.

You’ve always hated all that social media crap, Lemon remarked, barely above a whisper.

I do, Claire confessed. But if this is the world today, you can’t lose. Do you hear me?

Lemon gulped hard, her throat tightening. She didn’t want to play the game. But what options did she have? The world had moved beneath their feet, and all they could do now was attempt to survive.

* * *

Luxe relaxed on her luxurious velvet sofa, swiping through her phone with the practiced calm of someone who knew she was loved. The dazzling, antiseptic white of her living room shone with the frigid sheen of perfection—every inch tailored to resemble the setting of a high-end photo shoot. Luxe’s thumb flicked across the screen, her look bored and satisfied. She was at the top of the standings and intended to remain there.

Across the room, Valerie paced in front of the big floor-to-ceiling windows, her heels tapping forcefully on the glossy tile floor. Every now and again, she cast an apprehensive glance at Luxe, her face engraved with a worried expression.

Luxe, honey, Valerie replied, her voice high-pitched from tension. You should make a live broadcast right now. You need to keep those numbers up. Engage your followers! Make certain they understand you’re still—

Mom, relax, Luxe said, without even looking up from her phone. I’m already on top of the standings. Everyone is talking about me.

Valerie’s pace did not halt. If anything, everything grew more frenzied.

Top isn’t good enough, she said, her voice rising. "You need to stay on top. What if somebody else comes