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Chapter 2 - Chapter Two: Rumors and Bullies

Chapter 2: Rumors and Bullies

The stares started before I even stepped into the room.

I felt them through the door, like static clinging to my skin. When I pushed it open, the conversation stopped—not dramatically, not like in movies—but in that quiet, poisonous way that makes your stomach twist.

I walked to my seat with my eyes on the floor, hoping if I didn't look at anyone, maybe they'd pretend I wasn't there.

No such luck.

When I sat down, there was a note waiting for me on the desk. Just a plain, folded square of paper like a middle school dare. My fingers hesitated, then unfolded it.

He doesn't even look at Mia. Who do you think you are?

I crushed it in my hand before my brain even finished reading the sentence twice. My heart knocked hard against my ribs. I stuffed the paper into the deepest corner of my bag and pretended it hadn't happened.

Nina slid into her seat beside me with a sigh, balancing her books like always. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

She leaned closer. "People are saying things."

I glanced at her. "What kind of things?"

"You and Jace."

I blinked. "Me and—what?"

"They think you're dating."

A short, breathless laugh escaped me. "That's ridiculous."

"Well," she said, pushing her glasses up, "you sat next to him, he handed you a pen, and now you apparently walk in the same direction. That's enough evidence to build a whole scandal at Crestmore."

I didn't reply. What could I say? That I barely knew him? That he didn't even look at me in class unless I dropped something? That all he ever seemed to care about was the view outside the window?

Across the room, Mia Langford sat with her group, her chin in her hand, eyes pinned on me like I was something she wanted to squash between her fingers.

I looked away.

---

By lunch, the whispers had turned into stares. I could feel them like heat on my back as I walked through the cafeteria with my tray. Nina had saved us a spot near the corner, away from the windows.

"Eat fast," she muttered as I sat down. "Mia's been staring you down for five minutes."

"I didn't do anything."

"You don't have to. Existing is apparently offensive now."

I picked at my food, but I wasn't hungry. My sketchpad pressed against the side of my leg in my bag like a hidden comfort. I kept thinking about the note, about how fast things had spiraled after a single seat assignment. I just wanted to get through the day without another scene.

But Crestmore wasn't that kind of school.

---

It happened after sixth period.

I took the long hallway behind the gym to avoid the crowd. The light was dimmer there, the air cooler. Old pipes rattled softly above. I thought I'd made it through.

Then I heard the footsteps.

Mia turned the corner with two of her friends behind her, all in matching smug expressions and too-perfect hair. I froze.

She smiled at me like we were old friends. "Hey."

I didn't answer.

One of the girls stepped forward—Carly, I think—and "accidentally" bumped my shoulder. Hard.

My balance slipped. I crashed against the lockers with a loud metallic thud. My bag hit the floor, and my sketchpad spilled open, scattering drawings across the tiles.

"Oops," Carly said, without a hint of apology.

I dropped to my knees to gather the pages, but Mia stepped on one—hard. The corner of the paper ripped beneath her heel.

"What's this?" she asked, crouching down and picking up a sketch. It was the one I'd done last night—me sitting under a tree, headphones in, trying not to exist.

Mia examined it, her mouth twisting. "You draw yourself being lonely? That's... sad."

"Give it back," I said, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be.

"Why? This is the most interesting thing about you."

I reached for the paper, but she pulled it just out of reach.

Then a shadow fell over us.

Jace.

He stood there in his gym shirt and warm-up pants, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, his hair damp from practice. His face was unreadable, but his presence changed everything.

Mia looked up, startled but trying to keep her cool. "Hey, Jace."

He didn't acknowledge her.

Instead, he looked at the drawing under her foot.

"Pick it up," he said.

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried through the hall like thunder. Mia blinked at him, stunned.

"What?"

He took a step closer. "Pick it up."

The words were sharper this time. Not a suggestion.

Carly shifted uncomfortably. Mia's eyes darted between him and me. Then, without another word, she stepped back and bent to retrieve the page, placing it in my outstretched hand.

I didn't thank her.

Jace knelt beside me and helped gather the rest of my sketches. His fingers were fast, careful, folding the torn edges without crumpling the paper.

When everything was back in my arms, he stood and looked down at me.

"You good?"

I nodded, stunned.

Without another word, he turned and walked down the hallway.

And for reasons I couldn't understand, I followed him.

---

We stopped near the vending machines, out of earshot from the main corridors. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. I clutched my sketchpad to my chest like it was a shield.

He didn't speak right away. Just stared at the floor, then finally said, "Why do you let them do that?"

His voice wasn't angry. Just... disappointed.

"I don't let them," I said, a little sharper than I intended. "They just do it."

"You didn't stop them."

"What was I supposed to do?" I asked. "Fight Mia Langford in the middle of the gym hallway?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Could've said something."

"To who? You? Would you have cared yesterday?"

That made him pause. A long moment passed before he pushed off the wall.

"They're not gonna stop," he said. "Not on their own."

"I know."

He looked at me again, and for a second, the silence between us felt heavy—not awkward, but weighted, like there were things we both didn't know how to say.

"Why?" I asked quietly. "Why do you care?"

He didn't answer. Just stared at me for a beat longer, then said, "You don't have to let them win."

Before I could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving me there with my ruined drawings and a heart pounding too fast.

---

That night, I sat at my desk and tried to redraw the sketch Mia had stepped on. I got halfway through the outline before I stopped.

Something about it felt wrong. Like it didn't belong to me anymore.

I closed the sketchpad and leaned back in my chair. My room was quiet except for the faint sound of my mom humming downstairs as she washed dishes. A warm breeze pushed through the window.

I kept thinking about Jace's voice. The way he'd looked at me.

You don't have to let them win.

And before that—

You good?

Three words that shouldn't have meant anything. But they did.

Maybe because no one else had asked.

Maybe because when he said them, he actually seemed to mean it.

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