By the time Madison made it to her first class, her face still burned. The weight of a hundred stares clung to her like glue. She slid into a desk at the back, wishing the ground would swallow her whole.
She hadn't even spoken to Jaxon Reed, not really. He'd just picked up her book. That was it. But at Westbridge High, even crumbs turned into stories.
The whispers started before the teacher even arrived.
"She totally planned it."
"Did you see how she touched his hand?"
"Layla gonna destroy her."
Madison pressed her palms against her desk, knuckles whitening. Ignore them. Ignore them.
"Hey."
She glanced sideways. A boy with messy dark hair and kind eyes had slid into the seat beside hers. He wasn't dressed in designer clothes—just a plain hoodie and scuffed sneakers.
"You okay?" he asked.
Madison blinked. Nobody had asked her that today. "Uh… I guess."
He offered a small smile. "I'm Eric. Scholarship student too. Trust me, it gets easier once you stop caring about their opinions."
Madison managed a tiny laugh. "Easier said than done."
Before Eric could reply, a sharp click of heels echoed from the doorway. Layla Carter entered the classroom like it was a runway. She didn't even look at the teacher—her eyes went straight to Madison.
Madison stomach dropped.
Layla didn't say anything. She didn't need to. The smirk, the tilt of her chin, the way she took the desk directly in front of Madison—it was a warning.
A declaration.
This is my territory.
The teacher started the lesson, but Madison barely heard a word. Layla sat perfectly still, scrolling through her phone under the desk. The occasional stifled laugh from her friends told Madison enough: she was already the subject of a group chat.
When the bell rang, Madison tried to escape quickly, but Layla moved faster, blocking the door.
"You think you're clever, don't you?" Layla voice was soft, sweet, meant only for Madison ears. "Falling in front of Jaxon? Making him play hero?"
Madison stiffened. "That wasn't—"
Layla leaned closer, perfume thick and suffocating. "Stay away from him. He's mine. And girls like you? You don't survive long here."
The words sliced deeper than any laughter. Layla brushed past her, flipping her hair as though nothing had happened. Her court of friends followed, snickering.
Madison stood frozen. Her chest ached, her pride burned, and yet—
A flicker of stubbornness sparked inside her.
She hadn't asked for Jaxon's help. She hadn't planned any of this. But if Layla thought she could scare her into silence…
Maybe Westbridge High was about to learn that the scholarship girl wasn't as easy to crush as she looked.