“Convenient one.”
Her head tilted, glossy hair catching the light—weaponizing charm in motion. “Don’t look at me. Maybe people just don’t like you.”
My grip tightened on the clipboard until the edge cut into my palm. Rage rippled beneath my skin, begging to be unleashed. But I didn’t flip the table, didn’t storm out. Not here. This wasn’t just sabotage. This was a message.
So I sat. I listened. I pretended to take notes while Elise dictated centerpieces and Quinn scribbled silent auction ideas. Every laugh Elise let out made the coil inside me wind tighter.
By the time I walked out, I knew two things: Elise had her claws back in. And she wasn’t going to stop until she buried me.
The fallout started before first bell the next morning.
My phone buzzed. Unknown number. No contact photo. Just a message:Bold move talking shit to the wrong people. Screenshots don’t lie.
Cold slid down my spine. My thumb hovered over the screen, pulse hammering. Screenshots? Of what? For one beat, I almost didn’t open it—as if not looking could keep it from being real.
Then I tapped. Attached was a screenshot. My face in the DM header. The message:
Quinn’s such a try-hard. Can’t she take a hint and shut up?
I froze. Not because I believed it, but because I knew everyone else would.
Another buzz.
Stefanie’s nothing but a knockoff. Wish she’d get the memo.
Then another.
Avery only hangs with me because she needs someone to make her look better.
Each one burned hotter than the last.
By the time I reached the locker bay, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—pings stacking one after another as screenshots flew. Girls forwarding them. Group chats lighting up. By the time I shoved it into my pocket, the damage was already everywhere. The screenshots made it look as though I’d trashed reputations. Sent threats. Spread lies. Elise’s name was carefully absent from every single one.
The whispers started before I even rounded the corner. Several pairs of eyes cut toward me, wide then narrowing. Conversations dropped low, punctuated by stifled laughter. A group by the lockers broke into quiet giggles, one girl holding her phone out as a spotlight, angling it so I would see. My face glared back at me from the screen.
My jaw locked. Fury burned low and steady. Not fear. Not shame. Rage.
I shoved my books into my locker harder than necessary, the clang echoing. If Elise thought this would make me crumble, she hadn’t learned a damn thing.
But the circle tightened anyway. Girls pressed closer. “Guess she thinks she’s untouchable again. Some people never learn.”
One of them reached out, nails catching the light—claws aiming for my arm.
“Hey.” Luke’s voice sliced through the noise. He didn’t shout, but every head turned.
And then he stepped in beside me, tall, steady, all command.
“If any of you believe that crap,” he said, calm but edged in steel, “you’re dumber than I thought.”
The silence was immediate. They froze then peeled away one by one, unwilling to meet my eyes.
I exhaled slow, the rage still simmering in my chest. I wanted to swing back on my own. I didn’t need saving.
Luke’s eyes locked on mine. “You good?”
“I’m pissed,” I said flatly.
The corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Better answer.”
