Miles home.
And back to school the next morning. At least the air was crisp enough that I didn’t sweat my makeup off or show up looking like a heatstroke victim.
Inside Royal Oaks, the air was even colder.
The silence cut deeper than whispers ever could.
Girls who used to ignore me now bumped me with their shoulders in the hallway, legs stuck out like snares as I passed. One sneered loud enough for me to hear, "Charity case thinks she’s making varsity now."
Coach Roman expected us all in the locker room before tryouts continued.
It was a war zone.
Glares. Eye rolls. Side comments. More than a few phones pointed my way.
Still—I laced up my cleats, tied my ponytail, and walked out like I belonged.
And then Ikilledit.
Again.
When Coach Roman blew the final whistle and said cuts were coming, the claws came out.
Parents called the school. Howdarea scholarship girl take a varsity spot. They wouldn’t stand for it.
Coach Roman and the admin met them with tact and steel. "You can’t preach inclusion, diversity, and equity and then panic when it’s delivered."
The parents backed off—but not quietly.
And I knew this was only the beginning.
Shani met me after practice, brows raised, arms crossed. "Told you so. You’re poking the princesses."
"They started it," I muttered.
"Yeah, well, they play dirty."
I started the long walk back alone. Again.
Until a sleek Rivian slowed beside me.
The window rolled down. Tristan grinned. "Need a ride, Bryan?"
Leo was behind the wheel.
"No thanks."
"C’mon," Tristan said. "Better us thanthem."
He pointed behind them.
A Mercedes SUV full of girls from the team cruised behind, their windows cracked, eyes narrowed like they were planning my demise.
Leo raised a brow behind his shades. "Unless you want a slow drive-by hazing, might wanna hop in."
I sighed.
And opened the door.
