The empty chair across from me—hers—is a black hole.
Mindy sits beside me, as planned.
Tristan and X flank me.
We’re playing our roles.
A girl from the senior dance committee walks by with her little entourage. She’s all lip gloss and fake diamonds and inherited confidence.
“Guess it finally worked,” she giggles. “Scholarship girl couldn’t take the heat.”
Another snickers. “Honestly, good. We didn’t want her here anyway.”
My jaw tightens.
Then the worst one leans down, like she wants me to hear her. “Let this be a lesson to administration. If they want diversity, fine—but make it useful diversity. Hot athletes only.”
They all laugh.
“Yeah!” another girl chirps. “Like a few more six-pack guys wouldn’t hurt. We could have our own version of what Leo had.”
Leo.
Like I’m a commodity.
Like Jade was a toy I broke.
Nausea crawls up my throat.
I make eye contact with Tristan first.
His expression goes dark, sunglasses lowering just enough to reveal the spark of violence in his eyes.
X isn’t far behind—leaning back, sizing up the girls like they’re a problem he’s ready to solve.
Then they both look at me.
I don’t smile.
I don’t joke.
I don’t blink.
“I can’t wait to bring these bitches down,” I say under my breath.
And from the way Tristan grins and X cracks his knuckles?—
neither can they.
Coach Roman corners me outside the gym between third and fourth period.
She doesn’t even pretend to be calm.
“Leo Holt! Office. Now.”
I follow her inside. She slams the door. Hard.
Her jaw is clenched tight, her ponytail swinging like a warning flag.
