The next morning started like any other. Mrs. Blake dropped me off at school, her usual warm smile accompanied by a cheerful "Have a good day!" easing some of the lingering weight from the day before. I offered a small smile in return, gripping the strap of my backpack a little tighter as I stepped out of the car.

The cold air nipped at my face as I trudged up the steps, the chatter of students buzzing around me like static. Inside, the halls were their usual bustling chaos—lockers slamming, laughter bouncing off the walls, kids huddled in clusters sharing stories about their weekends or gossiping about whatever drama had unfolded last.

I kept my head down as I made my way to my locker, hoping to make it through the morning unnoticed. The weight of yesterday still clung to me, despite Mr. Peterson's reassurances and the consequences he had handed down to Tasha and Lexi. Part of me wanted to believe it was over, but another part knew better. Things like this didn't just end overnight.

A few curious glances were thrown my way as I spun my locker dial, but no one said anything outright. Maybe they were still processing what had happened. Maybe they were waiting for the next spectacle. Either way, I felt the eyes on me, like an invisible pressure pressing against my back.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was exhausted.

The cafeteria was its usual mess of clashing voices, the smell of greasy food lingering in the air. I grabbed my tray and made my way to my usual spot with Jasmine and Mia, my feet dragging slightly. The familiar sight of my friends already sitting there, deep in conversation, made me feel a little lighter.

Jasmine looked up the moment I sat down, her eyes filled with curiosity. Here we go.

"So," she said, leaning in slightly, her voice low enough not to be overheard, "what happened yesterday? I heard Tasha was arrested and expelled."

"And Lexi was suspended," Mia added, pushing her tray aside. "Well, just for today. But I heard she's on lunch duty for the next two weeks after winter break."

I sighed, setting my tray down and peeling back the wrapper on my sandwich. "Yeah, Mr. Peterson told me about it this morning."

Mia shook her head, her expression a mix of anger and disappointment. "Tasha deserved it. Honestly, I think Lexi did too, but I guess it's good she's trying to make up for it."

Jasmine rested her chin on her hand, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

"I hope this all dies down soon. I'm tired of being everyone's target." I cried.

Jasmine's expression turning serious. "You're not alone, Emily. We've got your back."

Mia nodded in agreement, her eyes sharp. "And if Trevor tries anything, you let us know."

I forced a small smile, even though my stomach twisted at the mention of Trevor. "Thanks," I murmured.

As if on cue, a familiar voice rang out from across the cafeteria, loud enough to cut through the noise.

"Hey, Emily! Enjoy your little victory?"

I tensed instantly, my body stiffening at the sound of Trevor's voice.

Mia turned her head, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Oh, hell no," she muttered.

I swallowed hard and slowly turned my head. Trevor was lounging at his usual table, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. A smirk curled at his lips, but his eyes held something darker—something angry.

I didn't answer.

Trevor clicked his tongue, shaking his head like I was some disappointment. "What, you run to the principal and suddenly think you're untouchable?"

A few heads turned in our direction, students catching onto the tension. My stomach clenched, but I forced myself to keep my expression blank.

Jasmine scoffed, rolling her eyes. "She is untouchable, you idiot, because Mr. Peterson actually does his job."

A few students snickered at that, but Trevor's expression darkened.

"Careful, Jasmine," he sneered. "You don't want to get dragged down with the freak."

My heartbeat hammered in my chest.

Before I could react, Mia shot up from her seat so fast that her chair screeched against the floor.

"Say that again," she challenged, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Trevor's smirk faltered just slightly. "What, you gonna hit me?" he taunted, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes now.

"No," Mia said coolly. "Because unlike you, I have self-control." She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice just enough to be menacing. "But if you ever call Emily that again, I swear I'll make sure you regret it."

The tension in the air was suffocating. Even the nearby tables had gone quiet, eyes darting between Mia and Trevor like they were watching the buildup to a fight.

Trevor opened his mouth, but before he could spew whatever insult he had lined up next, a sharp voice cut through the silence.

"Trevor Matthews!"

Everyone turned to see Ms. Caldwell, the lunchroom monitor, striding toward us with a no-nonsense look on her face. She'd clearly heard everything.

Trevor paled slightly, but tried to play it off, leaning back with a forced laugh. "We were just talking, Ms. Caldwell."

Her eyes narrowed. "Enough. Principal's office. Now."

A chorus of quiet "ooohs" rippled through the cafeteria as Trevor stood, his face red with embarrassment. He mumbled something under his breath, but didn't dare argue.

As he slinked off, his friends avoided eye contact, clearly not eager to follow him down that road.

Mia sat back down, still seething.

"Asshole," she muttered, shoving her tray away.

I let out a shaky breath, my hands trembling slightly beneath the table. I didn't realize I had been gripping my jeans so hard until I forced my fingers to unclench.

Jasmine nudged me gently. "You okay?"

I swallowed, nodding. "Yeah," I said, though my voice was hoarse.

Mia crossed her arms, still glaring in the direction Trevor had gone. "That was a warning," she muttered. "Next time, he won't get the chance."

I couldn't help but smile, despite everything. "Thanks," I whispered.

Jasmine wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Always," she said with a grin. "We're your people."

The afternoon dragged on, each class blurring together in a haze of half-listened lectures and notes I barely processed. My body was in the room, but my mind was elsewhere—still turning over the confrontation at lunch, still feeling the echoes of Trevor's cruel words, and still wondering what was coming next.

By the time the bell rang for gym, I let out a slow breath, pushing my chair back and slinging my backpack over my shoulder. I wasn't in the mood for dodgeball or whatever physical activity the teacher had planned today, but skipping wasn't an option.

I changed into my gym clothes in the locker room, keeping my head down as the other girls chatted and laughed around me. My fingers fumbled slightly as I tied my sneakers, my stomach twisted with unease. I had spent months dreading gym class because of people like Trevor, and even though today had been different, part of me was still bracing for the worst.

When I walked into the gym, my eyes immediately scanned the room, instinctually searching for Trevor. He was on the other side, leaning against the wall with a group of boys, his arms crossed over his chest. For a brief second, our gazes met.

I tensed, expecting some sort of smirk, sneer, or even a whispered comment under his breath. But instead, something strange happened.

Trevor looked away.

Just like that. He barely even acknowledged me, turning his attention back to the guys around him. His expression was unreadable—not anger, not amusement, not even annoyance. Just... blank.

I frowned. What's he up to?

"Alright, let's go, let's go!" The gym teacher's voice boomed across the room, breaking through my thoughts. "Warm-up laps! Move it, people!"

I fell in line with the rest of the class, jogging around the perimeter of the gym. My legs felt heavy, my mind distracted as I risked another glance at Trevor. He was running a few feet ahead of me, his posture stiff, his usual cocky energy missing.

I should've felt relieved.

But I didn't.

Gym class continued, rolling into a game of dodgeball. Normally, I hated this part—being forced into a fast-paced game where kids loved to target the weakest players. I usually tried to stay in the back, dodging as long as possible before inevitably getting hit.

Today was no different. I stayed along the edges, dodging and ducking when I had to. I wasn't the worst player, but I wasn't aggressive enough to actually aim for anyone. I just wanted to make it through the period without drawing attention to myself.

Jasmine, on the other hand, had no such reservations. She was in full warrior mode, nailing opponents left and right, her competitive streak shining through.

It wasn't long before the teams had dwindled down to just a handful of players on each side. I noticed Trevor still standing, a ball in his hands, but he wasn't doing much with it. In fact, he hadn't thrown a single ball the entire game.

He was just... standing there.

Weird.

The final whistle blew, signaling the end of the match, and I let out a slow breath of relief. At least I had survived without incident.

Jasmine jogged over to me, her face flushed from running. "Did you see that?" she asked breathlessly.

"What?" I asked, wiping sweat from my forehead.

"Trevor," she said, tilting her head in his direction. "He didn't say anything. Didn't even look at you."

I glanced toward him again. He was walking back toward the bleachers, his posture tense. His friends were talking, laughing, but he barely responded.

"Yeah," I murmured. "I noticed."

Jasmine crossed her arms, her expression suspicious. "I don't trust it."

"Me neither," I admitted. "It's not like him."

"You think he's scared?" Jasmine asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe," I said, though deep down, I wasn't convinced. Trevor wasn't the kind of person to just stop tormenting someone overnight. He was cruel, but he was also calculated. His silence felt more unsettling than any of his insults.

Like the calm before a storm.

The gym teacher called for us to hit the showers, and I sighed, already dreading the awkward rush in the locker room.

"Be careful," Jasmine said as she grabbed her water bottle. "Trevor might be quiet now, but I don't think he's done."

I nodded, casting one last glance at him before heading to the locker room.

Something told me Jasmine was right.

Silence wasn't always a good thing.

The final bell rang, echoing down the crowded hallways as students rushed to their lockers, eager to escape for the day. I took my time packing up, my fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the zipper of my bag as I processed the strange quietness of the day. No taunts from Trevor. No glares from Tasha—well, she wasn't even here. No whispering behind my back that made my stomach coil with anxiety.

It was... peaceful.

Jasmine and Mia waited for me at the entrance. Jasmine nudged me with her elbow. "Made it through another day, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, adjusting my bag over my shoulder. "It was quiet."

Mia smirked. "Suspiciously quiet."

"I know." I exhaled, my breath fogging slightly in the cold air as we stepped outside. "I should be happy about it, but it just feels weird. Trevor never shuts up."

"Maybe he finally got a brain cell and realized he's a loser," Jasmine said, rolling her eyes.

"Or he's planning something," Mia muttered, her expression darkening slightly. "I don't trust him, Emily."

I didn't either. But what could I do except wait and see?

The cold wind bit at my cheeks as I scanned the parking lot, spotting Mrs. Blake's car idling near the curb. Relief settled over me at the sight of her—this place had been my battlefield all day, and now I was finally going home.

"I'll text you later," Jasmine said, pulling her scarf tighter around her neck.

"Yeah, and let us know if Trevor does anything stupid," Mia added.

I gave them both a small nod before heading toward the car. Mrs. Blake smiled as I climbed in, the heater blasting warm air that instantly made my fingers sting as they adjusted to the change in temperature.

"How was your day?" she asked, her voice filled with her usual calm warmth as she pulled away from the curb.

"Better," I said honestly, leaning back against the seat. "Quiet."

She nodded, merging onto the road. "Sometimes quiet is good."

I stared out the window as we drove, the winter sky already dimming as the sun lowered behind the trees. The town felt still in a way that mirrored my own exhaustion—like it was winding down with me.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't carrying the weight of someone else's cruelty. No insults burned in my mind. No fresh wounds throbbed from cruel hands.

It wasn't much.

But today, it was enough.

I let my eyes drift closed for just a moment, listening to the soft hum of the engine and the occasional beep of the car's turn signal.

Home. That was where I was heading.

And for once, I didn't feel like I was running away from something.

The smell of fresh snowfall clung to the air as we stepped inside, the cold melting away as warmth from the heater embraced us. Mrs. Blake slipped off her coat, shaking a few stray snowflakes from her sleeves before hanging it up by the door. The house was quiet except for the faint crackle of the fireplace in the living room, casting soft flickering shadows along the walls.

She stretched her arms with a small sigh. "Alright, let's see what we've got for dinner tonight," she said, rolling up her sleeves and heading toward the kitchen, her usual sense of calm filling the space.

Something inside me stirred—a feeling I couldn't quite name, but it was warm and persistent. I didn't just want to sit back and watch tonight. I wanted to do something. Something that made me feel a part of all of this, not just someone being taken care of.

"Wait," I said quickly, stepping forward before she could start pulling things from the fridge. "You've done enough. Why don't you go sit in the living room and take it easy? I'll make dinner tonight."

Mrs. Blake paused, arching an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, standing taller. "Absolutely. I can handle it."

She studied me for a moment before a warm smile spread across her face. "Well, if you insist," she said, her tone teasing but kind. "But call me if you need help."

"I won't need help," I said, grinning. "You'll see."

With that, she grabbed a book from the shelf and settled into the armchair by the fireplace. I could hear her chuckling softly as she flipped through the pages, her presence in the other room making the house feel even cozier. There was something about knowing she was there, trusting me with this, that gave me an unexpected sense of confidence.

I stepped into the kitchen, rolling my sleeves up just like Mrs. Blake had, and surveyed the pantry. Something simple but filling. Something warm and comforting for a snowy evening. My eyes landed on a familiar blue box—macaroni and cheese.

Perfect.

Lily loved it, and honestly, I did too. It was a meal that felt like home, something easy but satisfying. Something safe.

I grabbed a pot and filled it with water, setting it on the stove to boil. As I waited, I rummaged through the fridge, deciding to add a little something extra to make it taste even better. A splash of extra milk, a generous knob of butter—things I'd seen Mrs. Blake do a hundred times before.

The kitchen was warm, the steam rising from the pot, the faint bubbling sound oddly soothing. As I stirred the noodles, a small sense of pride welled up in me. This wasn't a big deal, not really. It was just mac and cheese. But for the first time, I wasn't just sitting at the table while someone else made the meal. I was making it.

I drained the noodles carefully, then mixed in the cheese sauce, stirring until everything was creamy and smooth. The smell alone made my stomach growl.

Taking a deep breath, I scooped generous portions onto plates and carried them to the dining table.

"Dinner's ready!" I called, hoping it tasted as good as it smelled.

Lily was the first to bound into the kitchen, her eyes lighting up the second she saw what was on the table.

"Mac and cheese!" she squealed, practically bouncing in place. "You're the best, Emily!"

Mrs. Blake walked in behind her, looking both amused and impressed. "Well, this is a treat," she said, taking her seat at the table. "Thank you, Emily."

Sam sauntered in, eyeing the bowl of mac and cheese with a smirk. "Alright, let's see if it's as good as Mrs. Blake's."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help smiling. "Just try it."

We all sat down, and for a moment, I held my breath as everyone took their first bite.

Lily let out a dramatic mmm! before giving me a thumbs-up. "Best mac and cheese ever."

Sam shrugged, chewing thoughtfully before nodding. "Not bad."

I laughed. "I'll take it."

Mrs. Blake smiled as she twirled some noodles onto her fork. "You did a wonderful job, Emily."

We ate together, the usual chatter filling the room as Lily rambled about a book she was reading and Sam debated the best video game strategies with himself. I listened, smiling, laughing in the right places, but mostly just soaking it in—the simple, comfortable feeling of being here, with them.

For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like a visitor. I felt like I belonged.

After dinner, as Lily and Sam rushed off to play, I stayed behind to help Mrs. Blake clear the table. We worked side by side, rinsing dishes and wiping down the counters.

"You did a wonderful job tonight," she said, her voice warm.

I shrugged, suddenly feeling a little shy. "It's just mac and cheese."

Mrs. Blake turned toward me, her expression soft but serious. "It's more than that, Emily."

I looked up at her, confused.

"You're finding your place here," she said gently. "It's not about the meal. It's about you stepping into something, making it your own. It's about showing love, just in a different way."

Her words settled over me like a blanket, warm and reassuring.

I hadn't thought about it that way before, but as I looked around the kitchen, at the empty plates and the lingering warmth of shared laughter, I realized she was right.

It wasn't just about making dinner.

It was about showing up.

For them.

For myself.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, offering a small smile. "Thanks, Mrs. Blake."

She reached over, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You're welcome, sweetheart."