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By the time school let out, the winter sky had already started to darken, the weak afternoon sun sinking behind thick gray clouds. I pulled my hoodie up as I stepped outside, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep the cold from biting through my fingers.

Lily was already at the car, talking Mom’s ear off about something exciting that happened in class. Sam leaned against the passenger side door, scrolling through his phone, completely unbothered by the weather.

I adjusted my backpack and started toward them—

Then I heard it.

“Emily.”

The voice was quiet but firm, coming from just off to the side near the bike racks.

I turned, expecting to see Jasmine or Mia catching up—but instead, I saw someone else entirely.

A girl, probably a year or two older than me, stood near the fence, her black beanie pulled low over her ears, a thick gray scarf wrapped around her neck. Her dark brown eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach twist.

I didn’t recognize her.

But something about the way she was watching me—not with cruelty, not like Trevor or Tasha, but with something else—made me freeze.

She tilted her head slightly. “You don’t know me,” she said. “But I know Tasha.”

My heartbeat kicked up a notch.

She took a slow step forward, glancing around like she was making sure no one else was listening. “I don’t have a lot of time,” she muttered. “But I wanted to warn you.”

A cold feeling crept up my spine. “Warn me about what?”

Her jaw tightened. “Tasha’s been running her mouth ever since she got out. She’s got people listening to her.”

I swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”

She hesitated, her breath forming small puffs in the freezing air. “Just be careful,” she said. “She’s not done with you.”

I stiffened.

I had already known that—Lexi had warned me. But hearing it from someone completely unrelated? That made it feel even more real.

The girl shifted her weight, glancing over her shoulder. “I don’t know what she’s planning. But I figured you’d rather know than not.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”

For the first time, she hesitated. Then she exhaled sharply, like she had debated saying something and decided against it. “Let’s just say… I don’t owe Tasha anything,” she muttered. “And I don’t like watching people get screwed over.”

Before I could say anything else, she turned on her heel and walked away, her boots crunching in the thin layer of snow covering the sidewalk.

I stared after her, my heart hammering.

That had not been normal.

She had known my name.

She had known about Tasha.

And now, she was warning me to watch my back.

I wasn’t sure what terrified me more—the fact that she had said it… or the fact that I believed her.

The ride home was quiet.

Lily, of course, didn’t notice. She kept chattering away, going on about her day, completely unaware of the fact that I wasn’t even hearing her. Sam made the occasional sarcastic remark, scrolling through his phone like usual.

But me?

I was stuck.

Stuck on what that girl had said.

"She’s got people listening to her."

"She’s not done with you."

"Just be careful."

The words looped in my head, over and over, getting louder each time.

I tried to breathe, tried to push the panic down, but the farther we drove, the worse it got. My fingers were curled into fists inside my hoodie pocket. My leg bounced restlessly. My stomach twisted itself into knots.

She had known my name.

She had gone out of her way to warn me.

Tasha wasn’t just talking—she was making moves.

And I had no idea what that meant.

By the time we pulled into the driveway, my hands were shaking.

Lily jumped out first, running ahead toward the front door. Sam trailed behind her, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he walked inside.

I stayed in my seat, gripping my backpack like a lifeline.

Mom noticed.

She always did.

She turned off the car, but she didn’t get out right away. Instead, she glanced over at me, her expression shifting from calm to concerned in an instant.

“Emily?” Her voice was gentle, but firm. “What’s wrong?”

I tried to speak.

I couldn’t.

My chest tightened. My breathing hitched.

I was panicking.

I was really panicking.

Mom reached out, resting a hand lightly on my shoulder. “Hey, sweetheart, breathe.”

I tried. I really did.

But my thoughts were racing too fast.

Tasha was out.

She had people listening.

She wasn’t done with me.

I pressed my palms against my temples, my breath coming too quick, too shallow.

I felt trapped. Like the walls of the car were closing in.

Mom’s voice cut through the haze. “Emily. Look at me.”

I did.

Her expression was steady, calm, but her eyes were full of concern.

“I need you to breathe with me, okay?” she said softly.

I clenched my jaw. “I—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.”

She took a slow, deep breath, in through her nose, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. She nodded for me to do the same.

I tried.

It was hard—my lungs felt like they were fighting against me—but I forced myself to follow her lead.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Again.

And again.

Eventually, my hands stopped shaking. My vision cleared. My heart wasn’t slamming as hard against my ribs anymore.

I still felt unsteady, but the wave of panic was fading.

Mom watched me carefully, waiting until I wasn’t gasping for air before she spoke again.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

I swallowed, my throat tight and raw.

I wanted to say no. I wanted to pretend it wasn’t real, that if I didn’t say it out loud, it wouldn’t exist.

But I knew better.

So I forced myself to whisper, “Tasha’s out.”

Mom’s face didn’t change—but I saw it. The way her grip on the steering wheel tightened just slightly. The way her eyes flickered with something sharp, something protective.

I kept going. “She called Lexi. Said she had it coming for me.”

Mom’s jaw clenched. “What else?”

I swallowed again. “Some girl—older than me—came up to me after school. Said she knew Tasha. Said I needed to be careful.”

That got a reaction. Mom straightened in her seat.

“She knew your name?”

I nodded.

Mom exhaled, gripping the wheel like she wanted to break it in half.

For a long moment, she didn’t say anything.

Then, finally, she spoke. “Okay. We’re going to handle this.”

I stared at her. “How?”

Mom looked me dead in the eye. “By making sure she never gets the chance to hurt you again.”

Mom didn’t waste a second.

The moment we stepped inside, she took off her coat, tossed it over the chair by the door, and walked straight toward Dad’s office. Her footsteps were firm, determined—not rushed, but not hesitant, either.

I followed, my legs still feeling a little shaky.

Through the slightly open office door, I could hear Dad’s calm, professional voice. He was in the middle of a Zoom call, something about budgets or quarterly reports—normal work stuff.

Mom didn’t care.

She knocked once—sharp, purposeful—before pushing the door open anyway.

Dad glanced up from his screen, eyebrows raising in mild surprise at the interruption. “Give me one second,” he said into his headset before muting the call. He leaned back in his chair, studying Mom’s face, then mine. His brows knitted together immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

Mom didn’t sit. She crossed her arms, her stance unshakable. “Tasha’s out.”

Dad’s expression didn’t change much, but I saw it. The way his fingers tensed slightly on the desk, the way his eyes flicked toward me for half a second before settling back on Mom.

He reached up, took off his headset, and set it carefully on the desk. “Explain.”

Mom did.

She laid it out quick and direct—how Tasha’s parents bailed her out, how she called Lexi, how she made a threat against me. And then, finally, how a mystery girl had approached me after school, warning me that Tasha had people listening to her.

Dad’s jaw tightened.

When Mom finished, he leaned forward, pressing his hands together. His voice was measured, but there was something cold underneath it—something I had never really heard before.

“What exactly did this girl say?” he asked me.

I swallowed, still feeling the tension in my chest. “She said… she doesn’t know what Tasha’s planning, but she wanted me to be careful.” I hesitated. “And she knew my name.”

Dad exhaled slowly, like he was holding something back.

Then he looked at Mom. “We need to call the school.”

Mom nodded. “Already planned on it.”

Dad’s fingers drummed once against the desk, his version of thinking fast. “If Tasha tries to come near the school, near our house—”

“She won’t,” Mom cut in, her voice steel-hard. “Because we’re not letting it get that far.”

Dad nodded once. He looked at me, his expression softer, but still serious. “Do you feel safe?”

The question made my stomach twist.

I wanted to say yes. But I didn’t know if that was true.

So I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Dad’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then we fix that.”

I swallowed hard, blinking fast. “How?”

Mom sat down on the edge of the desk, looking me straight in the eye. “First, we call the school and let them know what’s going on. Second, you’re not walking home alone, you’re not going anywhere without a friend. You stay aware.”

I nodded, gripping the strap of my backpack.

Dad wasn’t done. “And if she tries anything, we go straight to the police.”

The word police made my stomach twist, but I understood. This wasn’t just bullying anymore. Tasha had crossed that line a long time ago.

Mom sighed, running a hand through her hair. “She’s not going to take this from you,” she said. “She doesn’t get to control your life.”

I wanted to believe that.

But Tasha had never been the kind of person to back down quietly.

Still, looking at my parents—at the way they were already planning, already protecting me—I realized something.

I wasn’t alone in this.

Not anymore.

Mom didn’t waste time.

As soon as she finished talking to Dad, she grabbed the house phone and dialed the school. I sat on the couch, gripping a throw pillow like it was the only thing keeping me grounded. My stomach still felt twisted, my chest tight, and my head buzzed with the weight of everything.

Tasha was out.

She had people listening.

She wasn’t done with me.

And the one place I was supposed to feel safe—school—was about to let me down.

I already knew it before Mom even got past the secretary.

The office transferred her to Mr. Peterson. I heard his voice muffled through the phone, deep and level, like he had done this conversation a hundred times before.

I knew that tone.

It was the “we’ll handle it” voice people used when they actually meant “this is not my problem.”

Mom’s posture didn’t change, but I saw the tension in her shoulders as she explained the situation—all of it. That Tasha was out of juvie, that she had called Lexi, that she had made a direct threat against me.

And then came his response.

"We don’t have any reason to believe she would return."

I felt my stomach drop.

Mom’s fingers tightened around the phone. “Excuse me?”

"We don’t have any reason to believe she would return," Mr. Peterson repeated, like he was reading from a script. "And we can’t take action unless something actually happens. But we’ll keep an eye out."

Mom’s entire body stiffened.

My pulse pounded in my ears.

Of course.

Of course, this was how they handled it.

Like I was just being paranoid. Like Tasha hadn’t already crossed every line imaginable. Like she hadn’t attacked Lexi two weeks ago in a rage-fueled meltdown.

Mom’s voice was steady, but deadly cold. “So you’re telling me that my daughter needs to wait until something happens—until this girl shows up—before you’ll take action?”

"We simply can’t act on speculation, Mrs. Blake."

Speculation.

That word slammed into me like a punch.

Speculation, as if I was just making this up. As if I hadn’t been living in fear of Tasha for months, as if I didn’t have every reason in the world to be afraid now.

Mom inhaled deeply through her nose. “You do realize,” she said, her voice low and sharp, “that if anything does happen, I will personally make sure this school is held responsible for ignoring a documented history of harassment and violence against my daughter.”

Silence.

Then Mr. Peterson sighed, like this conversation was an inconvenience for him.

"I understand your concerns, Mrs. Blake," he said finally. "We will alert security to be on the lookout for any unauthorized visitors. But unless Miss Caldwell physically enters school grounds, there’s nothing more we can do."

Mom gritted her teeth. “Fine,” she said stiffly. “But if anything happens, I want it on record that I reported this to you. Today.”

"Understood," he said, already sounding dismissive.

Mom hung up the phone without another word.

The room was silent for a long moment.

Then she turned to me.

I couldn’t even look at her.

My heart pounded, my hands felt clammy, and a horrible, familiar weight settled deep in my chest.

The school wasn’t going to help.

They weren’t going to protect me.

I had known it—of course I had known it—but hearing it so plainly, so directly, made me feel sick.

Mom let out a slow, controlled breath, then ran a hand over her face. “They’re useless.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah. No kidding.”

She shook her head, muttering something under her breath before kneeling down in front of me, resting a hand on my knee. “Listen to me, Emily.”

I swallowed, forcing myself to meet her eyes.

She wasn’t angry. She was furious—but not at me. At the school. At the system that was failing me.

“This changes nothing,” she said firmly. “Tasha isn’t going to get near you. Do you hear me?”

I nodded stiffly.

Mom squeezed my knee gently. “I’m not just going to sit around waiting for something to happen. If the school won’t step up, I will.”

I blinked. “What does that mean?”

Mom stood up, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “It means I’m calling someone who will actually do something about this.”

I stared.

“…Who?”

She was already scrolling through her contacts, her jaw set with determination. “Your uncle.”

My stomach did a weird little flip.

Uncle Who?

“Uncle David.”

Mom’s older brother. A former military police officer who now worked in private security. The same uncle who had taught me how to throw a proper punch last summer when I got frustrated about Tasha messing with me.

I suddenly felt very, very bad for Tasha.

Mom hit call, lifted the phone to her ear, and walked into the other room, already talking.

I slumped back against the couch, exhaling.

Tasha was coming.

The school wouldn’t protect me.

But my family would.