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The week after I turned in my essay was... weirdly normal.

No Instagram drama. No hallway whispering. No Trevor launching himself into orbit via gravity protest.

Just school. Classes. Life.

Which obviously meant something had to go wrong soon.

And, right on schedule, it happened in history class.

Mr. Langford had just finished droning on about the American Revolution, and I was counting the seconds until the bell rang, when he suddenly got this bright, dangerous look in his eyes.

"I've got a surprise for you all," he said, like that sentence ever leads to anything good.

Groans immediately echoed around the room.

Mr. Langford grinned like a man who lived for teenage suffering. "No, no—it's not a quiz. We're going to play a review game."

A few students perked up.

Then he said the words:

"History Jeopardy."

Half the class actually cheered. I just sighed.

Mr. Langford split us into teams—randomly, of course—and the moment he called out the names, I knew karma had a twisted sense of humor.

"Emily, Trevor, Marcus, and Rina—you're Team 2."

Trevor, from the other side of the room, let out an exaggerated groan. "Seriously?!"

"Believe me," I muttered, "I'm not thrilled either."

We all moved into our team huddles. Marcus just wanted to win. Rina didn't care. I just wanted to get it over with.

Trevor, on the other hand, immediately took over.

"I'll do the answering," he announced. "I'm, like, amazing at this stuff."

"Are you, though?" I said under my breath.

Trevor glared. "I literally watched a whole documentary about the Revolutionary War on YouTube last night."

"Oh, wow. A whole YouTube documentary? Impressive."

Trevor rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just let me handle it."

Fine by me.

The game started. Mr. Langford asked questions, teams buzzed in, and somehow we didn't completely crash and burn during the first round.

Then came the question that changed everything.

"Team 2," Mr. Langford said. "Your turn to choose."

Trevor stepped up like he was on actual Jeopardy. "We'll take Founding Fathers for 400."

Mr. Langford read the clue:

This founding father was known for his experimentswith electricity, his writing, and his iconic kite and key story.

Trevor slammed the buzzer. "GEORGE WASHINGTON!"

Silence.

I blinked. "Wait... what?"

Mr. Langford raised an eyebrow. "Incorrect. Anyone else?"

From across the room, Jasmine hit her buzzer. "Ben Franklin."

"Correct."

The class laughed.

But Trevor wasn't done.

"Wait—what? Are you sure? I thought Washington did the lightning stuff."

"No," I said, trying not to laugh, "he was busy being the first president, not getting electrocuted by kites."

Someone in the back howled.

Trevor's face turned bright red. "That's not even what I meant!"

Mr. Langford moved on, but the damage was done.

By the end of class, people were whispering, "George Washington and the electric kite," and making buzzing sounds whenever Trevor walked by.

I hadn't meant to embarrass him.

But, y'know.

It was kind of hard not to.

Especially when he made it that easy.

As we left the classroom, Trevor shoved past me. "You think you're so smart."

I raised an eyebrow. "No. You thought you were smart. I just read the textbook."

Trevor clenched his jaw. "You'll regret that."

"Okay, George." I gave him a little wave. "Watch out for storm clouds."

Behind me, Jasmine and Mia lost it.

And just like that—

I was back on Trevor's enemy list.

Again.

It didn't take long.

By lunch, Trevor was already plotting.

I could feel it the second I walked into the cafeteria. He was sitting at his usual table, whispering something to Kevin and a few of his tag-along friends. They all looked at me, then started laughing.

So subtle. So clever.

Mia raised an eyebrow as we passed by. "He's up to something."

Jasmine snorted. "Oh, good. I was worried we'd make it a full day without another Trevor meltdown."

We sat down at our usual table, and I unwrapped my sandwich, pretending I didn't notice Trevor watching me like some cartoon villain waiting for his evil plan to kick in.

Then it happened.

Trevor stood up on top of his bench. Not the table this time—growth, I guess. He cleared his throat dramatically and held up a sheet of paper.

"Attention, students of Jefferson Middle!" he declared, his voice ringing across the cafeteria.

"Oh no," I muttered.

Mia whispered, "Here it comes..."

"I have written a poem," Trevor announced, "dedicated to a certain someone who thinks they're smarter than everyone else. Someone who thinks mocking true patriots is funny."

Jasmine choked on her juice. "Is this really happening?!"

Trevor raised the paper and began to read, in a tone so serious he might as well have been reading Shakespeare:

"There once was a girl who thought she was wise,
Withher little fake smile and two different lies.
She thinks she'sclever, a real smarty-pants,
But deep down inside, she's juststuck in a trance!"

The cafeteria went dead silent.

Then someone from across the room shouted, "What is this, a weird slam poem from 2012?!"

Trevor flushed, but kept going.

"She laughs at the brave, she mocks the strong,
Butdon't worry—her jokes won't last long.
For justice willrise, and I will not fall—
Because I'm the realhero of this school hall!"

You could hear a pin drop.

Then...

From another table, someone slow clapped.

Slow.

Loud.

Sarcastic.

Then Jasmine stood up, still clapping. "Trevor, wow. That was... deeply embarrassing."

Mia was wiping tears from her eyes. "Is that... is that supposed to rhyme?"

I stood up too, holding my tray like a trophy. "Okay, George Washington. You just wrote a rap battle against yourself."

More laughter.

Trevor's ears were burning.

He crumpled the paper in his hand. "You're all just jealous!"

"Jealous of what?" Jasmine said. "Your ability to rhyme 'pants' with 'trance'?"

Someone shouted, "Do a freestyle next, Trevor!"

Kevin leaned over from his table and said, "Dude, maybe just... stop talking for the rest of lunch?"

Trevor let out a dramatic huff and stomped back down onto the bench. His heroic poetry slam? Instantly forgotten.

Except by everyone.

Because by the time the bell rang, someone had already posted a video of the entire thing, captioned:

"When your villain origin story is a lunchroomlimerick"

Trevor was seething.

Me?

I just took another bite of my sandwich and smiled.

Because I didn't mean to make him look like a fool.

But honestly?

He did all the work for me.

Later as the last bell rang for the day and the halls were packed—shoulder-to-shoulder chaos, backpacks swinging, people shouting over lockers, and at least three teachers trying (and failing) to keep everyone moving.

Jasmine and I walked side by side, weaving through the crowd like pros.

I was mid-rant about our math quiz when I spotted a crumpled piece of paper on the floor near the drinking fountain.

"Oh my gosh," I whispered, nudging Jasmine and pointing. "Is that...?"

She leaned closer, squinting. "No way. That's the poem."

We looked at each other.

And then we lost it.

I couldn't help myself. I grabbed my water bottle and held it like a microphone.

"There once was a girl who thought she was wise," I recited in the most dramatic voice I could muster, "with her little fake smile and two different lies!"

Jasmine nearly doubled over. "Two lies? Just two? Someone's feeling generous."

"She mocks the brave! She mocks the strong!" I added, doing a fake gasp. "But don't worry, because Trevor's rhyming is so wrong!"

Jasmine wheezed. "You're going to make me choke."

We were both laughing so hard we had to stop walking.

And that's when I saw him.

Trevor.

Standing just a little further down the hallway, near the stairwell, pretending to dig through his locker like he wasn't very obviously listening.

His shoulders were stiff. His jaw was clenched. His knuckles were white on the locker handle.

He didn't turn around.

He didn't say anything.

But I saw the way his eyes flicked toward me—just once—before he slammed his locker shut and stalked down the hall like a storm cloud in sneakers.

Jasmine noticed too.

"Uh-oh," she murmured. "You think he heard you?"

"Oh, he definitely heard me," I said, still catching my breath.

Jasmine bit her lip. "Do you think he's gonna do something?"

I shrugged. "It's Trevor. He'll probably write another poem. This time with three lies."

But as I watched him disappear into the crowd, a little chill crept down my spine.

Because Trevor might've stayed quiet...

But he didn't walk away like someone who was done.

He walked away like someone planning something.

And that?

Didn't sit right with me.

Mom was outside like always waiting for me. I made it to the car, before Lily and Sam. I see them running behind me.

I opened the car door and slid into the front seat, tossing my backpack at my feet. Mom smiled at me like she always did, eyes kind and calm behind the windshield.

"Hey, sweetheart," she said. "Good day?"

I started to answer, but before I could say a word, the back doors flew open and Lily and Sam practically launched themselves into the car.

"We made it!" Lily gasped, dramatically throwing herself across the seat.

Sam flopped in beside her, a little out of breath. "She sprinted like it was a track meet," he said, nodding at Lily. "Nearly knocked over a sixth grader."

Lily didn't even deny it. "I earned this seat."

Mom chuckled as she pulled out of the pickup lane. "Alright, gladiators. Seat belts."

As we rolled out of the parking lot, I stared out the window, watching students scatter across the sidewalk like ants. But I couldn't stop thinking about the look on Trevor's face.

Quiet.

Focused.

Dangerous in a way I wasn't used to from him.

Not loud. Not obnoxious.

Just... cold.

Mom noticed my silence. "You okay, Em?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just... tired."

She gave me a look—the kind of look that said she didn't totally buy it, but wasn't going to push right now.

Lily, still catching her breath, glanced at me. "Did something happen?"

I hesitated.

"Not really," I said. "Just Trevor being Trevor."

Sam groaned. "Again? Can't he like... fall into a sinkhole or something already?"

"Sam," Mom warned, but she was smiling.

Still... I couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming.

Trevor wasn't finished.

Not by a long shot.

The house felt too small tonight.
Too loud. Too tense. Too off.

I sat at the dinner table, picking at my food while Sam and Lily chattered on about something I couldn't focus on. Mom asked Sam about his art project, and Lily was rambling about a fantasy book she started, but none of it landed.

All I could think about was Trevor.

The way he looked at me in the hallway.
The way he didn't say anything.
The way it felt like silence meant something worse was coming.

I wasn't scared, exactly. Not in the "check the windows, turn on the lights" kind of way.
It was deeper than that.
Like I was bracing for something I couldn't see yet.

I just needed space.
A little air.
Somewhere quiet, where I didn't feel like the walls were pressing in.

"Emily?"

I blinked, looking up.

Mom was watching me, her smile gone. Replaced by that soft, worried look I knew too well.

"You haven't touched your dinner," she said gently.

"I'm not really hungry."

Sam and Lily quieted down. Mom leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Is something going on?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm just... tired."

She didn't look convinced.

I pushed back my chair. "I think I need to get some air."

That was when her expression changed.

She straightened up, lips pressing into a firm line. "It's already getting dark, Emily."

"I won't be long."

"You can sit outside on the porch."

"I just... I need to walk. Think."

Mom stood up now, her voice low and serious. "I don't like the idea of you walking around at night. Not with how things have been lately."

"I'll stay close," I said. "I won't go far."

"Emily—"

"I just need ten minutes, okay?"

We stared at each other for a moment—her worry meeting my restlessness.

I knew she was just trying to protect me. But I also knew if I stayed in this house one more second, I'd explode.

Finally, she exhaled through her nose and sat back down. "Ten minutes. Phone on. You text me if you're not back in fifteen."

"I will."

I grabbed my jacket and slipped outside before she could change her mind.

The door clicked shut behind me.