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Walking back into school felt like stepping onto a battlefield.

I had only missed one day, but it might as well have been a month. A year.
Everything looked the same—same buzzing lights, same slamming lockers, same echo of laughter and shouting in the halls.

But I wasn't the same.

And the worst part?

Trevor knew it.

I kept my head low, walking fast, trying not to let my eyes meet anyone else's. It wasn't just the usual stares anymore. There was something different in them now—curiosity, suspicion, whispers just out of earshot.

It didn't help that Jasmine and Mia weren't in my first-period hallway.

I was alone.

Until I wasn't.

Because then I saw him.

Trevor.

He was posted up by his locker like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't stolen anything from me. Like I hadn't heard the sound of my baby's heartbeat while knowing he'd never care.

And for once, he wasn't laughing.

He was watching.

Staring.

His expression wasn't smug—not exactly. But it wasn't innocent, either. It was calculated. Like he was measuring something.

My pace slowed.

I told myself to keep walking.

Just ignore him.

But as I got close, he stepped out—blocking my path.

My body went cold.

I froze.

"Hey, Blake."

His voice was too casual. Like this was normal. Like this was nothing.

I swallowed and looked up, just enough to meet his eyes.

"What do you want?"

Trevor tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was something under a microscope.

"You weren't here yesterday."

I fought to keep my voice steady. "So?"

He shrugged. "Just noticed. That's all."

I gripped the strap of my backpack so hard my fingers ached. He was fishing.
Trying to see what I'd told. Who I'd told.

I tried to step past him, but he shifted, just enough to stay in front of me.

"Crazy how fast things change, huh?" he murmured. "One minute we're good, and the next..." He gave a slight, mocking smile. "People start talking."

My chest tightened.
So he had heard something.
Or he thought he had.

"I have nothing to say to you," I said, my voice low, cold.

I tried to walk around him again—but then his voice followed, just barely loud enough for me to hear.

"...Did you miss me?"

The words slithered down my spine like ice.

I stopped walking.

Just for a second.

But that was enough.

He didn't laugh. He didn't smirk.

He just waited—like he wanted to see if I'd turn around.

I didn't.

I bolted.

My feet hit the floor like fire, carrying me around the corner, away from him, from the noise, from everything. My eyes burned.

Because I hated that he still had that power.

And worse—

I hated that I was still scared.

I didn't stop moving until I was in the bathroom, my hands clamped onto the sink so tightly it felt like my fingers might snap.
My chest rose and fell in sharp, panicked waves as I stared at my reflection.
Eyes wide. Pale. Haunted.

I hated this.
I hated that he could still make me feel like I was nothing.
Like I was trapped.
Like I was his shadow.

The door banged open behind me.

"Okay," Jasmine barked, stomping in with her bag swinging off her shoulder. "What the hell was that?"

Mia followed close behind, more quiet but just as serious.
Her eyes scanned my face instantly.

"We saw you run," she said softly. "What happened?"

I swallowed, my throat dry. "Trevor."

That was all it took.

Jasmine's mouth dropped open. "Oh, of course it was Trevor. What'd he do this time?"

I forced myself to look at them. "He just... he was acting weird."

"Weirder than usual?" Mia asked, folding her arms.

I nodded, still trying to settle my breathing. "He stopped me in the hallway. Said he noticed I wasn't at school yesterday."

Mia's jaw tensed.

Jasmine was already cracking her knuckles.

"And then..." I hesitated, my voice dropping. "He asked if I missed him."

Their reactions were immediate.

Mia blinked, her face going pale, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

Jasmine, on the other hand, looked ready to commit a full-on crime.

"Okay, that's it," she snapped. "We're jumping him after school. I'm not even kidding anymore."

Mia shot her a look. "Jasmine."

"No, seriously. I've got fists, and I'm not afraid to use them."

"Jasmine."

"Fine," she huffed. "Plan B. We egg his house. Or at least put glitter in his backpack so he sparkles for eternity."

I gave a weak laugh. It wasn't much, but it slipped out before I could stop it.

Mia touched my arm, her voice gentler. "Emily... you think he knows?"

My stomach twisted.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "But it feels like he does."

The words hung heavy in the air between us.

Mia glanced at Jasmine, then back at me.

Jasmine's expression finally softened, the fire in her eyes dimming just slightly. "Okay. What do you wanna do?"

I closed my eyes for a second.
Tried to picture something—anything—that made sense.

But all I felt was fear.
The hallway. His voice. That look on his face.

"I don't know," I whispered. "I really don't know."

And that... was the truth.

The house was too quiet when I got home.

Which could only mean one thing.

Mom was waiting.

Sure enough, I barely had time to kick off my shoes and drop my backpack by the door before I heard her voice float in from the kitchen.

"Emily."

I froze.

Her tone wasn't sharp, but it wasn't casual either.
It was the voice she used when something needed to be said, and she wasn't going to let it go.

I turned slowly.
She was standing near the stove, arms crossed, her face unreadable.

Yeah.

She was definitely waiting for me.

"Hey, Mom," I said quietly.

She exhaled, and some of the tension in her shoulders dropped, but not all of it.

"Come sit," she said, nodding toward the table.

I hesitated for a beat. Then, reluctantly, I walked over and sat across from her.
The chair creaked beneath me as I folded my hands in my lap, heart already thudding.

She sat down, mirroring my posture—elbows on the table, fingers laced tightly together.

"Did anything happen at school today?" she asked softly.

I looked away.

Because I knew she could read me too well.

I debated lying.
But the truth was still stuck in my chest, and it needed out.

"Trevor was... weird," I said finally.

Her back stiffened. "Weird how?"

I glanced at the table. "He was just... watching me. Too closely. Like he knows something."

She didn't say anything at first.

"He probably does."

I looked up at her, startled. "You really think so?"

She nodded, her voice firm. "He's not stupid, Emily. He knows you missed school. He knows you went to the police. That kind of stuff doesn't stay secret long in a place like this."

I didn't answer.

Because I had been thinking the exact same thing.

Mom leaned forward a little, her voice more gentle now.

"That's why we need to do more."

A cold ripple slid down my spine.

"More?" I asked.

Her eyes met mine—steady, calm, but serious.

"I spoke to a lawyer today."

My heart dropped.
"What?"

"Just to get information," she added quickly, holding up a hand before I could spiral. "About what we can do to protect you. We already made the police report. But there's another option—a restraining order."

The words sat heavy between us.

Restraining order.

That wasn't quiet. That wasn't hidden.

That was serious.
That was public.
That would make it real for everyone.

Including him.

I gripped the edge of the table, my mouth suddenly dry.

"Mom... that means he'll know for sure," I whispered.

She nodded. "I know."

I shook my head. "I'm not ready for that."

She reached across the table, gently taking my hand in hers. Her touch was warm. Grounding.

"You don't have to be ready today," she said. "But we need to be ready soon."

I blinked fast, swallowing the rising panic. "What if this just makes things worse?"

Her hand squeezed mine.

"Then we deal with it. Together."

I stared at the wood grain of the table, tracing it with my eyes like it held answers.

"A restraining order," I said slowly, trying to wrap my head around it. "That's... court, right?"

Mom nodded. "It's a legal process, yes. A judge would have to approve it."

I swallowed hard. "Would I have to talk to him?"

Her eyes softened. "Not face to face. Not unless it went to a hearing. And even then, you'd have support. The lawyer said that in cases like yours, a statement might be enough."

I hated how the word cases made me feel like an exhibit.
A file in a drawer.
Something to be read and decided on.

"And if they approve it?" I asked. "What does it even do?"

Mom kept her voice calm, but I could see the tension behind it.

"It would legally stop him from coming near you—school, home, anywhere within a set distance. If he breaks it, he gets arrested."

I nodded, my stomach knotting tighter with every word.

"But what if he doesn't care?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "What if he breaks it anyway?"

Mom was quiet for a long moment.

Then she said, "Then we call the police. Immediately. And this time, they'd have to act. They wouldn't have the excuse of not enough evidence."

I flinched.

Because she was right.

Right now, it was just a report.
A story.

But a restraining order?
That made it real.
That made me real.
And it meant he couldn't pretend anymore.

But it also meant everyone would know something had happened.
That I had done something about it.

I wasn't sure which part scared me more.

Mom must have seen the hesitation on my face, because she leaned closer and said, "Emily... I'm not doing this to push you. I'm doing it because I want you safe. That's all."

I nodded slowly.

Then asked the only question I could think of.

"...Do I have to decide now?"

She shook her head. "No. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. But soon."

I let out a shaky breath.

"I don't know if I can do this."

Mom gave my hand another squeeze. "Then we'll take it one step at a time."

I knew something was wrong the second I walked into school on Friday.

It was in the way people looked at me—too quick, too curious.
The way conversations hushed just as I passed.
The way every step down the hallway felt like sinking deeper into something I couldn't escape.

And then I saw him.

Trevor.

Leaning against his locker like he didn't have a care in the world.
Like he hadn't destroyed mine.

His eyes locked onto me the moment I appeared.
And that smirk—God, that smirk—curled across his face like he had been waiting for this exact moment.

I looked down and tried to walk faster, heart hammering.

But he was already moving.

He stepped right into my path.

"Hey, Blake."

I stopped.

Not because I wanted to, but because my legs just... wouldn't keep moving.

"Move," I said, my voice low, tight, already fraying.

Trevor tilted his head like a predator sizing up prey. "Aww, don't be like that. Just wanted to check in on you."

My stomach flipped. I knew this game.
It was never just words with him.
It was poison—dripped slow and steady until it seeped into everything.

"Check in?" I repeated, trying to keep my tone even.

He leaned in just slightly, voice curling around the words like smoke.

"I heard you've been busy lately."

My blood turned to ice.

I tried to keep my face blank, but something must've cracked.
Because he saw it.

And his smile widened like he'd won something.

"Yeah, that's right," he said, too loud, too smug. "Heard a little rumor floating around. Something about you and a little... problem growing inside you."

The world tilted.

My breath caught.

It felt like the hallway dropped out from under me.

He knew.

He knew.

And now—so did everyone else.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My throat had locked up.

Trevor's laugh was soft and cruel. "Don't know what I'm talking about?" he mocked. "Come on, Blake. We both know that's a lie."

And then, like he hadn't already shattered enough, he leaned closer.

"Guess you're not as gender fluid as you think, huh?"

The words hit like a slap.
No—worse.
They landed somewhere deeper.
Somewhere that was still raw and trying to heal.

I couldn't breathe.

I wanted to scream.
To run.
To disappear.
But I was frozen.

Trevor saw it.

And he kept going.

"If you were really gender fluid," he said with a fake pout, "you wouldn't be able to, you know... get knocked up."

The noise around us faded.
All I could hear was my pulse roaring in my ears and his voice ripping into everything I was.

He was trying to strip it all away—my identity, my safety, my truth.

And it was working.

Then—

"Trevor, shut the hell up."

Jasmine.

She was suddenly there, standing between us like a fire I didn't deserve.

Mia was right behind her, her voice cold and sharp. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Trevor laughed like it was all just a joke.
Like he wasn't burning me alive in front of half the school.

"Ooooh," he drawled, "getting defensive, are we?"

Mia stepped closer. "Keep running your mouth, Trevor. See what happens."

But he wasn't done.

"All I'm saying is," he said, spreading his arms like he was being reasonable, "if Blake here was really that confused about what she is, this little accident just proved what we all already knew."

I couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't even move.

I felt like I was cracking open right there, in the middle of the hallway, with the whole school watching.

And he knew it.

Tears blurred my vision, hot and angry and full of shame I didn't ask for.
The hallway was spinning.
My lungs felt too tight.

I was breaking.

Right there in front of everyone.

And he loved it.

I should have walked away.

I knew that was the smart thing to do.
The safe thing.
The thing that would let me keep my head down, pretend this didn't matter.

But Trevor's voice...
His words were still ringing in my ears, louder and sharper with every step I took.

**"Guess you're not as gender fluid as you think..."**

No.

No.

I wasn't confused.
I wasn't broken.
And I sure as hell wasn't about to let him twist this into something it wasn't.

So—
I stepped forward.
Right into his space.

He didn't back up, but I saw it—
A flicker. A twitch. Something behind his eyes that wasn't there before.

"Say whatever you want," I said, voice low but steady, even though my heart was hammering in my chest. "Mock me all you want. But nothing—nothing—changes the fact that you're the one who did this to me."

The smirk slid off his face like someone had pulled the plug.

Just for a second.

But it was enough.

Jasmine let out a slow, dangerous smile. "Aww, what's wrong, Trevor? You don't like being called out in front of your little audience?"

Mia tilted her head, arms crossed. "That's funny, because you sure love running your mouth when no one's fighting back."

Trevor scoffed, trying to recover. "Whatever."

But I saw it.

He looked nervous.

For the first time, Trevor looked nervous.

And for one fleeting second—I felt powerful.

Until—

"You're disgusting," Jasmine snapped.

And before I could blink, she lunged.

It happened so fast.

A shove.
Trevor stumbling back, hitting the lockers with a metallic clang.
Gasps from students all around us—some stepping forward, others backing away.
And Jasmine—Jasmine, with fury in her eyes—grabbing his hoodie and yanking him forward.

"You think you can treat people like this?" she shouted. "You think you're gonna keep getting away with it?!"

Trevor shoved her back, hard.

But Jasmine didn't budge.

I looked around frantically—Where were the teachers?
Someone had to see this. Someone had to stop it.

But... no one came.

No teachers. No aides.
No one.

Just students—frozen, watching.

A crowd, building too fast.

"Jasmine!" I gasped, reaching out. "Stop—"

But she didn't.

Because Trevor spat another insult, and that was it.
She swung.

Not hard enough to hurt him, not really—
But enough to shock him.

The slap echoed down the hallway like a firecracker.

Trevor's eyes widened, stunned.

Then Jasmine stepped back, chest heaving, hands balled into fists.

"Touch her again," she said through gritted teeth, "and I swear to God, I'll make sure it's not just words next time."

Trevor didn't say anything.

Didn't move.

Just stood there, stunned and red-faced, too proud to retaliate in front of everyone—too shaken to try.

Mia finally stepped between them, holding Jasmine back. "It's done. He's not worth it."

And for a second... everything went still.

I looked at Trevor.

And he looked at me.

But the smirk was gone.

The bravado was gone.

All that was left... was fear.

Mine and his—mirror images, colliding in the middle of that hallway.

And for once?

His was louder.

By sixth period, everyone knew.

Whispers buzzed through the halls like static, brushing against me every time I passed a cluster of students.

"She really slapped him?"
"No way—Jasmine Blake?"
"Wasn't it about Trevor and that girl—Emily?"
"Wait... isn't she—?"
"I heard she's pregnant."

Every word made my skin crawl.

I kept my head down, pretending I didn't hear, pretending I wasn't shaking.

It wasn't just the usual whispers anymore.
It was me.

And Trevor?

He was nowhere to be seen.

Someone said he skipped last period.

Someone else said he was hiding in the art wing.

Someone else swore they saw him crying in the locker room—but that one might've just been wishful thinking.

I found Jasmine and Mia at our usual spot in the cafeteria.
Jasmine was sitting like a queen in exile—arms crossed, head high, eyes daring anyone to challenge her.

Mia looked up as I sat down, her eyes scanning me immediately.

"You okay?"

I nodded stiffly. "Yeah. Just... hearing things."

Jasmine snorted. "Let them talk."

I looked around.

Everywhere I turned, I saw eyes flick toward me, then away.
Some wide with shock.
Others narrowing with judgment.

"You basically turned him into a ghost," I muttered.

"Good," Jasmine said, grabbing a fry off Mia's tray. "He deserves to disappear."

"But now people are talking," I said quietly.

"They were already talking," Mia replied, calm but firm. "Now they just have a reason to shut up."

I swallowed hard. "Teachers still don't know?"

Jasmine shook her head. "Nope. Not one. Mr. Hall walked by right after it happened and didn't notice a thing."

"Are you gonna get in trouble?"

She shrugged. "Probably eventually. But not today."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"You didn't have to do that," I whispered. "I mean... I'm glad you did, but—"

"I wanted to," Jasmine cut in. "You've been carrying everything on your own. I just wanted to carry some of it for once."

Mia nodded, quieter. "We've got you, Em. No matter how loud the hallway gets."

I sat there, overwhelmed and exhausted, the weight of everything pressing into me—but this time, I wasn't alone beneath it.

And even as the noise swirled around us...

There was silence between the three of us.

The kind that felt safe.

"Jasmine Carter, please report to the principal's office. Jasmine Carter, please report to the principal's office. Thank You." The speaker was loud.

A few students oooh'd under their breath.

Jasmine rolled her eyes like she was being called in for a pop quiz.

She glanced at me before getting up, her voice dry as she muttered, "Guess the fun's over."

I gave her a look—equal parts thank you and please don't punch anyone else.

She gave me a wink in return.

The second Jasmine walked in, she spotted Trevor slouched in one of the chairs, arms crossed, a smug look trying—and failing—to hide the bruise to his ego.

Principal Peterson looked up from his desk, hands folded neatly. "Have a seat, Jasmine."

She did. Slowly. Casually. Like she wasn't even slightly bothered.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

She shrugged. "Nope. But I'm guessing it's not for student of the month."

Trevor let out a fake, offended scoff. "She attacked me."

Peterson's eyes narrowed slightly, turning back to Jasmine. "Is that true?"

She tilted her head, utterly unbothered. "Did he say that?"

"He did," the principal replied.

"Sounds like hearsay," Jasmine said sweetly. "You got witnesses?"

Trevor jumped in. "Yeah. I do. A bunch of people saw it."

Principal Peterson nodded. "And have those students been spoken to?"

There was a pause.

A long one.

Trevor shifted uncomfortably. "They... they were all there. I mean—someone must've said something by now."

Peterson glanced at the secretary's notes. "Funny. We've had five students called in already. None of them saw anything."

Jasmine raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Sounds like selective amnesia."

Trevor turned red. "They're lying!"

Jasmine leaned forward, her voice low and slow. "Or maybe... nobody wants to defend you, Trevor. Ever think of that?"

Principal Peterson cleared his throat. "Regardless of rumors, Jasmine, I need the truth. Did you put your hands on him?"

She gave the principal an award-winning innocent blink.

"Of course not. I might have raised my voice. I might have stood close. But I didn't hit anyone. If someone did, well... I sure didn't see it."

Trevor looked like he was going to explode.

But Peterson just sighed, leaning back in his chair. "At this point, without credible witnesses, I can't move forward with a disciplinary action."

Trevor's jaw dropped. "Are you serious?!"

Jasmine smiled sweetly. "Aw. Poor baby."

Peterson gave her a warning look. "Don't push it."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Jasmine replied, already standing.

Trevor glared at her, but Jasmine didn't even blink.

As she walked out the door, she paused just long enough to glance back at him.

"Next time you run your mouth," she said softly, "maybe ask yourself why no one's willing to back you up."

Then she was gone.

Jasmine was practically glowing with mischief as we sat on the low stone wall behind the gym—the spot we always claimed after the last bell.

Mia raised an eyebrow. "So? Spill. What happened?"

Jasmine flopped down next to me, tossing her bag dramatically. "Oh, you know. The usual. Lies, betrayal, and a red-faced Trevor throwing the biggest man-tantrum of the century."

I smiled, the tension finally easing from my shoulders. "Seriously, though—did he rat you out?"

"Oh, fully," Jasmine said, grinning. "Tried to play the victim card. Told Principal Peterson I attacked him."

Mia's eyes widened. "And...?"

Jasmine shrugged. "And everyone Peterson talked to had a sudden case of selective memory. No one saw anything."

I blinked. "Wait... no one said anything?"

Jasmine held up a finger. "Correction: no one said anything useful to Trevor. You'd think after everything he's pulled, he'd figure out no one's lining up to defend him."

Mia smirked. "What did you say?"

"I said I didn't touch him. Which is technically true." Jasmine smirked. "My palm made contact with his face, but... details."

I laughed—really laughed—for the first time that day.

Jasmine leaned back, arms behind her on the stone wall, watching the sky shift from blue to gold.

"I'm not sorry," she said softly. "Not one bit."

I looked down at my hands, the image of Trevor's stunned expression still vivid in my head.

"I'm not either."

Trevor slammed his locker shut, the echo bouncing hard off the tile walls.

His friends stood awkwardly nearby, but none of them said much. They hadn't all been there during the hallway showdown—but the ones who had?

They were staying real quiet now.

"I can't believe this," he muttered, pacing. "She hit me. In front of everyone. And now she's walking around like nothing happened."

One of the boys cleared his throat. "Uh... maybe just let it blow over?"

Trevor spun. "Blow over? You saw what she did!"

The guy shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "Yeah, but... no one's gonna back you up, man. Not after—everything."

"Everything?" Trevor snapped. "What everything?"

The locker room fell silent.

Trevor's fists clenched at his sides.

No one would say it.
But he could feel it.

Control was slipping.
The smirks weren't landing anymore.
The fear he used to spark in people's eyes?

Gone.

And now?

Now they were siding with her.

With the girl he thought he'd silenced.

The girl who was still standing.

The girl with a voice louder than his, even in a whisper.

His jaw clenched.

If they weren't going to stop her—he would.