Nobela ni Marymartina

The call wasn’t nice, so what could it be? This was just her second day in Blue Ville, so why was she already being summoned?She stepped into the hallway, which stretched before her like a tunnel—long, silent, and cold. The faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzed above, feeding her growing unease. A few students passed by, their eyes flicking toward her, faces frozen in surprises and silent judgment. Each step she took echoed louder than the last, as if the walls themselves were listening.By the time she got to the office door, Stacey was already sweating and trembling. She wiped her palms on her trousers, drew a shaky breath, and stepped in.The principal’s office was bright and polished. A tall shelf filled with trophies gleamed in the corner. The blinds were partially drawn, filtering the sunlight into angled stripes on the tiled floor. The air smelled like lemon polish and faint printer ink.Her legs froze on the spot as she came face-to-face with her mum, who glared at her.“Mum

Blue Ville came into view as Stacey parked her grandfather’s bike in the student lot. She couldn’t believe she had to show up here again. Not like she had any choice. All she really wanted was to hide in her bedroom until the whole mess with that stupid video blew over—or her mother finally gave in and transferred her to another school.“Hi.”Stacey turned and saw a chubby girl with kind eyes smiling at her. Stacey blinked, her brows furrowing in confusion.“I’m Lily. You ran out of Literature class yesterday.”“Oh my goodness—have you come to mock me?” Stacey’s face turned red, her heart skipping.“No. You ran out before I could even talk to you. I was the girl next to you.”Stacey’s mouth dropped into a small “oh” as recognition sparked. She remembered her—the girl who’d tried to speak up, but her voice was drowned out by laughter and shame.“I’m Stacey,” she said softly.They stared at each other for a moment, a fragile smile forming between them—like the beginning of something uns

“Quick, Stacey, let’s go.” Her mother barged into the room, her voice clipped and brisk. She stopped cold at the sight of Stacey still curled under the duvet, her back turned stiff and silent. “Young lady, what is going on here?” Her voice tightened like a pulled thread, thick with rising irritation. She matched across the room in her white hospital scrubs, yanking the duvet off Stacey’s body with one swift, practiced motion—like she was confronting a stubborn patient who refused to cooperate.Stacey didn’t flinch. Her jaw was locked tight, her eyes dry but burning, and her body coiled with defiance.“Stacey, I do not have time for your drama right now. I am running late,” her mother barked.Stacey remained curled up, chin raised slightly as if daring her to say more.“Stacey!” her mother snapped, her voice rising in frustration.“I’m not going. Isn’t that obvious?” Stacey shot back, each word edged with heat.“Stacey, I said I do not have time—”“Then you can go,” Stacey cut her off

She didn’t even know how she got home.One second, she was seated in literature class, waiting for the teacher to come in — and then Monica humiliated her. Her ears had rung with laughter. The next minute — she was sprinting. Past classrooms. Down stairwells. Through the gates. Her lungs burning. Her feet pounding concrete. Her eyes blurred with tears.She didn’t stop until the house appeared.Her legs had brought her here on autopilot, fueled by embarrassment and panic.I can’t go back there… Not tomorrow. Maybe not ever.I should have faced that bitch. Now she’ll think she won.The sound of clattering pans snapped her out of her thoughts.The sound of clattering pans snapped her out of her thoughts.She yanked open cabinet doors in the tiny kitchen, her hands moving with frustrated urgency. A pan of eggs sizzled on the gas stove, smoke already curling from the edges. She rose, clutching a small pot, her face still stiff with the sting of humiliation.“You just an old naughty man…”S

Heat flushed her face. She kept her head down as she walked, boots thudding against the stairs. Two missed classes already. Great.Her fists were clenched, shame still simmering like a fever under her skin.She didn’t see the next step.Her foot slipped.Stacey lurched forward—gravity yanking her down like a punishment she’d earned—And then, a strong arm caught her.“Whoa there,” a deep voice said, half-laughing. “Aren’t you the falling princess today?”She blinked, stunned, chest against someone solid. She jerked back.“You should watch where you’re going,” she snapped without thinking.The boy blinked, then gave a crooked smile. “You’re welcome?”His face hit her then—curly hair, sharp jawline, hazel eyes with too much charm for a school hallway.“You again,” she murmured, half under her breath. “You were watching me earlier.”“I was,” he admitted. “You looked like you were trying not to cry with your beautiful red hair.”Her shoulders tensed. She turned away.“Hey, I didn’t mean i

She barely made it past the hall gate before it happened.Wham.Her shoulder smacked into someone, and Stacey’s juice box exploded — the sticky red liquid splattering all over a girl’s crisp white top.Gasps erupted.Stacey’s heart stuttered. “I—I’m so sorry—”“What the hell!?” the girl shrieked, staggering back and staring at the mess on her shirt like it was acid.The hallway froze.Whispers swirled around them like wind.“Oh no,” someone muttered. “That’s Monica.”Stacey’s eyes widened. Her worst nightmare had just grown legs.“You stained my uniform, freak!” Monica snapped, her voice slicing through the air. She yanked off her designer sunglasses and glared with venom. Her friends circled like hyenas.“I didn’t mean to—”“Are you blind or just stupid?” Monica sneered. “Oh wait, don’t answer. It’s obvious.”Laughter rippled through the hallway. Phones were already out. Filming.Stacey’s face burned. Her fingers clenched around the now-crushed juice box. Her legs begged her to run,