A CRACK ON ARIA'S CROWN

Jayden didn’t move right away, then turned his gaze towards the direction where Hope stood  barefooted, fists tightened , jaw set.

She wasn’t in pain.

She wasn't crying 

She wasn’t fighting back

She was burning with anger.

He took a few steps forward, but Hope was already walking away.

By Friday morning, everyone at Rosewood Elite could feel the tension. It showed in looks, secret stares, and quiet coldness.

Hope walked down the hall with her shoulders straight. She wore the  new shoes she got and  had a calm look in her eyes but inside her was sharp. She had learned that kindness was not always returned. Some people thought that being quiet meant she was weak.

Miss Carolina caught her at her locker.

“Hope,” she said softly. “Everything okay?”

Hope hesitated, then gave a tight smile. “Yes,Miss Carolina.”

Carolina studied her a moment longer but didn’t push. “If you need anything… my door is  always open.”

Hope nodded, grateful for the offer but unsure how to accept it. She wasn’t ready to be seen as a victim. Not yet.

Meanwhile, in the senior common room, Aria twirled her smoothie straw like she was making trouble.The thought of what happened the previous day between she and Jayden was still in her memory which made her more angry and jealous, but she didn't allow Bella and Tina to know what transpired so she wouldn't be seen as one being desperate for affection. 

“She hasn’t been cracked yet,” Bella murmured.

“She will,” Aria replied without blinking. “Pressure takes time.”

Tina tapped through her phone. “You know what can  really tip things over? Public humiliation. Something bigger.”

Aria smiled broadly “Already in progress.”

That afternoon, posters went up.

Printed photos of Hope were everywhere with her face edited,distorted, paired with cruel captions.

“Trash in designer wear.”

“Scholarship student,who’d she sleep with to get in?”

Hope stared at the one pasted  to her locker.

For a moment, the world stopped. Students around her either froze or walked by, pretending not to see.

Then a quiet voice broke the moment.

“Who the hell did this?”

Jayden stood behind her, anger radiating from his jawline, his fists clenched.

“I’m taking it down,” he said, ripping the poster off and folding it.

Hope didn’t stop him. She couldn’t. Her throat had closed up.

Other students began tearing down the rest. Some out of guilt, others out of fear they might be next.

Hope turned and walked away, pushing through the crowd, past Marcus, past teachers, past everything.

She needed air.

She needed silence.

In the girls’ bathroom, Hope locked herself in an enclosed space and finally let out the breath she’d been holding all week.

She didn’t cry.

But she shook.

She has  survived worse. She reminded herself that. But survival didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

From the other side of the enclosed space she was in, a soft voice spoke.

“They tried the same thing with me, last year.”

Hope stiffened.

“I’m Lana. I was also humiliated too when I was transferred from another school. Eventually,… seeing you not breaking down shows you are strong and it pisses them off to see you stand strong.

Hope opened the door.

Lana was small, with nervous eyes and a notebook hugged to her chest.

“They’re scared of you,” she whispered. “That’s why they attack.”

Hope looked at her, something steady returning to her spine.

“Then let them be scared.”

The following Monday, Hope walked into school with her head held higher. No more hiding.

In her hand, she carried a printed statement. A short essay.

“What It Means to Not Belong  written by Hope Davies.

She handed it to Miss Caroline. “Can this go in the school journal?”

Carolina read the first few lines, then nodded, her lips tight with pride. “It’ll be printed in this week’s article.”

That same day, the first article of The Rosewood Roar came out.

And by lunchtime, everyone was reading it.

Hope didn’t name names.

She didn’t need to.

Her words did more damage than any poster ever could.

“You think the worst thing someone can be is different.

You laugh at what you don’t understand,

tear down what you’re afraid of,

and disguise cruelty as tradition.

But I’ve survived worse than your mean girls and manicured hate.

I’ve seen hunger, loss, real struggle.

And if you think your hallway games will break me,

you don’t know me at all.”

Students looked at her differently after that.

Some looked impressed.

Some looked guilty.

And some like Aria, looked furious.

That night, in the backseat of a Red sedan, Aria scrolled through her phone, eyes locked on the post someone made about Hope’s essay.

Thousands of likes. Dozens of shares. Hope was becoming a symbol.

“Is this really about Jayden?” Bella asked from the front seat.

Aria didn’t answer.

“It’s not just him,” Tina said. “You’re scared of being replaced.”

Aria's voice was flat. “I don’t get replaced.”

Her phone buzzed.

A text from an unknown number:

“You really thought no one would ever touch your crown?”

She stared at the message.

Her fingers curled around the phone.

And for the first time in a long time, Aria  felt something she wasn’t used to.

Fear.

The next morning, Hope found a note tucked into her locker.

But this one was different.

A single line, handwritten:

“Keep going. You’re making them sweat.”

She looked around. No clue who had written it.

But she smiled.

Because maybe just maybe she wasn’t alone after all.