Chapter 1: HULK

Clara’s POV

STERLING HEIGHTS ACADEMY – CAFETERIA

The warm milk dripped down my hoodie, soaking into the thick fabric. I didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

“Oops,” Sloane smirked. She held the empty milk carton like a trophy. “I thought that was the trash can. My bad, scholarship girl. You’re just so… big, it’s hard to tell where you end and the garbage begins.”

The cafeteria exploded with laughter. Sterling Heights Academy had a way of turning humiliation into entertainment, and if the elites laughed, everyone laughed. It was the survival of the cruelest, and today I was the main event. I stared at my tray, trying to breathe through the humiliation.

“Is it heavy?” I heard a cold voice ask.

The room went silent as he spoke; it was Jaxson King. The hockey captain was looking right at me. "Is that your third tray, HULK?" he said. "Or are you pacing yourself today?”

The hall roared again, louder this time. The nickname "HULK" felt like a physical slap every time he said it. He had called me that since my very first day at Sterling Heights, and it stuck. Of course, he could be a bully; his parents funded half the sports programs. Teachers looked the other way when he broke the rules. Students treated his words like gospel.

"CAN’T YOU MOVE?!” His scream jerked my thoughts.

“Wait, hold on, I think she's turning green," Sloane said, walking toward me.

"Enough," Maya snapped. She stepped forward, planting herself between me and their table. Maya was the only person who looked out for me since I came here last August.

"Oh, relax," Sloane said with a shrug. "We’re just worried about her health."

"And I’m worried about your face," Maya shot back. "That contour is melting faster than your reputation."

A few students gasped; others chuckled, and Sloane’s smile vanished. "Watch your mouth, Maya," she said.

"Fix your own insecurities before you comment on someone else’s body, Sloane," Maya replied. "At least Clara doesn’t need five layers of makeup to look human."

Murmurs filled the hall. I saw Jaxson’s jaw tighten with rage. Even though he and Sloane had broken up since junior high, he was protective of his circle. He looked like he was about to say something that would end Maya’s social life, but she didn't give him the chance. She grabbed my arm and pulled me away.

"Don't listen to them; they’re hollow," she murmured, dabbing the milk off my hoodie with a napkin. "Every single one of them is hollow."

I nodded with a quiet sob; I wished I believed her. At Sterling Heights, hollow people ran the world.

THE GYM – 1:00 P.M.

Maya had an AP psychology seminar, so I was alone when I walked into the gym for rehearsal. The cheer squad was already there, stretching in their pristine blue and gold uniforms. I stood at the edge of the mats, still wearing my milk-stained hoodie. I felt like a dark spot on a bright canvas.

"Alright, everyone! From the top!" Sloane called. She stood at the center, acting as the captain; she was only on paper.

They ran the routine I had spent three weeks choreographing. Three weeks of learning every rhythm, watching videos, mapping out counts so every girl would shine, and yet here they were messing it all up; everything fell apart at the pyramid.

"No, no, no!" Sloane halted, wheezing. "The transition is clunky; who wrote this? It's garbage."

The squad looked at me, then I stepped forward. "The timing is off because you're starting on four instead of one,” I said. “Lead with your right foot on the first beat and the transition flows."

Sloane rolled her eyes. "I didn't ask for a lecture, Clara. Just fix it."

I detested her arrogance, but I loved dancing, and I had worked too hard on this to watch them mess it up. So, I adjusted arms, corrected stances, and counted out the rhythm until the routine ran clean.

For a few minutes, the bullying stopped because they needed me. A small, stubborn spark of pride lit in my chest. They knew I was the only reason they weren't falling on their faces, but in this school, talent didn't matter if you didn't fit the mold. I was their secret weapon and their favorite punchline.

Coach Davies walked in right on cue. "Sloane, that new sequence is brilliant. Where did the mid-air twist come from?"

Sloane tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I just wanted something more elite for the opening game, Coach. I worked on it all weekend."

The pride in my chest turned to lead; I almost puked.

"Oh, and Clara," Sloane added without looking at me. "You'll stay at the back. You're... you'll block the other girls. Right, Coach?"

"Not a bad idea," Coach said. "Excellent instincts, Sloane."

The intercom cut through before I could say a word. "Clara Adene, report to the principal's office immediately."

I picked up my bag and left with my head bowed. The walk down the hall felt endless; I was burning with rage. When I entered, the principal’s expression wasn't the usual stern look she gave students; she looked at me with pitiful eyes.

“Clara, we received a call from St. Louis Hospital,” she began. “Your mother needs you urgently. You have my permission to go now.”

My heart stopped. “What? Did it get worse? Is she…?”

“She’s fine; she’s still alive. Breathe. But you need to go now; they’ve called twice already. Get your things and go.”

I didn't wait for her to finish; I ran as fast as my legs could move. I took the next bus straight to the hospital.

LOUIS HOSPITAL

I ran into the hospital like a wounded animal, searching for my mother. I finally found the ICU and waited, barely holding up. I couldn't bear the thought of losing my mother.

“Clara Adene?” A doctor called, walking toward me.

"That's me, sir. How's she? How's my mother?" I sobbed.

"We stabilized her, but the kidney failure is accelerating. Her body is struggling to filter the toxins."

"Oh no," I panicked. “What happens now?"

"We need to begin the next treatment cycle tonight. It’s a specialized process, Clara." He said, looking down at his clipboard, and I knew what was coming.

“There is an outstanding balance of three thousand dollars, and we need a thirteen-hundred-dollar deposit for the new treatment cycle.”

‘Forty-three hundred dollars!!’ I screamed in my head. "And if it isn't paid today?" I whispered, trembling from head to toe.

He sighed heavily. “The toxins will keep building, her blood pressure will crash again, and the next time it does…” He exhaled slowly. “It may not be something we can pull her back from.”