Chapter 8

I did not sleep at all that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Nathan's phone screen glowing in the dark, or Owen laughing with those guys from Fiat's Eagle Locke. I kept rolling over in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling stupid for ever dropping my guard under that old tree.

By the time morning came, my head was throbbing, and my eyes felt heavy and dry.

I got to school early, walking with my head down, avoiding every single person in the hallway. I skipped going anywhere near the field during the morning break. I just hid in the library, sitting at a corner table behind a row of tall bookshelves, waiting for the hours to pass.

When the noon bell finally chimed for lunch, my stomach twisted into a tight knot.

I knew I shouldn't go back to the oak tree. It wasn't my safe spot anymore. But the cafeteria was packed with students, and the hallways were loud and suffocating. I couldn't breathe inside the building. So, holding my paper bag lunch tightly in my fist, I slipped through the side doors and walked out onto the empty grass field.

The cold wind blew across the open ground, making the tall grass rustle.

I walked slowly toward the giant oak tree, telling myself that if Owen was already there, I would just turn around and leave. But when I reached the thick trunk, the shadow underneath was empty. No one was sitting in the grass. No one was waiting.

I let out a shaky breath, feeling a mix of relief and a strange, quiet sting in my chest.

I sat down at the base of the trunk, pulling my knees up against my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I leaned my back against the rough, dark wood, trying to focus on the cold air and the rustling leaves above me.

See? I told to myself, staring at the empty field. He was just like everyone else. He found his hockey friends, so he moved on.

But after only a minute, the sound of footsteps snapping the dry grass made my shoulders lock up instantly.

I flinched, my heart slamming into my throat. I squeezed my binder against my ribs, bracing myself to see Nathan or Marcus standing there with an evil smirk on their face.

Instead, a tall shadow fell across the grass.

It was Owen. He was wearing his oversized navy hoodie, his heavy canvas bag slung over one shoulder. But he wasn't smiling today. His soft brown eyes looked serious, his dark hair messy from the wind as he stopped a few feet away from the tree.

My mouth went dry. I pulled my hoodie down lower, ducking my chin into my collar.

"I figured you would be out here," Owen said softly. His voice was gentle, lacking any anger or annoyance.

I didn't answer. I kept my gaze locked onto my shoes, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Owen took two slow steps forward and sat down on the grass, right in front of me instead of behind the trunk this time. He crossed his legs, resting his hands on his knees, and looked straight at my face.

"Did I do something wrong yesterday, Niel?" he asked quietly.

The simple question hit me like a slap. My fingers dug into the fabric of my jeans. "No."

"Then why did you run away?" Owen asked. He didn't sound demanding; he just sounded genuinely confused. "In Biology, it was like you completely shut down. You wouldn't even look atme. And then after the bell rang, you practically ran out of the room before I could even say goodbye."

I swallowed hard, the tight feeling in my chest growing worse. "I didn't run away. I just had to go home."

"Niel, please don't lie to me," Owen said softly, leaning forward slightly. "Was it because of those guys from Eagle Locke? Did seeing me talk to them mess something up?"

My head snapped up, my eyes wide with shock.

Owen stayed completely calm, watching my reaction. "I saw how you looked when they called my name. You looked terrified, Niel. You looked like you were seeing a ghost."

"You are one of them," I blurted out before I could stop myself. My voice trembled with a mix of fear and anger. "You play hockey. You're part of Eagle Locke."

Owen blinked, surprised by the anger in my voice. "Yeah... I transferred here on an athletic scholarship for hockey. I played with those guys back in middle school. But what does that have to do with—"

"It has everything to do with it!" I snapped, pulling my knees closer to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. "All you hockey guys are the same in this school! You think you own the place, you treat everyone else like garbage, and you ruin people's lives just because you can!"

Owen went completely still. He didn't yell back. He didn't get defensive or angry. He just sat there in the cold grass, listening to my breathing, his brown eyes filled with a deep, quiet sadness.

"I don't know what people here have done to you, Niel," Owen said quietly, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "And I don't know why you're so scared. But I am not here to ruin your life. I'm just a guy who wanted a quiet place to eat his lunch."

"It doesn't matter what you want!" I yelled softly, my eyes stinging with unwanted tears. "You don't understand how this school works! Golden Locke, Eagle Locke... it's all a trap. If Nathan or anyone else sees me talking to a player from the reserve team, they will destroy me. They will make my life a living hell!"

I stood up fast, my knees trembling so badly I almost lost my balance. I grabbed my paper bag lunch and took a step back, away from the tree and away from Owen.

"Just stay away from me," I said, my throat so tight I could barely breathe. "Don't sit near me in class, don't talk to me in the halls, and don't come back to this tree. Just leave me alone."

I turned around without waiting for an answer and started fast walking across the field back toward the main building.

I expected to hear him shout after me. I expected to hear his heavy sneakers chasing me through the grass. But there was no sound behind me except the cold wind blowing through the broad green leaves of the old oak tree.

I glanced back once right before I reached the side doors.

Owen was still sitting on the grass under the tree, watching me walk away with a sad, thoughtful expression on his face. He didn't look angry. He didn't look like a bully. He just looked like someone who had finally realized how deep the darkness went in Fiat Locke Academy.

I pulled open the heavy metal door, stepped into the dark hallway, and let the quiet cold of the school swallow me whole.