CHAPTER THREE: Whispers and wounds

The doorbell rang just as Maya was trying to shut the world out. She peeled herself off the sofa like her limbs weighed bricks. Her chest thudded with every step to the door, each second stretching like a scream only she could hear. For a moment, she hesitated—hand hovering above the handle, wondering who could possibly need her in this new town where no one knew her name. Or so she thought.

When she opened it, Kennedy stood on the porch, eyes calm but watchful. She held up two iced coffees like a peace offering. Maya tried to smile.

“I figured you wouldn’t come to school today,” Kennedy said, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “The posts went viral last night. I thought you might need caffeine or a getaway car.”

Maya’s stomach dropped. “It got that bad?”

Kennedy nodded as she handed her one of the cups. “You and Zane were trending in our corner of the universe. Some girl on TikTok posted a whole slideshow. Music and everything.”

Maya took a slow sip, letting the cold bitterness flood her mouth. It was better than letting her feelings rise.

“I didn’t even do anything,” she whispered. “I walked next to him. That’s it.”

Kennedy sat cross-legged on the edge of the couch. “This place doesn’t care what you did. They just need something to feed on. And Zane Carter? He’s prime meat.”

Maya let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her hand trembled slightly around the cup. “I can’t go through this again.”

Kennedy’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been through this before?”

Maya didn’t answer. Her gaze dropped to the floor, her lips parted like she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the right words. Kennedy didn’t push.

Later that morning, Maya forced herself through the school’s glass doors. The hallways buzzed louder than usual, the stares more frequent. She could feel her name stuck to every whisper, her face burned into everyone’s mind—not because of who she was, but because of who they thought she might become.

The whispers turned into silent taunts. Girls watched her like a threat. Boys looked at her like a challenge. Maya hated every second of it.

At her locker, she found a note stuck between the vents. Sharp red ink on torn notebook paper.

“He’s not yours. Watch your back.”

She crushed it in her fist. Her jaw clenched so tight it hurt. Just as she turned to shove it into her bag, a voice came from behind her.

“Rough morning?”

She didn’t have to look to know it was Zane. His voice carried a strange calmness—too smooth, too casual for the firestorm he was partly responsible for.

Maya didn’t turn. “You shouldn’t talk to me.”

“That’s not really your call, is it?”

She faced him then. His eyes were softer than she expected. There was no arrogance, no mocking smirk. Just him, looking at her like he saw something beneath the anger.

“I’m not one of those girls who wants a piece of Zane Carter,” she said flatly.

He tilted his head slightly. “What if I don’t want to be a piece?”

She blinked, startled by the sincerity in his voice, but then quickly masked it. “Stay away from me.”

Before he could respond, someone cleared their throat beside them. Maya turned—and there she was.

Amaya.

Hair perfectly braided. Eyes lined sharp. She was everything Maya wasn’t—loud without speaking, fierce without trying.

“I see we’re making new friends,” Amaya said, her gaze locked on Maya but her words aimed at Zane.

Zane sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t do this, Amaya.”

“Oh, I’m not doing anything,” she replied sweetly. “Just saying hello to the new girl. Maya, right?”

Maya didn’t answer.

“I heard you’re the quiet type. That’s cute.” Amaya stepped closer, voice low. “But silence doesn’t mean innocent. It just means you’re good at hiding things.”

Maya met her gaze evenly, trying not to flinch under the weight of Amaya’s presence. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“Then you won’t mind if we watch and see what comes out.”

Zane looked between them, his jaw tightening. “Enough, Amaya.”

She smiled, then leaned in just close enough for only Maya to hear. “Zane and I? We built this school. You’re just a visitor.”

Then she turned and walked away, heels clicking like a punctuation mark to her warning.

Maya stood frozen, heat crawling up her neck. Zane didn’t say anything more. He just gave her a strange look—half apology, half something else—and walked off after Amaya.

By lunch, the school felt like a pressure cooker. Maya sat in the far corner of the cafeteria, her food untouched. Her phone buzzed every few minutes with messages she refused to open. She wasn’t ready to see what the world had to say about her today.

Kennedy joined her quietly, sitting beside her like a shield.

“They’re calling you the new queen of drama,” she muttered. “There’s even a poll.”

Maya let out a sharp breath. “God, I hate this place.”

Kennedy was quiet for a moment before asking, “Why did you move here, really?”

Maya stiffened. She hated that question. Hated how close it came to everything she tried to bury.

She took out her phone and scrolled to an old photo. Her and a boy—Liam—arms around each other, laughing at something outside the frame. That was before the fallout. Before the rumors. Before she ran.

She hadn’t told Kennedy about him yet. Not about how he betrayed her, not about how everyone turned on her when she spoke the truth. Not about the panic attacks or the weeks she couldn’t leave her bed. Not about how her mom finally said, “Maybe we should leave.” And she didn’t argue.

“I needed a restart,” Maya said instead.

Kennedy nodded, not pressing. “Sometimes the restart is worse than the original story.”

Maya stared across the cafeteria where Zane sat, laughing quietly at something a friend said. Amaya stood near him like a queen guarding her throne. Everyone looked at them like a legend in motion. And now, Maya was tangled in their pages.

“I don’t want to be part of their story,” Maya whispered.

Kennedy looked at her. “Then write your own.”