CHAPTER TWO: The slip that stung

Maya knew better than to walk down Hall B. It was loud, always packed, and right by the senior lockers. But the late bell was seconds away, and her usual shortcut was blocked by a cleaning cart. She didn’t have time to hesitate. She ran—fast steps, eyes low, heart racing.

She didn’t see the door swing open. Didn’t see the blur of black hoodie and earbuds until it was too late.

Crash.

Her books hit the floor. Her bag slid sideways. A warm hand caught her arm just before she lost her balance.

Zane.

Of course it was Zane.

“Damn,” he muttered, steadying her. “You okay?”

Maya pulled back so quickly she nearly tripped again. “I’m fine,” she said too fast, heat rushing to her cheeks. She bent to gather her books, but he was already crouched beside her, grabbing one of her notebooks. Their hands brushed. She yanked hers back as if his touch burned her.

“I’m not stalking you, by the way,” she blurted, eyes wide.

Zane raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t say you were.”

“You’re thinking it.”

A slow grin crept onto his face. “Now I am.”

Maya cursed under her breath and snatched the last book from his hand. “This school is a nightmare.”

Zane leaned against the wall like he had all the time in the world. “It’s entertaining, if you don’t take it too seriously.”

“I don’t want to be part of the entertainment,” she snapped, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

But someone had already pulled out their phone. Snapped a picture. Maya didn’t know it yet, but within the hour, the caption would be all over school group chats.

Zane Carter helping the new girl. Her face pink. His hand on her arm. The comment section exploded:

“She’s already got him hooked. That was fast, newbie.”

“Not Amaya’s replacement, please.”

“The way Zane just attracts drama… LMAO.”

She found out in English class when Kennedy slid into the seat beside her, phone out, eyes sympathetic. “You’re blowing up. In a bad way.”

Maya looked at her, heart already sinking. “What do you mean?”

Kennedy turned her screen toward her. There it was—her awkward moment with Zane frozen in time. Zoomed in. Cropped. Her expression looked dazed. His face unreadable. She didn’t even know who took it.

Her throat tightened. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Kennedy sighed. “Welcome to school, where drama is currency and Zane is gold. And you, unfortunately, just got cashed in.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You don’t have to. Zane and Amaya were the kind of messy that never dies. They broke up last semester, but half the school’s still obsessed with them. You accidentally walked into their fire.”

“Great,” Maya muttered. “I just wanted to keep my head down.”

Kennedy glanced around the room and leaned closer. “Then you better get used to ducking. Because the vultures are already circling.”

By lunch, Maya felt the shift. Eyes followed her as she passed tables. Some whispered. Some smirked. A few girls stared openly like she’d committed a crime. Maya found her way to the courtyard again, away from the cafeteria chaos, and sat beneath a tree, picking at a granola bar she didn’t want to eat.

Then she saw her.

Amaya.

She stood near the vending machines, surrounded by a group of girls who looked like they’d walked off a magazine cover. Her ponytail was sleek, her makeup flawless, and her smile… cold. Amaya didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Her eyes found Maya’s, held for a second too long, then rolled away like she’d just glanced at something beneath her.

A few of her friends laughed. One nudged Amaya and whispered something. More laughter.

Maya’s stomach turned.

Later, as she approached her locker before the final period, something icy and wet hit the back of her neck. She froze.

Slush.

Bright red. Sticky. Cold.

It slid down her hoodie and soaked into her shirt.

Someone gasped. Another laughed.

“Not even subtle,” someone muttered.

Maya turned sharply, trying to spot who did it, but the hallway was packed, and everyone looked away too quickly.

Zane stood a few lockers down, arms crossed, jaw clenched. His eyes swept over her, then narrowed toward the direction the slush had come from. Maya didn’t know what to say. Her hands were shaking. She felt humiliated.

Zane walked over and peeled off his jacket. “Here,” he said, holding it out.

She stared at it. “No.”

“It’s cold.”

“So is this school,” she snapped and stormed off, trying not to let the tears win.

She made it to the bathroom and locked herself in a stall. The smell of disinfectant stung her nose. She pulled off the wet hoodie and sat on the toilet lid, clutching it in her lap like armor. Her breathing was shallow, rapid.

She wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not over them. But her throat ached.

There was a knock on the stall door. “It’s Kennedy.”

Maya didn’t move.

Kennedy’s voice softened. “You okay?”

Silence.

“I’ve been there, y’know. When you’re the new story and everyone wants to write your ending.”

Maya wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I didn’t even do anything.”

“That’s the worst part.”

They left together after the final bell. Maya didn’t speak the whole walk home. Kennedy talked about random things—her dog, her annoying brother, a movie she hated—probably trying to distract her. Maya appreciated it, even if she didn’t say so.

That night, she couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep.

The red stain on her hoodie had finally come out, but the memory clung to her like a second skin. She curled up on the living room couch under a blanket, phone facedown beside her. Kennedy had texted three times.

“You okay?”

“Don’t let them win.”

“Please don’t disappear.”

But Maya didn’t reply. She wasn’t sure she could. Her thoughts were loud. Her chest felt tight.