Chapter 2

Ella

By lunch, everyone knows.

Of course they do.

It doesn’t take long. It never does.

A look. A moment. One wrong move—and suddenly it’s everywhere.

I feel it the second I step into the cafeteria.

The whispers.

The stares.

The way conversations pause just long enough for me to notice before picking back up again.

“—she actually said something—”

“—to Beckett Cross—”

“—is she serious—”

I keep my head down and move toward the back like I always do.

Same table.

Same seat.

Same attempt to disappear.

But today—

It’s not working.

“Ella!”

Relief hits me instantly.

Lila.

She’s waving me over like nothing’s wrong, like this is just another normal day. Her energy fills the space around her—bright, loud, impossible to ignore.

I slide into the seat across from her, setting my tray down carefully so my hands don’t give away how unsteady they feel.

She takes one look at me and narrows her eyes.

“Okay,” she says. “What did you do?”

I blink. “Why does everyone think I did something?”

“Because the entire school is acting like you just lit something on fire,” she says. “And I know you.”

I sigh. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

She leans forward. “Ella.”

I hesitate.

Because saying it out loud makes it real.

And if it’s real—

Then I have to deal with it.

“He started it,” I say finally.

“Obviously.”

“I just… didn’t walk away this time.”

Her eyes widen. “You didn’t—”

“I told him to move.”

Lila freezes.

Then—

“Oh my God.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I say quickly. “It just—happened.”

“You told Beckett Cross to move,” she repeats, like she’s trying to process it. “Do you understand how insane that is?”

“I didn’t plan it,” I mutter.

“That makes it worse.”

I drop my gaze to my tray, pushing my food around without actually eating.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” I say quietly.

“Why not?”

“Because now it’s worse.”

I gesture vaguely around the room.

“This,” I say. “All of this.”

Lila glances around, then back at me.

“Or,” she says slowly, “it’s different.”

I shake my head. “No. It’s worse.”

“How?”

“Because now I’m not just the girl they laugh at,” I say. “Now I’m the girl who thinks she can fight back.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say immediately. “Because people notice that.”

Her expression shifts.

Softens.

“Ella…”

I swallow.

“If people notice me,” I continue quietly, “they find more things to pick apart.”

The words feel heavy.

Too honest.

But I can’t take them back.

“I already don’t fit,” I add. “I don’t need to give them more reasons.”

Lila watches me for a long moment.

Then she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“You know what I think?”

“No,” I mutter. “But you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“I think you’ve spent so long trying to be invisible,” she says, “that you forgot you were never invisible to begin with.”

I let out a quiet laugh.

“That’s not comforting.”

“It’s not supposed to be.”

I shake my head, staring down at my hands.

Because the truth is—

I don’t see what she sees.

I see someone who doesn’t fit.

Someone people laugh at because it’s easy.

Someone who learned a long time ago that if you stay quiet, it hurts a little less.

Even if it never actually stops hurting.

“Hey.”

I look up.

Lila’s expression softens.

“You don’t deserve the way they treat you,” she says.

I shrug. “Maybe not. But it doesn’t change anything.”

“It could.”

I narrow my eyes slightly. “That sounds like a setup.”

“It is a setup,” she says. “A good one.”

I groan. “Lila—”

“Just hear me out.”

“That’s never reassuring.”

She grins. “Step one.”

I freeze slightly.

There it is.

The plan.

“Absolutely not.”

“I didn’t even say anything yet.”

“You don’t have to. I know that tone.”

She leans forward, ignoring me. “We start small. No big reveal. No dramatic change overnight.”

I cross my arms. “Define small.”

She gestures toward my hair.

I immediately reach up. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing,” she says quickly. “It’s actually really pretty. It just… doesn’t do anything for you.”

I blink. “That’s not better.”

“You’ve had the same style forever,” she continues. “And it’s hiding you.”

“I’m not hiding,” I say.

She raises a brow.

I look away.

“…Okay, maybe a little.”

“A lot,” she corrects.

I exhale slowly.

“I tried changing something once,” I say. “You remember what happened.”

Her expression softens again.

“I remember you went to someone who had no idea what they were doing,” she says.

“I remember being called ‘mushroom head’ for two months.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“It still happened.”

Silence.

Then—

“This won’t be like that,” she says.

I shake my head. “You can’t promise that.”

She smiles slowly.

“Yes, I can.”

I narrow my eyes. “How?”

“My cousin Mateo,” she says. “He owns a salon. He’s amazing. Like, actually amazing. And he loves makeovers.”

I hesitate.

Because this is how she gets me.

Not by forcing.

Not by pushing too hard.

But by making it sound possible.

And that’s the dangerous part.

Because for a second—

Just a second—

I want to believe her.

“I’ll think about it,” I say.

Lila beams like I just agreed to change my entire life.

“That’s all I need.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s no real resistance behind it.

Not anymore.

⸻

After school, I walk home alone.

The air feels heavier than usual.

Or maybe that’s just me.

Every step feels… louder.

Like I’m more visible than I was yesterday.

Like people are still watching—even when they’re not.

I turn onto my street.

And there he is.

Beckett Cross.

In his driveway.

Like always.

Like he’s always been there.

Like no matter how far I go—

I don’t really get away from him.

He looks up as I approach.

Our eyes meet.

And for a second—

It’s just like this morning.

Quiet.

Tense.

Different.

He doesn’t say anything.

Neither do I.

I walk past him, forcing myself not to react, not to slow down, not to look back.

But I feel it.

That same awareness.

That same weight.

Following me all the way to my front door.

And for the first time—

I wonder if Lila’s right.

If I was never invisible.

If I just—

Pretended to be.