Chapter 2

Noah stood there—alive, fine, right in front of me—and my chest straight-up clenched.

I wanted to hug him so bad, but I played it cool, walking over with half a water bottle.

"Hey, Noah. You're always collecting bottles, right? How many you got now? I'll buy 'em—one buck each!"

Last time around, he worked himself sick. No breaks, no sleep. Died from liver cancer.

Not again. Not on my watch.

Noah glanced up, face pale and unreadable. "They go for fifty cents. Why would anyone pay a dollar? Don't mock me."

"I'm not joking. I mean it!"

I'd heard he kept bottles in his desk. Figured I'd just grab one and pay him on the spot.

He tried to stop me, but I was already pulling the drawer open.

Instead of bottles, I found a lunchbox. Inside?

Half a stale piece of bread and a few sad pickles.

He never ate in the cafeteria. I had no clue this was what lunch looked like for him.

I froze. My heart twisted.

The class burst out laughing.

Noah's hands shook as he grabbed the lunchbox and shoved it back in his desk. His face went ghost-pale.

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to," I blurted. "If you don't want to sell the bottles, then... could you tutor me? I'll pay a hundred an hour."

He was too proud to just take money.

I just needed a reason to help him.

Anything to make sure he didn't have to live like this again.

Noah stared at me, jaw tight. "I might be poor, but I earn what I make. I don't steal. I don't beg. I'm not one of your rich-kid toys."

Then he got up and walked out.

I stood there, stunned, not getting why he was that angry—until Henry stepped in front of me, cracking up so hard he was tearing up.

"You seriously asked him to tutor you? You? Andrea Ambrose, the queen of failing grades? That's comedy gold."

He wasn't wrong. Coming from me, it probably sounded like a joke.

No wonder Noah was pissed...

Regret hit me like a punch to the gut.

Henry's lackey Danny and Peggy were slapping the desk, losing it.

"Did you see that loser's face? Priceless!"

"Guy like him's only worth anything if he strips for cash or sells himself."

Their smug faces lit a fire in me.

I splashed the water in my hand straight at them—soaked.

Then I chucked the empty bottle right at Henry's head.

"With mouths that filthy, what'd you eat this morning?" I snapped. "Toilet food?"

Henry's face went bright red. "What the hell is your problem?!"

"I'm done watching you bully people!" I shot back. "You're nasty, stupid, and gross—how are you even real?"

They just stood there, seething. No comebacks. Just rage.

I didn't care.

I bolted out of there to find Noah, to tell him I didn't mean to hurt him.

But by the time I did, class had already started.

Noah sat in the second row. I was stuck all the way in the back—no chance to even whisper.

Frustrated, I scribbled a quick note and tried to pass it up.

The chem teacher caught us.

"Andrea Ambrose, Noah Novak—if you're not here to learn, go stand outside!"

Noah—straight-A, never-stepped-out-of-line Noah—getting called out? That had never happened.

The class lit up with whispers and muffled laughs.

I glanced at him, standing there with his head down, totally silent, and guilt hit hard.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I didn't mean to drag you into this. I meant what I said about tutoring. Will you?"

He didn't even look at me.

"If you really needed a tutor, you'd hire a pro," he said. "Why ask a poor student like me?"

Then he stepped away, just enough to make it clear—he thought this was all a joke.