Chapter 2: Flames Behind The Smile

Heat flushed her face. She kept her head down as she walked, boots thudding against the stairs. Two missed classes already. Great.

Her fists were clenched, shame still simmering like a fever under her skin.

She didn’t see the next step.

Her foot slipped.

Stacey lurched forward—gravity yanking her down like a punishment she’d earned—

And then, a strong arm caught her.

“Whoa there,” a deep voice said, half-laughing. “Aren’t you the falling princess today?”

She blinked, stunned, chest against someone solid. She jerked back.

“You should watch where you’re going,” she snapped without thinking.

The boy blinked, then gave a crooked smile. “You’re welcome?”

His face hit her then—curly hair, sharp jawline, hazel eyes with too much charm for a school hallway.

“You again,” she murmured, half under her breath. “You were watching me earlier.”

“I was,” he admitted. “You looked like you were trying not to cry with your beautiful red hair.”

Her shoulders tensed. She turned away.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that,” he added. “I’m Derick.”

She hesitated. “Stacey.”

“You heading to Lit?”

She nodded.

“I’ll walk you. Make sure you don’t fall into another staircase or emotional breakdown.”

She gave him a look, but a small laugh escaped.

Derick smiled. “There it is.”

The elevator dinged.

Inside, silence hovered between them until he asked, “Rough first day?”

She sighed. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“You’ll survive,” he said gently.

Stacey leaned back against the wall, watching his reflection. “People here… they stare. They whisper. They laugh.”

“They do that anywhere new. But you’ll find your rhythm.”

She said nothing.

“I’ll help,” he added.

She looked at him, skeptical.

“I mean it.”

The doors slid open. A giant sign greeted them: Humanities Block.

The moment they stepped out, whispers exploded like firecrackers.

“Is that Derick?”

“Who’s the new girl?”

All eyes locked on them.

Stacey shrank slightly. Derick just grinned.

“You’re enjoying this,” she muttered.

“Only a little.”

Then she saw them.

Three girls. Designer sneakers. Glossy hair. Stares that could cut glass.

One of them peeled away from the pack—pink crop top, spite in her eyes.

Monica, Stacey noticed she had put on a new top.

Stacey’s breath hitched.

“Well, well,” Monica said, stepping between them like she owned the hallway. “Derick, you really have a type, don’t you?”

Derick gave a strained smile. “Hey, Monica.”

Her gaze snapped to Stacey.

“You’re still here?” she sneered. “After this morning, I figured you’d crawl back to whatever hole you came from.”

Stacey bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.

“Move,” she said quietly.

Monica smirked. “I’m sorry, did you say something, twig?”

Derick stepped in, voice cool. “Monica, enough.”

Monica’s jaw twitched. Her friends narrowed their eyes at Stacey like she’d spat on their designer bags.

Stacey brushed past them.

Behind her, Monica’s voice rang out. “He’s not into charity cases, you know!”

Derick turned sharply. “Monica—”

Stacey didn’t hear the rest. Her ears were buzzing. She reached the Literature class door and shoved it open.

Inside, desks. Students. Stares.

She found a seat beside a chubby girl with kind eyes. Sat without a word.

A moment later, Monica strutted in again.

“Hey, new girl,” she called, loud enough for the whole class. “Wanna know the gossip?”

The room silenced.

Stacey clenched her jaw.

“She’s trying to steal Derick,” Monica announced, spinning theatrically. “From me, after spilling her cheap juice on me.”

Gasps. Murmurs. Some laughs. Some eyes widened.

“I’m not—” Stacey started.

“Oh please. You think just because he smiled at you, you’re special?” Monica’s voice dripped venom.

“She didn’t do anything,” the girl beside Stacey whispered.

Monica leaned in. “Stay away from him. Or next time? It won’t be a juice case, I won’t forgive you again.”

She turned on her heel, flipping her hair.

Stacey sat frozen, the heat behind her eyes rising too fast. The whispers grew louder, uglier.

“She thinks she’s a queen now.”

“Stealing Derick?”

“She’s so skinny it’s gross.”

Her chest tightened. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t sit still. Not again.

She stood.

Grabbed her bag, and bolted out the door.

The hallway blurred past. The stares blurred past. Her own breath was the loudest thing she could hear.

She didn’t stop running.

Not until she was outside.

Not until she was alone.

And even then, her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.