Chapter 2: Flames Behind The Smile

“Whoa easy there, aren’t you the falling princess today?”

That was the first thing she heard, a deep voice, amused,  and annoyingly calm.

Stacey jerked back, breath catching as she realized a strong arm had been around her a second ago.

“You should watch where you’re going,” she snapped before her brain caught up.

Only then did everything replay in her head —

She’d been rushing down the stairs, shame still burning from the morning. Two missed classes already. Her heart was hammering. She wasn’t looking at her steps.

Her foot slipped and her body pitched forward.

She felt the world tilt and then him catching her.

She stood frozen, staring at the boy who had just saved her from face-planting into the staircase.

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.”

“Are you heading to Literature class?”

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 and they both entered. 

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 everywhere. But you’ll find your rhythm soon, don't worry.”

She said nothing.

“I’ll help,” he added.

She looked at him, skeptical.

“I mean it.”

The doors slid open and 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 in a pink crop top, with spite in her eyes.

Monica, Stacey noticed she had put on a new top. Her 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. “You are blocking my path.” she said quietly.

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

Derick stepped in, his 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 as she hurried into the literature room, when she reached the door she shoved it and entered.

She was greeted with wide stares causing her to shrink, she quickly found a seat beside a chubby girl with kind eyes and 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, from me, after spilling her cheap juice on me.” Monica announced, spinning theatrically.

Gasps, murmurs and laughter filled the air,

“I’m not—” Stacey started.

“Oh please. You think because he smiled at you, that you’re special?” Monica’s voice dripped with 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, and uglier.

“She thinks she’s a queen now.”

“Stealing Derick?”

“She’s so skinny it’s gross.”

Her chest tightened, as the words flowed around her, she couldn’t breathe, her butt bounced on her seat. 

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 and alone, trembling violently.