Chapter 2
ARIA
The lunch bell jars me out of my trance, its screech yanking me back to the present. I rise with the rest of the class, gathering my textbook and folders in my arms.
Remnants of this morning still cling to me, clouding my head, every thought circling the same problem—how I’m supposed to get through the week without a car. My mind drifts back to the guy in the leather jacket, my stomach tightening as I replay his last warning.
Be careful.
Don’t go accepting rides from strangers like this again.
It was reckless. Foolish, even. I can’t believe how easily I climbed into that car, without even a second thought. It could’ve gone so wrong. But walking everywhere isn’t a solution, either, not after freezing on the way to school and dreading the same for work. Between both, it feels impossible.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
I don’t even realize I’ve slipped back into that barrage of restless thoughts until familiar fingers, tipped in glossy cherry-red polish, snap beside me. The sound cuts through the noise in my head, pulling my focus back to her as we exit the room.
My brows knit as I glance over at my friend’s curious expression. “Sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night. What’d you say?”
She bumps her shoulder into mine, her corn-silk hair swishing behind her like it’s trying to eavesdrop on whatever secret is stewing in my head. “Okay,” she says, her eyes narrowing with a sly, almost knowing grin. “Spill. I wanna hear it.”
“Hear what?”
“Oh, come on, Aria.” She bats her lashes as we drift along with the herd of students piling into the noisy hallway, chatter ricocheting off the narrow walls. “You’ve been spacing out all day, won’t look me in the eye, and now you’re blushing.”
My heart takes flight. “I’m not…”
“You so are,” she teases, her finger pointed toward me. “See, it’s getting deeper. Who are you thinking about? Tell me.”
I open my mouth, then shut it again, shoulders lifting in a weak shrug.
How can I even begin to explain this morning without sounding like I’ve lost my mind?
Better to keep it to myself. For now. At some point, though, I’ll have to tell her about the missing car.
I don’t want my silence to make her question our friendship.
I hover on the edge of saying something, but a body barrels between us, jolting me forward before the words can form.
“Hey, watch it,” Clara shouts at the freshman boy as he squeezes through.
Down the hall, a hand lifts above the crowd, the white glare overhead catching on Kelsey’s red hair, giving her away instantly. Clara raises her own hand in answer, signaling just a second before turning back to me.
“Let’s put our things away and talk in the cafeteria.”
“Sure,” I say, returning her warm smile. She skips down the corridor, her shoes squeaking sharply against the linoleum.
I draw a steadying breath and shift the weight of my school materials in my arms, pulling them closer to my chest as I head toward my locker in the opposite direction.
Kelsey’s new this semester, but she and Clara clicked quickly, their friendship forming almost overnight.
Sharing side-by-side lockers made it easier.
Since Clara’s close to both of us, that connection extended to me, though sometimes it feels like they fit together more naturally than I do with either of them.
I’ve never been good at making friends and probably wouldn’t have any if it weren’t for Clara’s persistence. Tall, beautiful, and from money, she could’ve chosen anyone. Yet somehow—she chose me.
Timid. Quiet. Always the one left on the edge.
But appearances aren’t what tie us together. It’s the quiet grief we carry—forged signatures on report cards, houses that echo with too much silence. The kind of silence that reminds you of just how unimportant you are to those who should care the most.
Our bond isn’t rooted in wealth and status. It comes from knowing what it’s like to feel invisible. Unwanted.
Lost in my own head, I don’t see the leg until I’m already pitching forward, my textbook and folders slipping from my arms, papers scattering as my palms smack hard against the floor.
Laughter cracks around me, sharp and cruel, somehow worse than the fall itself.
For a second, I freeze, muscles locked. The cold floor stings beneath my hands and knees, my heart pounding in my ears, breath catching tight in my throat.
I sit back on my heels, smoothing down my skirt with shaky fingers before gathering the mess—some pages crumpled, others damp from the stream of students who trample past, nobody stopping to help.
My vision blurs before I blink it back, swallowing the burn in my eyes.
A pair of scuffed white Adidas’ stops in front of me. My gaze drags upward, past Levi's jeans and the hem of a blue varsity jacket, stopping short at his face.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and restrained. Then he crouches beside me, hand outstretched.
I hesitate for a beat, finally meeting Jayce’s uncharacteristically kind eyes before my hand finds his. His clasp is warm and oddly comforting as he helps me to my feet. Then I snatch my hand away, severing the connection once I remember he’s one of them. The jocks.
Behind him, the cluster of senior boys swarm the perimeter, doubled over like they’ve witnessed the peak of human comedy. At the center of it all is Hillside Academy’s golden boy, Hunter Davis, lounging against his locker, straightening his leg with a smile that makes my stomach twist.
“What’s the matter?” he mocks, his voice pitched high enough to garner more attention. “Didn’t mean to flash us?” He juts out his bottom lip in a fake pout, then turns back to his friends, soaking in their laughter the way weeds feed on sunlight.
“She was practically asking for it dressed like that!” one of them yells over his shoulder, setting the group off even louder.
Jayce flips his middle finger at them. “Oh, shut up, Gabe. Guys, don’t be assholes.”
I grit my teeth, grinding down whatever choice words are rising from deep inside me. I don’t want to cause an even bigger scene, my gaze glued to the floor to avoid the humiliation of onlookers.
There’s no point in going up against Hunter and his crew.
They basically run this school. If I were Clara, maybe I would stay and say something witty back.
Hold my head high. But I’m not her. I’m me.
So, I gnaw at the inside of my cheek and bristle past them, chin tucked to my chest, blood thundering in my ears.
Somewhere ahead, Hunter’s girlfriend, Maddie Thompson, spots me, her high-pitched voice spiking my nerves. I make the mistake of lifting my gaze and catch her striding straight toward me, the space too narrow to slip past her unnoticed.
She slows as she draws close, eyes flicking down my skirt like the sight alone offends her.
Her lips curl, and she leans just near enough for her voice to cut through me.
“Cheap little stunts like this won’t get you anywhere.
If you think falling at Hunter’s feet is some way of making him notice you, you’re even more pathetic than I thought. ”
Her caustic tone has my fingers digging into the spine of my textbook, jaw tight enough to keep anything I might say locked behind my thinly sealed lips.
Maddie scoffs at my silence, pausing long enough for the humiliation to sink in before ramming her shoulder into me on her way past. “Stay out of my way, loser.”
I don’t look back at her or anyone else, my gaze fixed on my locker at the end of the hall, laughter swirling behind me.
The shell of my ears burns hot. I fumble my locker code twice, my mind still scrambled from what just happened, finally managing to click it open on the third try.
I shove everything inside, my hands trembling.
They pick on you because you let them. Because you say nothing.
The locker door slams harder than I mean it to, frustration leaking into the motion. Clara won’t always be around to speak up for me. If I don’t find my own backbone, they’ll never stop. I’ll always be the perfect target for their vicious amusement, my silence feeding their cruelty.
Maybe that’s also why Mom thinks she can get away with stealing my clothes.
Run off with my car. Why she always returns expecting forgiveness despite it all, tail between her legs, with the audacity to promise me she’ll change.
Like a fool, I give in to it every single time, fueling the horrible cycle.
I do.
Blinking away the moisture gathering in my eyes, I make a quick detour and stop by the girl’s restroom, needing a second to cool off some steam and pull myself together.
So what if I kept quiet again?
That doesn’t make me weak.
Maybe they just aren’t worth my time. Maybe it pisses them off more not to get a rise out of me.
Yeah…
Right.
I duck into the bathroom and turn on the faucet, pumping a few squirts of soap into my palm before scrubbing the grime from my hands, my thoughts drifting back to bigger problems—my car. Or the lack of one.
When I glance at my reflection in the mirror, I nearly flinch, lips parting in a gasp as dark crescents stare back at me, etched beneath dull eyes, my hair a tangled mess from this morning’s trek through the snow.
God, I look terrible.
I rake my fingers through the knots, sweeping the bulk of it over one shoulder, as a flush of abashed warmth seeps into my chest. This is how I looked sitting in that guy’s passenger seat. Wild and wrecked. A walking ball of disaster.
It’s fine, I tell myself, though I’m not convinced. But it’s not like I’ll see him again.
So, it shouldn’t matter that he looked perfectly composed, jaw set firm and eyes of tempered steel that I swear could cut straight into the deepest layers of my self-consciousness.
All while I sat there, picking at my chapped lips and stubbly knees, my reflection sagging with the same wilted defeat I’d woken up with.
It doesn’t matter. Not at all.
But telling myself lies doesn’t stop the mortification from sinking deeper into my cheeks, deepening them into a brighter scarlet. I drop my gaze and shut the faucet off.
The one time I speak to a guy, and of course that’s how it went. I press my hands beneath the weak gusts of the bathroom dryer, then make my way toward the cafeteria, forcing myself to breathe evenly so Kelsey and Clara won’t notice something’s off. I prefer it that way. I always do.
They appear out of the corner of my eye, red and blonde hair bobbing around the back table where we usually sit. Clara catches sight of me and flashes me a pink-tinged smile, nudging a lunch tray forward as I approach. I drop into the seat across from them.
“You took a while,” Clara says.
I reach for the straw on my milk carton and toy with the wrapper. “I stopped by the bathroom.”
She doesn’t press me about it, reaching instead for a carrot stick and dipping it in ranch. I scan for signs of Hunter or Maddie, then drop my gaze back to the strawberry milk in front of me, my shoulders loosening when I don’t find them.
Kelsey glances between us. “So, what do you guys think about coming over tonight? My dad’s out of town, so my mom won’t care if anyone’s over.”
“Sure, why not?” Clara says, dunking a carrot in ranch. “My parents are too busy with the law firm to care.”
The words law firm coil in my stomach. I picture this morning’s walk and wonder if her parents know him.
“You in, Aria?” Kelsey asks, her pizza slice going cold.
I sip my strawberry milk, trying to soothe the roughness in my throat. “Sure.” It’s not like I have to ask anyone for permission.
“Hey,” I say to Clara, “can I borrow your phone to text the cafe? I can’t make my shift.”
“Uh, yeah, but where’s your phone?” she mumbles around a mouthful of food, furrowing her brows as she wipes her hands with a napkin.
I let out a long sigh. “Left it at home. My mom took the car and was gone before I even woke up this morning, so I was a bit frazzled and forgot about it.”
Both girls gape at me. Clara’s eyebrows arch, her mossy-green eyes flashing with concern. “What? How’d you get here, then?”
“I walked.”
Clara gasps at my admission but still reaches into the pocket of her oversized hoodie, tugging it free and handing it over. “In this weather?”
Kelsey’s head snaps up. “With a skirt?” Both of them are staring at me now. “Wait—did your mom take your clothes, too?”
“Shit,” Clara breathes. “Is that why you’re dressed like that?” Her voice softens slightly. “I just thought you were trying to get someone’s attention.”
My jaw tightens, heat crawling up my neck. “Who’d you think I was dressed like this for?”
“Well, that’s what I was trying to get out of you earlier.”
A quiet huff slips out as I turn my attention to the phone in my hand, using it as an excuse not to answer. I type in my manager’s number instead.
“Well, you’re more than welcome to stay at my place until you get your car back,” Clara says. “I still can’t believe you walked here like this, Aria. You could’ve called me.”
I hit send on my message and glance back up at her, heaving a sigh. “It wasn’t much of a walk. I’d feel bad making you drive out of your way just to get me.”
“Don’t be silly,” she responds. “You know I wouldn’t have minded.”
Her smile softens, edged with reassurance, though I catch something else beneath it, maybe even a trace of hurt that I didn’t call her.
Then she turns toward Kelsey, eyeing her tray for a second. “Aren’t you hungry, Kels?”
Kelsey uses a plastic fork to pick at her carrots, her ears slightly pink. “I had a big breakfast. Don’t stop eating on my account, though.” Her gaze dips as she adds, “Oh—let me send over my address.”
Neither of us has ever been to her house before. We usually gather at Clara’s, and I figure their neighborhoods are close together because Kelsey always gets there faster than I do.
She texts her address to Clara’s phone, and I save it under her contact before handing it back.
Monroe Street. Kelsey Shaw.
“Done,” I announce.
They go back to chatting about the sleepover, grinning like nothing in the world can go wrong, and I try to let myself believe it. I lean into the warmth gathering around the three of us, hoping their happiness might rub off on me, too. Just once.