Chapter Nine
MILA
The day had been a wildfire of bullshit rumors—snaps of laughter in the halls, Elise tossing shade until half the school was running with it.
And Avery—she’d been dragged into it too.
By the last bell, my skull ached from the constant static of it all. Avery and I walked side by side down the corridor, backpacks dragging at our shoulders, straps slipping as we made our way toward the lockers.
“People suck,” she muttered, spinning her lock with more force than necessary. “You would think they’d get bored.”
I leaned against the cool metal next to her. “The fake DMs—they’re not buying that crap, right?”
Her mouth twisted. “Some are. Some aren’t. Doesn’t matter. Once it’s out there…”
“Hey.” I touched her arm, waiting until her eyes met mine. “I get that it hurts—what they’re saying, the way things have been. But it matters. None of that noise is who you are. And anyone who really knows you gets that.”
Her throat worked, and for a second, I thought she would deflect. But then she whispered, “It still feels gross. Like they got inside my phone.”
Anger sparked low. “What did your brother do when he saw it?”
Avery finally cracked a small smile. “Yelled loud enough to scare half the football team. He wanted Elise to regret ever touching my name.”
“And Jax?”
She shook her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Didn’t say much. Just sat with me. That was… enough.”
“And Chase didn’t have a problem with Jax hanging around you?” I asked carefully. If Jax had been there for her, I hoped Chase had noticed—and maybe started to accept them.
Her eyes flickered, almost relieved. “He wasn’t as mad as I thought. Still pissed, but… he didn’t get in the way. That has to count for something.”
It did. More than something. My chest ached for her—for how fast confidence could be cut down by a lie and how slow it was to build it back again.
I should’ve said more—told her she didn’t have to face it alone. But the weight of my own day pressed too hard, the endless spin of Elise’s games tightening around my ribs.
So instead, I said, “I think I’m going to go home. Screw the committee.”
Avery gave a half-snort, slamming her locker shut. “Best idea you’ve had all week.”
Maybe she was right. My feet carried me toward the exit, intent on disappearing before anyone could drag me back in.
That was when my phone buzzed.
Mom: You’re back on the committee. Don’t argue. Go straight to the meeting. It’ll be “corrected.”
I stopped outside the school, arms folded, staring at the concrete walkway like it might tell me what to do. Confront Elise again? Walk away completely?
The message glowed in my hand, insistent. Corrected. As though this wasn’t sabotage at all. Like this wasn’t Elise. I didn’t reply. I just turned around and walked back inside.
The conference room on the east side of campus was already filling up. Long tables lined the space, surrounded by flawless hair, staged smiles, and the hum of curated laughter.
And there was Elise—perched dead center, a pageant queen in perfect control, binder open, pen in hand. A real hostess moment, perfectly polished. Until she saw me.
Her expression didn’t crack. But her grip on the pen did. The plastic bent, a quick snap that only I caught. Panic flickered before she smothered it under the practiced tilt of her chin. Rage simmered in the twitch of her jaw.
Before she could open her mouth, one of the school board liaisons breezed in with a grin plastered across her face. “Oh, Mila! Yes, we’ve got you now—let me just fix this.” She handed me a packet as though it were nothing. “There we go. That was supposed to be corrected earlier.”
Corrected. Again. As if we were pawns being shifted, not people with choices.
I didn’t miss the vein throbbing in Elise’s temple. Neither did Quinn, who dropped her gaze fast, as if she stared at the table hard enough, she could vanish through it.
“That’s fine,” Elise said at last, her voice tight, smooth veneer stretched too thin. “We can still assign her something… light.”
The liaison clapped her hands together, beaming as though we’d solved world hunger. “Programs and welcome table. It’s not flashy, but it keeps her in the loop.”
Not flashy. Translation: harmless. Forgettable. Easy to erase.
Elise didn’t answer.
The meeting dragged anyway—an endless parade of posturing about tablecloth colors and sponsor shout-outs, voices pitched just loud enough to sound important. I stopped listening after five minutes.
Instead, I flipped my packet over and let my pencil wander. The eucalyptus trees outside the window caught my eye, branches bent under the ocean wind. Sharp lines for the leaves. A twist of trunk. Anything to drown out the drone of Elise’s perfect diction.
By the time someone motioned for adjournment, half the page was filled with rough outlines of the world beyond the glass—messy, alive, real.
I took my time packing up, not in a rush to trail after their weekend-party gossip. So I lingered, dragging my feet. The quiet stretched—and that was when I heard it. Elise’s voice just around the corner.
“No, you don’t understand. She shouldn’t even be here. I handled it. I—” A pause. “Yes, Mr. Langley, but—” Another beat. Then: “Fine. But if this backfires, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The name sliced through me. Langley. Darren Langley—my mom’s boyfriend, the VP at King Enterprises—lying in a pool of blood. The image tore through me.
I froze in the doorway, pulse skittering.
The chill that went through me had nothing to do with the draft sneaking in from the cracked window at the end of the hall.
My fingers went numb around the strap of my bag.
It couldn’t be. I’d seen the body too. But my mother’s voice from that night whispered through my mind. Don’t look. Just go.
I slipped out the side exit before Elise could spot me.
My hands shook as I typed before I could overthink it: Need to talk. Tonight.
No reply. Which meant hockey. Which meant I had hours to kill and nowhere I wanted to be.
I didn’t go home. I drove straight to the beach instead. I parked by the boardwalk, bought a coffee, and walked until the sky bruised into vibrant reds, pinks, oranges, and gold. The crash of waves almost drowned out the echo in my head. Mr. Langley. Over and over.
I kicked off my shoes and sank into the chilly sand, sketchbook balanced on my knees.
The pages curled in the damp air, pencil dragging too heavy across the paper.
Even the gulls circling overhead came out wrong—jagged, broken, stripped of grace.
I stared at the mess of lines until my coffee went cold beside me, forgotten.
When my phone finally buzzed, the boardwalk lights had flickered on, and my throat felt raw from the briny air.
Luke: I’m starving. Grabbing food for us. Meet me on the roof.
I stared at the screen, an eyebrow arching on instinct.
Me: You trying to impress me or bribe me?
His reply came fast.
Luke: Can’t it be both?
The rooftop didn’t feel like a battleground tonight. It felt… quieter. Safer. A place that remembered us but didn’t care what we’d done to ruin it.
We spread the boxes between us, cross-legged on the blanket he’d laid out, ocean wind pulling at loose strands of my hair. The smell of pizza and fries rose warm between us, cutting through the air.
“Still order the same thing?” I asked, peeking inside.
“Half pepperoni, half plain. And fries.”
“You don’t order fries with pizza.”
He shrugged, unapologetic. “No, you don’t. I do. And you steal them anyway.”
Heat crept up my neck. “That was—”
“Every time.” He shoved the carton toward me. “Don’t pretend you won’t.”
I stole one on principle. “Old habits.”
His smirk deepened, but he didn’t push.
We ate in that same easy rhythm, familiar enough to hurt. Until I told him about the meeting. About the liaison, the “correction,” Elise’s reaction, and finally, the call.
He froze mid-reach, tension bleeding into the air when I said it. “Langley?”
“Mr. Langley,” I clarified. “That’s how she said it. No first name.”
His eyes narrowed. “Not a coincidence.”
My pulse stumbled. “You think Darren’s not dead?”
The pizza crust bent in my hand. For a second the rooftop blurred with the possibility of it as I was hurdled back to the night Mom and I’d left town in a hurry.
I’d spotted Mom first—dark hair spilling down her back. Then my eyes caught the prone man on the ground. Limbs bent wrong. Blood spreading. My breath snagged, a scream clawing up my throat.
Mom spun, eyes locking on mine. In two strides, her hand was tight over my mouth. “Not a sound,” she hissed. “We have to move.”
My pulse pounded so loud it drowned the distant hum of traffic. My knees trembled, barely holding me up.
Because I knew who it was—Darren. The guy Mom had been dating. The VP at King Enterprises. The man whose lifeless eyes—eyes I’d seen crinkle in laughter just weeks ago—stared past us into nothing.
“Mila.” My name carried a sharp panic that cut through the fog in my head. I tore my gaze from Darren’s face and locked on hers.
“Go. Now. Get in your car and move. I’ll meet you at the house.”
I ran. Breath scraping, hands white-knuckled on the wheel, headlights blurring into static.
When I skidded into the driveway, she was right behind me. Her car door shut. The front door was open before I’d even killed the engine.
“Pack,” she snapped. “Everything. Just move.”
“What? No. We need to call the cops—”
“No cops.” Her voice cracked like a whip.
“But we didn’t do anything—”
Her gray-green eyes locked on mine. “It will come back to us. The people who did this—they’ll put it on us. They will make sure we take the fall.”
I blinked, pulling myself back from that night where we’d seen more than we should’ve. The cool air bit into my lungs. Luke was watching me, steady, silent.
“There was a body,” I whispered. “I saw it. My mom said not to say anything. We left that night. The blood…” My throat closed. “I don’t see how he could’ve survived that.”