Chapter 1 the weight of the sneakers

The linoleum floor of Eastview High was a map I knew by heart. I knew every scuff mark and every loose tile. If I kept my eyes down, I didn't have to deal with the people. If I didn't see them, they didn't see me. It was a survival tactic. I am Aria Bellwyn, the girl who existed in the shadows. I sat in the middle of every classroom, never the front, never the back. In a school where social status was oxygen, I had learned how to hold my breath.

My backpack felt heavy today. I adjusted the straps, feeling my calculus textbook dig into my spine. It was a solid weight. I just needed to get through three more hours. The hallway was a sea of blue and gold varsity jackets. The air smelled like cheap body spray and floor wax. I moved along the wall, trying to be a shadow.

"Watch it, Bellwyn."

The voice was sharp. I didn't have time to move. Someone bumped into me really hard, I lost grip of the folder I was carrying and it burst open. My history essay slid across the floor, stopping near a trash can.

I stood there, my shoulder throbbing. I knew that perfume. It was sweet, expensive, and made my stomach turn.

"Oops," Blaire Kensington said. She sounded bored.

Blaire was the sun, and everyone else was a planet in her orbit. Her blonde ponytail was pulled back tight. Her cheerleader uniform was spotless. Behind her, her friends were already giggling.

"You're in the way," Blaire said, tapping her phone against her palm. "Again. It’s like you think you’re actually a person people need to walk around."

Students slowed down to watch. This was the morning entertainment.

"The hallway is wide enough, Blaire," I muttered. My heart hammered against my ribs. I shouldn't have spoken.

Blaire stepped closer. "What was that? I can't hear you when you whisper to your shoes. Do you even have a voice, or do you just squeak when people step on you?"

I didn't answer. I knelt to gather my notebooks. My fingers trembled.

"Check out the cover," one of the girls giggled, pointing at my sketchpad. "Is that a bird? How sad. You draw because you have no one to talk to."

Laughter rippled through the crowd. I reached for my history folder, but a clean, white sneaker stepped on the edge of the paper.

I looked up. It was a varsity jacket sleeve. Leather and wool.

Knox Hale stood there.

He was the basketball captain, the golden boy. He was tall, with dark hair and eyes that met mine for a split second. I expected him to move his foot. I expected him to say something to Blaire. He had the power to stop this. One word from him and the crowd would vanish.

Instead, he looked away. He kept his foot on my paper and stared at a spot on the wall. He chose the easy path. He chose to be a statue.

"Knox, babe, let's go," Blaire said, sliding her arm through his. "We’re going to be late."

Knox finally shifted his weight, releasing my folder. He let Blaire lead him away without a word. He didn't look back. As they walked off, Blaire tossed a "Get a life" over her shoulder.

The crowd left the scene. The show was over.

I sat on my heels, staring at the scuffed floor. My skin felt hot. I shoved the dirty papers into my bag and stood up, keeping my head down. I felt smaller than I had ten minutes ago. I was a ghost haunting my own life.

I made it to the second floor before the intercom hummed.

"Aria Bellwyn, please report to the guidance office."

I turned around, feeling the eyes of other students like needles. I headed back down the stairs, my mind racing. My grades were perfect. My attendance was flawless. Maybe it was a mistake.

The secretary pointed toward Mrs. Higgins’ door. "Go on in, Aria."

I pushed the door open. The office smelled like peppermint tea. Mrs. Higgins sat behind her desk, looking over a blue folder.

Knox Hale sat in the chair next to her.

He looked restless. His leg was bouncing, and he was staring at his hands. He didn't look up when I walked in.

"Aria, thank you for coming," Mrs. Higgins said. "Sit down."

I sat, keeping space between me and Knox. The clock on the wall ticked like a hammer.

"Aria, you know Knox," Mrs. Higgins started.

"Everyone knows Knox," I said. My voice was flat.

"Knox is in a situation. His mid-term grades in Algebra and History are failing. Quite badly."

Knox let out a sharp breath but stayed quiet.

"If those grades don't improve by the end of the month, he’ll be ineligible for the season," Mrs. Higgins continued. "His scholarship depends on him being on the court."

"I can fix it," Knox muttered.

"You've had six weeks. Now, the school has a mandatory tutoring policy. Aria, you are the top student in both those subjects. You have a free period during his study hall. It’s a perfect match."

I felt a pit in my stomach. "Mrs. Higgins, I have my own finals to study for."

"Aria, please. Knox is a senior. Without these credits, he won't graduate. I need someone reliable."

I looked at Knox. He finally looked at me, but there was no apology. He looked annoyed. He didn't mention the hallway or his sneaker on my notes.

"I don't need a babysitter," Knox said.

"You need a passing grade," Mrs. Higgins countered. She looked back at me. "It’s three days a week. It counts toward your community service hours. Will you help him?"

I thought about the hallway. I wanted to say no. I wanted to stay invisible. But Mrs. Higgins looked worried, and Knox looked terrified under all that bravado. His future was dangling by a thread.

"Fine," I said.

Knox stood up immediately. "Whatever. See you later, Tutor."

He walked out, the door swinging shut. I sat there, listening to his foots

teps fade. My quiet life had just been traded for a seat at a table I never wanted to join.