Chapter 3 Aftermath

I didn't expect to see him again so soon.

The next morning, I turned the corner to my locker and there he was. Liam Whitmore. Leaning against the lockers like he owned them. Which, technically, his family probably did.

I stopped walking.

He looked different than the day before. Less broken. More like the Liam everyone knew. But something in his eyes was softer. Like the floor-sitting version of him hadn't fully disappeared.

"Maya," he said.

"Liam."

"You're not very good at staying away from me."

"You're the one standing at my locker."

He pushed off and took a step closer. I took a step back. My shoulders hit the lockers. Cold metal through my thin uniform.

"I wanted to thank you," he said. "For yesterday. Not telling anyone."

"I told you. Who would I tell?"

"Noa."

I blinked. "You know Noa?"

"Everyone knows Noa. She's the only person at this school who's not afraid of me."

"That's because she's not afraid of anyone."

He almost smiled. Almost.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he said.

"That's what they all say."

"Who's they?"

I didn't answer. He waited. The hallway was empty. Early morning. The first bell hadn't rung.

"Look," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I know I was a jerk. The other day. In the hallway. The stuff I said about you not belonging here. I shouldn't have—"

"You were right."

He stopped.

"I don't belong here," I said. "Everyone knows it. You just said it out loud."

"That doesn't make it okay."

"It doesn't make it wrong either."

He stared at me. I stared back. My hands were shaking. I didn't know why. Fear? Anger? Something else?

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For which part? The scholarship trash comment? The thing about my blazer? Telling me to go back to the east side?"

His jaw tightened. "All of it."

I wanted to stay angry. I wanted to hold onto the hate because it was warm and familiar. But his eyes were different now. They weren't cruel. They were tired.

"Apology accepted," I said.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. I don't have the energy to stay mad at you. I have bigger problems."

"Your mom's job."

I froze. "How do you know about that?"

"Sabrina. She posted everything. Everyone knows."

Of course. The screenshots. The financial records. My mother's name on the wall like a trophy.

"Right," I said. "Everyone knows."

"Maya—"

"Don't." My voice cracked. "Don't feel sorry for me. I can't handle that right now."

He stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell his soap. Clean. Warm. The same as the jersey.

"I don't feel sorry for you," he said quietly. "I feel sorry for me. Because I was raised to be the kind of person who says those things to you. And I don't want to be that person anymore."

My chest hurt.

"Then don't," I said.

"Maybe you can help me with that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He opened his mouth to answer—

Click.

We both turned.

Sabrina stood at the end of the hallway. Phone in her hand. Red light recording.

She wasn't crying anymore. Her mascara was fresh. Her eyes were sharp.

"Well, well," she said. "The scholarship girl and my ex. How cozy."

Liam stepped in front of me. Protective. Like that would help.

"It's not what you think, Sabrina."

"It never is." She lowered the phone. Smiled. "But the video doesn't lie. You two. Alone. Before school. Talking about feelings."

"I was apologizing."

"For what? For finally admitting you're tired of pretending?" Her eyes flicked to me. "Or for cheating on me with the charity case?"

"I never cheated on you."

"No one will believe that." She tucked her phone into her bag. "By lunch, everyone will know that Liam Whitmore dumped me for the scholarship girl. And you know what? Let them. You deserve each other."

She turned and walked away. Her heels clicked against the tile. Final. Angry.

The hallway went silent again.

I stared at Liam. "She's going to ruin both of us."

"I know."

"You should have just ignored me. Walked away. Pretended I didn't exist."

"I know."

"Then why didn't you?"

He looked at me. Really looked. Like he was seeing me for the first time.

"Because I'm tired of pretending," he said.

The first bell rang.

I grabbed my books and walked to class without looking back.

---

By second period, the video was everywhere.

Not the breakup video. This was new. Liam and me. Standing close. His body blocking mine. Her caption: "So this is why he dumped me. Guess scholarship girls have their uses."

Three thousand views. Twelve hundred shares. The comments were vicious.

"She's so desperate."

"She probably threw herself at him."

"Get her out of this school."

Noa slid into her seat next to me. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Not really."

"Tough. Talk."

I told her everything. The hallway. The apology. Sabrina recording.

Noa listened. Didn't interrupt. When I finished, she said one word.

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"No."

She put her hand on mine. "You will be."

I wanted to believe her.

---

At lunch, I didn't go to the cafeteria. Noa brought me a granola bar and we sat in the art room. Her sanctuary. Clay dust and paint fumes.

"She's gonna make your life hell," Noa said.

"She already does."

"This is different. Before, you were just in her way. Now you're the reason her relationship ended."

"I didn't end their relationship. He ended it. Before we even talked."

"It doesn't matter. Perception is reality."

I broke the granola bar in half. Gave her the bigger piece.

"What do I do?"

"Nothing. Lay low. Let it blow over."

"And if it doesn't?"

Noa didn't have an answer for that.

---

After school, I went to my locker.

There was a jersey inside.

Blue and gold. Kensington colors. Brand new. Tags still on.

A note tucked in the sleeve.

"Wear it to the game on Friday. Consider it a peace offering. — L"

I stared at it.

Noa appeared behind me. "Is that from him?"

"Yes."

"Are you gonna wear it?"

"I don't know."

"You should."

"Why?"

"Because he's trying. And because it'll make Sabrina absolutely furious."

I almost smiled. Almost.

I folded the jersey, put it in my backpack, and walked out of the school.

The bus ride home was long. The rabbit on my ceiling was still there. My mom was still at work.

I lay in bed and thought about Liam's eyes. The way he said he was tired of pretending.

I was tired too.

Tired of being invisible. Tired of being poor. Tired of being the girl everyone hated.

Maybe wearing the jersey was a bad idea.

But maybe bad ideas were all I had left.