I reached my locker and began arranging my books when I felt a sudden presence beside me. I didn't look up at first. Experience had taught me that eye contact only gave people an opening to say something cruel. Then I heard his voice again.
"You dropped this."
I froze.
Slowly, I turned. It was him the president's son. Why did I keep running into him? He held out a notebook. My notebook. I hadn't even noticed it had fallen.
"Oh," I said quietly, taking it from his hand.
"Thanks."
He nodded once, his eyes scanning my face as if he were trying to read me. For a brief moment, something in his expression softened then it vanished.
"You should be more careful," he said, not unkindly this time.
And just like that, he walked away.
I stood there, unsettled. That wasn't what I expected. No insult. No shove. Just… normal.
The bell rang before I could make sense of it. I hurried to class and slid into my seat as the room filled with noise. As usual, no one sat beside me. I kept my gaze fixed on my desk, bracing myself for the whispers, the notes, the stares but they were quieter today. Not gone. Just muted.
Halfway through the lesson, the door opened.
"Sorry I'm late," a familiar voice said.
The teacher looked up, unimpressed.
"And why are you late?" she asked.
He didn't hesitate.
"Sorry, Miss Pearl," he said casually. "I was busy in the bathroom."
The class erupted into laughter.
Miss Pearl sighed and pointed toward the empty seat near the window.
"Just sit down."
My stomach dropped.
That seat was next to me, He walked down the aisle with effortless confidence and took the chair beside mine. I could feel eyes on us on me. My fingers tightened around my pen.
For the rest of the class, I couldn't focus. Every small movement felt amplified. Every breath felt too loud. When Miss Pearl turned to write on the board, he leaned slightly toward me.
"You don't have to look so tense," he whispered. "I don't bite."
I glanced at him, startled. "I'm fine."
He raised an eyebrow and gave a short chuckle. "Doesn't look like it."
I swallowed. "People usually aren't… nice to me."
He paused before replying. "I've noticed."
That caught me off guard.
"You have?"
"Yeah," he said quietly. "This school has a talent for tearing people apart."
I didn't know how to respond. No one had ever said something like that to me before,not out loud, and not without cruelty.
When the bell rang for games, I shoved my books into my bag and stood quickly. Sports was the only thing I was good at. The only place I felt useful.
As I stood up to leave the boy beside me spoke again.
"Hey. I'm Hudson," he said. "In case you were wondering."
I hesitated, then replied softly, "I know who you are."
A small smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah. But I meant my name."
"…I'm Charlotte."
"Charlotte," he repeated, grinning slightly, i didn't bother to look back at him again, I walked out of the classroom, something unfamiliar settled in my chest. It wasn't happiness. It wasn't relief, it was hope.
On the basketball court, I was fast. I was strong. And for once, no one judged me by my past. The game started perfectly I was scoring, my teammates were cheering, and for a moment, I forgot everything else.
Then, out of nowhere, a jolt of pain shot through my foot as I landed from a jump.
I tried to keep going, but it was too sharp. I limped off the court, and the coach rushed over, concern tightening his face. He pulled off my sneaker and we all froze.
There was something small lodged inside. A sharp piece of metal hidden in my shoe.
They took me to the clinic, but I couldn't get the image out of my head.
My foot throbbed, and I couldn't believe someone would do something like that.
*********
Later, when I hobbled out of the clinic, the noise of the school felt louder than usual. Every step sent a dull ache through me not sharp anymore, just heavy, like a reminder I couldn't escape.
Students stared as I passed. Some looked curious. Some looked satisfied. A few looked away too quickly.
I kept my eyes on the ground. I didn't want to see anyone's face.
Near the edge of the court, I noticed him again. Hudson stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching the players still on the court. When his eyes landed on me, his expression changed.
Not sympathy, not concern.
Just a dark, restrained anger like something had crossed a line.
"So," he said as I passed him, his voice low and sharp, "guess you're out of the game."
I stopped walking.
"I don't remember asking for your opinion," I replied quietly.
He scoffed. "Figures."
I started walking again, but his words followed me.
"Whoever did that didn't want you playing. Looks like they succeeded."
I clenched my jaw. "Enjoying this?"
He stepped closer, blocking my path just enough to be irritating. "You think I'd enjoy something that pathetic?"
"Then move," I snapped through clenched teeth. "You're in my way, Hudson."
For a second, I thought he might argue. Instead, he smirked and stepped aside.
"You should watch your back," he said. "This place isn't exactly… kind."
I laughed bitterly. "Trust me. I know."
As I walked away, I could feel his eyes on me again.
He didn't call after me.
Didn't apologize, didn't offer help, what a wacko!
After school, I went straight home, Since everything happened, I'd grown quiet at home too. The house no longer felt like a place where I could speak freely. My relationship with my parents wasn't the same anymore. Most days, I went straight to my room and stayed there. Sometimes, I didn't even come out for dinner.
Instead, I sat on my bed with my laptop, drawing and writing.
That was my escape. I loved writing especially animated series I posted online. I would lose myself sketching characters, building worlds, creating stories where people weren't judged by rumors or mistakes. When I was focused on my art, the noise in my head softened.
That evening, my mom knocked gently before opening the door.
"Charlotte," she said softly, stepping inside. "Is everything okay? Is the school still giving you a hard time?"
"I'm fine," I replied without looking up. "I just want to be alone, ma. I don't want to keep talking about it."
She walked closer, her hand resting protectively on her baby bump. "I don't want you letting all this get into your head, my child," she said gently. "Please."
I sighed and finally looked up. "Thanks, ma. I'm really okay."
Then I nodded toward her stomach, changing the subject. "How's the baby doing?"
Her face softened immediately. She smiled. "The baby is fine. He just doesn't like seeing you sad."
She paused, then added playfully, looking down at her belly, "He keeps coming to check on you."
"Say hi to your sister," she said, smiling.
I grinned despite myself and gave a small wave at her tummy, leaning closer as if the baby could see me.
After my mom left the room, the silence returned.
I sat there for a long time, staring at my screen, my thoughts drifting to my old friends, I remembered how easily they had pushed me out of the cheerleading team, how quickly they had chosen distance over loyalty. People I once laughed with now acted like I didn't exist, was still alone, had no friends.
The time on my laptop read 12:25 a.m. I hadn't even noticed how late it had gotten. With a heavy sigh, I closed it and set it aside. I knew I had school in the morning.
I lay back on my bed, resting my head against the pillow, my body exhausted but my mind wide awake. I stared at the ceiling, then closed my eyes, trying to sleep, It didn't work.
Thoughts kept circlingschool, the whispers, the looks, Hudson's voice, the court, the pain. Every memory replayed itself, louder in the quiet.
I turned onto my side, then onto my back again. The room felt too still. Too heavy,Tomorrow was another school day.
And no matter how tired I was, sleep refused to come.