Chapter 3
1363 Words
Cassey Winfield
By the time I got home, there was still glitter in my hair.
I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, staring at my reflection like I was seeing a stranger. My eyes were rimmed red. My cheeks were flushed. Tiny flecks of silver sparkled in my curls and clung stubbornly to my hoodie like they were mocking me.
Charity case.
Cass the Clown.
I laughed once. Sharp. Humorless.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered.
I turned on the shower and let the water run hot, hotter than usual, until steam filled the room. I stood under it longer than necessary, scrubbing my scalp, my skin, my thoughts. But no matter how much glitter washed down the drain, the feeling stayed.
Exposure.
High school had always been cruel in small ways. Side-eyes. Rumors. Cliques. But this? This was deliberate. Public. Designed to break me down into something entertaining.
And the worst part?
It almost worked.
I wrapped myself in a towel and sat on the edge of my bed, phone buzzing beside me. I didn’t have to look to know what it was. Group chats. DMs. Screenshots.
Someone had already posted the posters online. Someone else had recorded the glitter balloon moment. Someone had slowed it down, zoomed in, added music.
I didn’t open any of it.
Not yet.
Instead, I lay back and stared at the ceiling, breathing in, breathing out, grounding myself the way my mom always taught me.
You don’t shrink, Cass.
You don’t disappear just because someone wants you to.
Marvin Woods thought he’d won today. He thought humiliation was enough to put me back in my place.
He was wrong.
The next morning, I almost didn’t wear my usual clothes.
Standing in my closet, I hesitated with my hand hovering over a hoodie. The safe choice. The invisible choice. The one that said, Please don’t look at me today.
I dropped it.
Instead, I pulled on my favorite jeans, my boots, and the red jacket I only wore when I needed armor. I tied my hair back cleanly. No glitter. No softness.
If they were going to look at me, they were going to see me standing.
The parking lot was already buzzing when I arrived. My stomach twisted as I parked, but I forced myself out of the car anyway. I didn’t look for Marvin. I didn’t look for his twin.
I walked.
The first whisper hit me near the entrance.
The second followed two steps later.
“Is that her?”
“That’s Cass.”
“Girl’s kinda fearless, though.”
I kept my face neutral. I refused to speed up.
Inside, the posters were gone. Administration must have stepped in overnight. But the damage was already done. You can rip paper off walls. You can’t erase what people remember.
By first period, the tension was thick enough to choke on.
I slid into my seat, pulled out my notebook, and focused on the board. Don’t react. Don’t flinch. Don’t give them anything new to feed on.
Halfway through class, I felt it.
That pressure.
Like eyes on the side of my face.
I didn’t turn right away. I already knew who it was.
Jace Woods sat two rows back, leaning slightly in his chair, hands folded loosely on his desk. He wasn’t staring. Not openly. But every time I shifted, every time I looked up, I caught him watching like he was cataloging details.
Not amused.
Not mocking.
Curious.
It unsettled me more than Marvin’s open hostility ever had.
I broke eye contact first and told myself it meant nothing.
By lunch, I’d had enough.
I grabbed my tray and scanned the cafeteria. The hockey table was louder than usual, like they were performing confidence for an audience. Marvin sat dead center, jacket on, arm slung over the coach’s daughter again.
He wanted me to look.
So I didn’t.
I turned the other way and headed for the quieter tables near the windows. My best friend waved me over, relief written all over her face.
“Okay,” she said the second I sat down. “Rule number one. You’re not allowed to downplay yesterday.”
I snorted. “I’m not.”
“You got targeted.”
“I know.”
“And you’re handling it way better than I would.”
I stabbed a fry a little harder than necessary. “I’m not handling it. I’m surviving it.”
She leaned closer. “What are you going to do?”
That was the question everyone wanted answered. Including me.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’m not letting him control the narrative.”
As if summoned by my resolve, laughter erupted behind me. Loud. Sharp. Familiar.
Marvin stood.
My shoulders stiffened.
“Hey, Cass!” he called across the cafeteria. “You good today? No dents? No charity drives?”
A few people laughed.
I stood slowly.
The room quieted, like everyone sensed something was about to snap.
I turned, met his gaze, and smiled.
“Doing great, Marvin,” I said clearly. “Thanks again for the donation. My mechanic loved it.”
A ripple moved through the room. Surprise. Murmurs. Someone actually clapped once before stopping.
Marvin’s smile tightened.
I didn’t wait for him to respond. I sat back down like I hadn’t just challenged the hockey captain in front of half the school.
My heart was pounding, but my hands were steady.
I felt it again then.
That stare.
I glanced past Marvin, just for a second, and caught Jace watching from the end of the table. His expression didn’t change, but something unreadable flickered behind his eyes.
Approval?
Interest?
I looked away before I could overthink it.
The real blow came last period.
I was halfway through packing up when the classroom screen flickered. Someone had hijacked it. A video started playing before the teacher could stop it.
My laugh.
My face.
The parking lot.
The glitter balloon moment, slowed down, dramatized.
Gasps rippled through the room.
My chest tightened, sharp and sudden.
“Turn that off!” the teacher shouted.
Too late.
Everyone had seen it.
I stood frozen, heat rushing to my face, my ears ringing. This was worse than the posters. Worse than the whispers. This was replayed humiliation.
I swallowed.
Then I did the one thing Marvin didn’t expect.
I raised my hand.
The teacher stared at me, startled.
“Yes, Cassey?”
I stood. My knees felt weak, but my voice didn’t.
“For the record,” I said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “I didn’t ask for that video. But if we’re playing it, let’s be clear.”
I turned toward the frozen frame of my own image on the screen.
“That’s what it looks like when someone stands up to a bully.”
Silence.
Thick. Heavy.
A few students looked down. A few looked thoughtful. One or two looked impressed.
The teacher cleared her throat and shut the screen off.
Class dismissed early.
I walked out with my head high, even though my chest ached.
In the hallway, footsteps caught up with me.
“Cass.”
I turned.
Jace Woods stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed but cautious, like he didn’t want to spook me.
We stared at each other for a beat.
“Don’t,” I said quietly. “If you’re here to defend him—don’t.”
“I’m not,” he replied.
That surprised me enough to pause.
“I just wanted to say,” he continued, voice calm, “that took guts.”
I studied him carefully. The same face as Marvin’s, but softer somehow. Quieter. No performance.
“Thanks,” I said finally. “But I don’t need a Woods brother cheering me on.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. Not a smile. Almost one.
“Fair,” he said.
He stepped back, giving me space. “Just… watch your back.”
I lifted my chin. “I always do.”
He held my gaze for a second longer, then walked away.
I watched him go, heart racing for reasons I didn’t want to name.
- Writer
