Damned but mine

Chapter 2

“f**k,” a voice sighed from the doorway, low and careless. “Sorry I’m late.”

The room turned instantly. A girl strolled in like she owned the place, every eye tracking her. Brunette, short hair, black leather jacket clinging to her frame, ripped jeans hanging low on her hips. Earphones dangled carelessly from her neck, black shades shielding half her face. She looked like she’d walked straight out of a music video and into the wrong class.

Whispers erupted, harsher than the ones I’d gotten. Some students laughed, others sneered. I caught the word bitchthrown from the back, but if she heard it, she didn’t care. She didn’t even flinch.

“Melanie,” the teacher’s voice cut through the tension.

The girl stopped mid-step. I saw her roll her eyes, then exhale like she’d been asked to do something painfully inconvenient. She turned slowly and dragged herself toward the front of the class.

“You want to tell us why you’re late?” Mr. Eric asked, his tone already tired, like this wasn’t the first time.

Her lips curved–not into a smile, but something close to mockery. “Family matters,” she said flatly, and for a second, her gaze flicked to mine before she tossed her hair and looked away.

The class buzzed immediately, feeding off her words. Mr. Eric pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s your excuse every time. First day back, and you’re late again. ‘Family matters’ won’t keep saving you, Melanie.”

“Mel,” she corrected, her voice sharp, eyes narrowing behind those dark lenses.

“What?” the teacher blinked, thrown off.

“I prefer Mel.” She said it like it was law, like only an i***t would ignore it.

The class gasped. Whispers turned into low giggles, but her face didn’t change. She stood there, bored, unmoved, as if none of this was worth her time.

“And why exactly should I apologize to the class?” she continued coolly. “It’s not like anyone here gives a s**t about me.”

I leaned back in my seat, hiding a smirk. The guts on this girl… damn.

“There is a new student here, and you will not embarrass me in front of him or anyone else,” the teacher snapped, finally losing patience.

Her head tilted slightly. She let the silence stretch, then said, “What’s it to me if there’s a new student? He’s probably just going to fit in like everyone else–smiling, ass-kissing, pretending this school is heaven.” She paused, lips twitching as if she was about to say something crueler but thought better of it. “Everyone here’s the same anyway.”

The room went dead quiet.

“Melanie,” Mr. Eric started, but she cut him off again, her tone suddenly dripping sarcasm.

“To the beloved new student,” she said, turning dramatically, scanning the class like she didn’t know damn well I was sitting right there. “Welcome to our fine institution. Please don’t let my behavior make you think less of us. We’re all model students striving for honor and glory.”

The way she said it made my lip curl. The girl was mocking every word, and she didn’t care who knew it.

“Forgive me, teacher. Forgive me, class. And forgive me, most of all, beloved new student, for this shameful display.” She bowed low, her voice laced with venomous sweetness, then straightened with a smirk tugging at her mouth.

The class snickered nervously. I couldn’t help myself–a quiet chuckle slipped out. For the first time since I walked into this school, I wasn’t bored.

Maybe California wasn’t going to be such a drag after all.

*

I followed the crowd into the cafeteria, the noise hitting me all at once—shouts, laughter, trays slamming down on tables. Same old setup as every school: the cliques. The couples who couldn’t keep their hands off each other, the nerds clutching their laptops like lifelines, the loud athletes, the cheerleaders, the lonely ones. Back in Florida, I had my table—Rosé, my friends, the team. Here, I had nothing. Just a tray of mac and cheese, nuggets, and an apple in my hands, and no idea where to sit.

I spotted an empty table tucked in the corner and made my way over. Fine. I’d be one of the lonely ones today. Honestly, it didn’t bother me. I placed my tray down and sat, glad for a second of peace.

“Nick!”

The shout cracked through the noise, and I looked up, startled. A group of guys were grinning, laughing like they owned the place, trays clattering onto the table beside mine. The football team. I used to be one of them, but today I wasn’t in the mood.

“It’s Nick, right?” one of them asked, already sliding into the seat across from me.

“Yeah,” I muttered, not matching his energy.

“I’m Frank. Frank Mortan.” He stuck out his hand with a faint smile. I hesitated, debating whether to ignore him, but his hand hung there awkwardly, so I gave in and shook it.

“Alright!” he said loudly, way too excited for my taste. “This is Carlos.” He grabbed the guy next to him by the shoulder. “And this is Thomas Wilson.” He kept pointing and naming them all like I was going to memorize every face. I didn’t.

“Cool,” I said, nodding, more focused on cutting into my food than playing buddy-buddy.

But Frank didn’t stop talking. He launched into stories about himself, the school, the team, the coach—his mouth running a mile a minute. I tuned out halfway through. It’s something I always do; once I’m uninterested, the words just blur into noise.

Then he finally turned the spotlight on me. “So how did you end up here? You said Florida, right?”

“Yeah. My dad’s job—”

“Carlos here moved for the same reason!” Frank cut me off, patting Carlos like it was some bonding moment.

Carlos shrugged, adjusting his glasses. “It’s been fun, I guess. Being with them.” He gestured at the table. The rest of them made an exaggerated “aww,” teasing him.

If only it were that easy, I thought.

Frank leaned closer, lowering his voice as if we were sharing state secrets. “We’re not supposed to tell you this since Coach said not to bother you today, but… are you really that good?”

My brows pulled together. “Good at what?”

“You played at your old school, right?” Thomas jumped in, eyes sharp on me.

“Uh… yeah,” I answered slowly.

“Then why are you acting shocked?” Thomas pressed. “I heard you were captain.”

My jaw tightened. How the hell did they know that?

“Coach says your mom told the principal this morning,” Carlos chimed in.

I blinked, almost choking on a laugh. “My mom?”

“She told him,” Carlos insisted.

I leaned back, chuckling in disbelief, though anger simmered beneath it. Of course. I’d left her in the office with the principal—probably exactly when she’d spilled everything I didn’t want anyone here knowing.

Frank smirked. “Coach didn’t buy it at first. Thought it was just another mom hyping up her kid. But then he looked you up online. Captain. Wins. Headlines. You even played against us once—Titans versus Eagles. You killed us.”

He kept talking, but my mind was already drifting. We’d faced so many teams I’d lost count. The only ones etched into memory were the Thunderbolts, because they were the bastards who actually beat us.

“So,” Frank said, dragging me back, “are you really that good? How’d you get all those wins?”

The whole table leaned in, waiting for me to brag. I could’ve. God knows I had enough highlights to rub in their faces. Instead, I smirked, shrugged like it wasn’t worth the effort.

I shrugged as I opened my mouth to speak. “You could say…”

But the words slipped away when I saw her—the girl from class. Melanie. She was far ahead, tray in hand, sliding into an empty seat like she didn’t give a damn about anyone else in the room. She tucked her hair behind her ear and started eating, looking way too calm for someone who’d snapped at the teacher earlier.

“Nick!” Fingers snapped in front of my face, snapping me back.

“Sorry,” I muttered, though my eyes still drifted her way.

“Melanie?” Frank’s tone was sharp, and when I turned, the whole table was already grinning at me.

I laughed weakly. “I was just–”

“Don’t,” Thomas cut me off, shaking his head like he was doing me a favor. “Trust me, stay the hell away from her.”

“Seriously, man,” Frank added, leaning in. “That girl’s toxic. Like… the definition of f****d-up.”

I raised a brow, trying to brush it off. “Relax. I wasn’t checking her out. Just surprised she’s sitting alone.”

“She’s always alone,” Thomas sneered. “Nobody wants to deal with her crazy ass. She blows up at everyone–teachers, students, doesn’t matter. One time she cursed out a senior and nearly got suspended. Dumb b***h doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“Smart as hell, though,” Carlos chimed in, pushing up his glasses. “She aces everything.”

“But she’s such a stuck-up freak about it. Makes you wanna punch her face in.” Thomas butts in.

“She probably cheats anyway,” another guy muttered.

Frank snorted. “Nah, man. She’s just one of those freaks who studies all night because she’s got no life. No friends. No boyfriend. Nobody wants to touch her anyways because she’s batshit crazy.”

They all laughed, and Thomas leaned back in his seat, shaking his head. “Rumor is her family’s messed up, too. Always telling people her dad’s a drunk or some s**t. She loves playing the victim card.”

“Attention-seeking slut,” someone else said under his breath, and the table roared again.

“You saw the way she was in class,” Frank continued. “The way she spoke to Mr. Eric? Total trainwreck.”

“She’s full of s**t,” someone else muttered.

They kept piling it on, laughing at her name, twisting stories until she was nothing more than a joke between them.

Either way, I suddenly hated how damn loud this group was.

“Oh,” I said flatly, letting the word hang while my eyes drifted back to her table. Empty. She’d already left.

Figures.

“Anyway,” Frank said, brushing it off like she was yesterday’s news, “back to more important things. The big question–are you joining our team?” His voice had that edge of excitement again, and every pair of eyes landed on me.

I leaned back in my chair, weighing it. Playing again tempted me more than I wanted to admit, but the thought of a new team, new faces, new bonds–it didn’t feel right yet. My old team back in Florida still clung to me, heavy and raw.

“I’ll…” I started slowly.

“Wait! Wait!” Thomas cut me off, smacking Frank’s shoulder with a grin. “Forget football for now—the beauties are coming.”

The table erupted with whistles and laughter as I turned my head to see who he meant.

They all turn back, and I see a wide smile on Frank’s face. The rest of them also smile as the cheerleaders make their way towards us. The guys start drumming on the table, and I chuckle, wishing I could just disappear from all this noise.

The cheerleaders have their hair pulled back into classic ponytails with large red ribbons. They look bubbly, pretty, and all in great shape. Right in the middle is the girl from class who had a fun exchange with the teacher and kept looking my way. A few more steps and they’re standing in front of our table.

“That was f*****g loud. You guys trying to bust eardrums or just brainless?” the girl says, bending down to kiss Frank on the lips. The other girls find their way to the boys, matching themselves up; I think some of them are dating.

She glances at me with a smirk. “You’re the new kid, right? You look lost already. Hope you’re not another boring transfer.” She wipes the lip gloss off Frank’s lips without breaking eye contact. Her blue eyes are sharp, beautiful even—but not as pretty as Rosé’s. For f**k’s sake, I seriously need to stop thinking about Rosé.

I nod. “But I wouldn’t say ‘kid’ if I were you.” I smirk, and she chuckles softly.

“I’m Diana. Diana Lopez. Easy to remember.”

“I’m—”

“Nick West,” she cuts me off, chuckling nervously as she glances around the table. “He said it in class earlier. Relax, I’m not stalking you.”

Her eyes flick back to mine, bold and steady. “Well, I’ll be seeing you knuckleheads later. The girls and I have s**t to do.” She waves lazily and struts off, the rest of the cheerleaders groaning but following her.

“Isn’t she the best?” Frank grins, watching her go. “We’ve been together since forever. I can’t imagine being with anyone except her.” His eyes stay glued to her until she’s out of sight. Then he turns back to me. “I’m betting you’ve hit it with a lot of girls back at your old school.” The table falls silent, all of them watching me.

I chuckle, shaking my head. “I had someone. Just someone.” The thought of her makes me smile, and instantly I regret leaving Florida—my friends, and most of all, Rosé.

Three hours later, classes were over. The football team said their goodbyes before heading to practice. I’d told Mom I could come home by myself, so here I am, walking out of the school gate. My phone keeps ringing, and I don’t need to look at the screen to know it’s her. Still, just in case it’s miraculously Rosé, I check. No surprise—it’s Mom. I don’t pick up. Even though I’m not entirely sure of the way home, I just need to find the bus stop.

Sliding my phone back in my pocket, a car horn jolts me. A car pulls up beside me, and when I glance down, my eyes widen—it’s Diana.

“Need a ride, kid?” she smirks, dragging the word out.

I squint, pretending to be puzzled. “Was it… Da… Dana?” I ruffle my hair like I’m struggling to remember.

She bursts out laughing. “Nice one. It’s Diana. Diana Lopez.” She leans to pop the door open, but I beat her to it.

“Thanks,” she chuckles. “Get in.”

“You don’t have to. I kinda know my way around,” I say, glancing around. “I just have to walk a little further and take a left. Or… wait, maybe it’s a right. Fuck.”

She smirks. “Yeah, you’re totally a local. Hop in before you get yourself kidnapped.”

I close my eyes, smiling in defeat. I’ve been angry since we moved here—at my parents, at myself, at everything. Maybe a ride won’t kill me.

“Alright.” I sling my bag off and slide in.

As we buckle up, I feel her watching me. I clear my throat. “So, Frank…” I drop his name on purpose, a reminder she’s taken.

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to drool over him in front of you. He’s probably stuffing his face at Thomas’s anyway.”

My brows furrow. “But they said they were heading to practice.”

“Cute.” She laughs. “They always say that. First day of school, they ditch practice. Coach doesn’t care. Chill guy.”

“No wonder they could never beat us back in Florida,” I think to myself.

“Tell you what,” she says suddenly, excitement sparking in her tone. “Why don’t I take you there instead?”

“Uh.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I’d rather just go home.” The last thing I want is to crash some party.

“You don’t wanna go? It’s fun.” She grins.

“Yeah, I bet. But my mom will freak out if I don’t get home early.” I pause, realizing how that sounds. “Not that I’m not allowed to. I’ve thrown and crashed plenty of parties back in Florida. Didn’t give a damn about my parents. But she knows I don’t know my way around yet, and she gets worried easy. She might call the cops if she thinks I’m missing.”

Diana smirks, shrugging. “Suit yourself, pretty boy. Guess you’d rather cuddle with mommy than actually see what fun looks like.”

I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head.

Mom had sent me the GPS route, so Diana used it to drive me home. The ride felt longer than it should, making me wonder if she was dragging it out on purpose. The whole time, memories of Rosé crept in—driving around, loud music, the way she made everywhere feel alive. The guilt twists in my chest.

When we finally pull up, Mom’s waiting on the porch. Of course she is. I sigh, thank Diana, and hop out. She greets Mom politely before driving off.

“Such a sweet girl,” Mom says as I walk past her.

I take off my shoes and head for the stairs.

“Such a nice girl, isn’t she?” she repeats.

I stop, turning slowly. “You told the principal about me playing football at my old school?”

She freezes, her guilt obvious. “I… I might’ve mentioned it by mistake.”

“Was that so hard?” I mutter, climbing the stairs to my room.