THE QUARTERBACKS UNTOUCHABLE GIRL

DUMPSTER FIRE

NOTE: THERE'S BULLYING IN THIS CHAPTER, IF IT'S NOT YOUR THING, JUST SKIP.

The morning had already felt off from the second I woke up in the guest room. Willa’s cries blasted through the monitor earlier than usual, and by the time I’d changed her soaked diaper, fed her the bottle, and played endless rounds of knocking over the ring tower while she giggled like a tiny maniac, I was already exhausted.

Rosa had given me a tired but grateful smile when she came downstairs, but the knot in my stomach only twisted tighter as Dax drove us to school in that same heavy silence. Nine minutes of radio noise and dread building in my chest about what fresh hell waited inside the building.

It was Wednesday, and Brynn had clearly decided my locker was her personal torture spot for the day.

I turned the corner from the side entrance, notebook clutched tight like some useless shield, and the vibe in the hallway flipped instantly. There she was... Brynn Whitley, holding court right in front of section C, with Madison, Chloe, and Jade H. spread out like her evil backup crew. Phones were already out, and a bunch of other kids had slowed down, smelling blood in the water.

Brynn’s face lit up with that vicious little smile when she saw me. “Oh look, the walking garbage bag decided to show her ugly face today. Late as usual, Dumpster Fire?”

I tried to keep my head down and slip past to my locker, but she stepped right into my path, all smooth and fake-casual, while the squad closed in behind her. The whole hallway did that slow-down thing... voices dropping, people pretending to check their phones while really locking in on the drama.

“Still wearing that same crusty hoodie from yesterday?” Brynn gave me a slow, disgusted once-over, nose wrinkled like I smelled rotten. “Girl, it’s Wednesday. When are you gonna stop looking like a homeless reject? Did your stepmom toss that nasty thing out with the rest of your pathetic life in those trash bags, or did you fish it out the dumpster yourself?”

Laughter spread fast through the growing crowd. A few guys in the back muttered s**t like “burn” and “she’s cooked.”

I kept my mouth shut. That was my only defense after three years... say nothing, show nothing, hope it ends quicker. But Brynn didn’t need me talking. She was putting on a full performance for everyone watching.

“You know what’s actually hilarious every time I think about it?” She leaned against the locker right next to mine, getting comfy like this was her living room. “Your own stepmom looking at your fat, worthless ass and deciding trash bags were the right move. Multiple bags, right? Like you were such a disgusting burden she couldn’t even wait to kick your lazy, smelly self to the curb.

What kind of pathetic loser gets thrown out by their own family like actual garbage? Must feel real good knowing even they couldn’t stand having your ugly face around anymore.”

Nobody stepped in, a girl from my history class walked by, clocked the scene, and suddenly found her shoes super interesting. Classic.

“Straight-up walking dumpster fire,” Madison piled on loud and proud. “That’s her brand now.”

Brynn’s grin got wider and meaner. “Dumpster Fire Thorne! Yeah, that s**t’s sticking forever, you fat bridge troll.

Smelling like baby powder and piss again today? What, you babysitting for some charity case family because no real person would let your broke, desperate ass sleep on their couch? Or are you still lying about that mystery family while you actually crash in your car like the greasy loser you are?”

“Bridge troll with a side of trailer trash,” Chloe threw in, zooming her phone closer.

“Exactly!” Brynn laughed sharp and loud. “Dumpster fire bridge troll who got bagged up like yesterday’s rotting leftovers. Do you cry yourself to sleep under that bridge every night, fatty? Curled up with the rats because nobody... and I mean nobody...wants your overweight, ugly, charity-case self? Come on, tell the class. Whose pity house are you squatting in, pretending they don’t regret letting your sad ass through the door?”

I gripped my notebook so hard my fingers hurt, replaying Willa’s giggles from this morning in my head just to stay grounded. That warm little bubble with her felt worlds away from this hallway nightmare.

My silence only fueled her. Brynn’s eyes went cold and narrow. “What, nothing again? You really are just a mute, brain-dead loser, huh? I bet you made up that whole ‘family’ story because you’re too embarrassed to admit you’re sleeping in the school bathroom or some nasty shelter. So f*****g embarrassing.

Look at you...can’t even afford new clothes, still smelling like sour milk and failure. No wonder your stepmom tossed you out. Who could actually want you?”

Six minutes on the clock. I counted every second in my head to keep from cracking.

Mrs. Petrakis appeared down the hall. She saw the whole thing... the crowd, the phones, me backed up against the lockers... and just kept walking like she was blind. Same old story.

Brynn didn’t even acknowledge her. “Still got nothing to say, you pathetic Dumpster Fire? Too busy drooling over boys who wouldn’t touch your disgusting ass with a ten-foot pole?”

That’s when Dax and a couple of his football guys rounded the corner. My stomach dropped like a rock. Brynn spotted him and lit up, raising her voice.

“Babe! Get over here, you gotta see this clown show.”

Dax glanced over. Our eyes almost connected for half a second before he looked away. He slowed down but didn’t stop, Tyler and the others smirking beside him.

Brynn waved one of the notebook pages like a flag. “Your little obsessed stalker got evicted in actual trash bags. Tell her she looks and smells like a walking garbage dump.”

Dax let out a short, low laugh that cut deep. “Damn, yeah… handle your s**t, Brynn. I don’t got time for that mess.” He didn’t look at me. Just kept walking with the guys, chuckling like it was all funny background noise.

The sound of his laugh hurt worse than the insults. He’d been in the house this morning. Left Willa with me. And here he was, playing along.

Brynn spun back to me, practically glowing. “See that? Even Dax thinks you’re a joke. He’s mine... has been, always will be. He doesn’t waste a second on ugly, fat, desperate trash like you who stares at him like a pathetic, delusional puppy begging for scraps. Newsflash, fatty: you’re invisible because you’re nothing. A gross, smelly, unwanted burden nobody wants around.”

Eight minutes.

She reached out and smoothly yanked the notebook right out of my hands. I grabbed for it and missed. She held it high, flipping pages for the whole crowd.

“Aww, look at these baby-ass drawings,” she announced, showing my tree sketch to Chloe’s camera. “She’s out here doodling trees like a depressed, talentless kindergartener. So f*****g sad and lame.”

“Give it back,” I said, voice low and steady. First words the whole time.

“Why the hell would I?” She tilted her head with that cruel queen-bee smirk. “What’s it worth to a worthless Dumpster Fire like you? Gonna cry to your fake family? Or run and beg Dax for help? Too bad he’s way too good for a disgusting, fat reject like you.”

She tore out the tree page slowly, staring me dead in the eyes the entire time. The rip echoed loud in my skull. She dropped the pieces at my feet. Then another page... my English notes. Another. And another. Shredding everything I needed, letting the strips fall like confetti while the crowd laughed.

I didn’t cry.

My jaw locked so tight it ached, eyes burning hot, I stood there like stone and took every single rip. If I broke now she’d own me forever. I breathed through my nose, pictured Willa’s happy face, and held it together with everything I had.

She finally dropped the ruined notebook on the floor, spine cracked and bent.

“Clean up your nasty mess, Dumpster Fire,” she sneered. “It fits you perfectly.” She flipped her hair and waved at the squad. “Let’s bounce, girls. I’m bored of this loser.”

They strutted off laughing, the crowd breaking up behind them like the entertainment was done.

My hands started shaking bad the second they left. I crouched down and picked up every torn scrap... the tree in jagged pieces, my notes reduced to useless strips. Each one felt like another punch.

“Hey.”

I stood up fast, clutching the mess.

Crew Holloway was there a few feet away, camera bag over his shoulder. He’d seen everything. His face was calm and careful, not drowning me in pity but something steadier.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” I lied. “Fine.”

He nodded, not pushing. “She goes harder when you don’t feed her the reaction, you actually got under her skin.”

“Great,” I muttered. “Best day ever.”

His mouth twitched almost into a smile. He glanced down the hall where Dax had gone. He’d seen that part too.

“You need anything?”

“I’m good. Really.”

“Alright. See you around, Astrid.”

He walked off the other way.

I stood there with my shredded notebook, Dax’s chuckle still burning in my ears. He’d laughed. Walked right past and kept going like I was nothing.

I opened my locker, shoved the ruined pages inside, grabbed my stuff, and headed to class like it was just another shitty Wednesday.