The Girl who Spoke Back
1053 Words
By Thursday morning, the rumors had spread like wildfire.
Not whispers anymore.
Statements.
Louder.
Sharper.
More dangerous.
“She copied it.”
“I heard she stole the song from the internet.”
“Typical.”
Molly walked through the hallway, her steps steady—but her chest tight.
Click.
Step.
Click.
Step.
Every word hit.
Every glance lingered.
But something had changed.
She wasn’t shrinking anymore.
She was holding it in.
Containing it.
Like a storm waiting for the right moment to break.
At her locker, Chlo slammed the door shut harder than necessary.
“I swear, if I hear one more person say that nonsense—”
“Let them talk,” Molly said quietly.
Chlo blinked.
“Excuse me?”
Molly adjusted her bag.
“They want a reaction.”
“Well, they’re about to get one.”
Molly paused.
Then slowly turned.
“Oh… they will.”
Chlo’s expression shifted.
That tone?
It was new.
The moment came sooner than expected.
Lunch break.
Cafeteria.
Packed.
Loud.
Unforgiving.
Molly sat with Chlo, barely touching her food.
Across the room—
Lucy.
Laughing.
Performing.
Telling a story that clearly involved Molly.
People leaned in.
Interested.
Entertained.
That was it.
Molly stood.
Chlo grabbed her wrist.
“Molly…”
“It’s time.”
There was no hesitation in her voice.
No fear.
Only clarity.
She walked across the cafeteria.
Every step drawing attention.
Conversations began to quiet.
Heads turned.
Lucy noticed.
Her smile widened.
“Well, if it isn’t our rising star.”
Molly stopped in front of her table.
Silence spread.
Thick.
Anticipating.
“You took my notebook,” Molly said.
Direct.
No shaking.
No doubt.
Lucy leaned back in her chair, feigning surprise.
“Wow. Starting with accusations already?”
“Give it back.”
Lucy laughed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Molly held her gaze.
“You can lie to them.”
A pause.
“But don’t lie to me.”
A murmur rippled through the room.
Lucy’s smile faltered—just slightly.
Then she recovered.
“Even if I had it,” she said slowly,
“what would that prove?”
Molly tilted her head.
“That you’re desperate.”
Lucy’s eyes narrowed.
“And what would that make you?”
Molly didn’t hesitate.
“Someone you’re threatened by.”
The words landed.
Hard.
The cafeteria erupted into whispers.
Lucy’s friends shifted uncomfortably.
Lottie frowned.
“This is ridiculous—”
“No,” Molly cut in.
Her voice rose slightly—not shouting, but strong.
“What’s ridiculous is trying to tear someone down because you’re scared they might shine.”
Lucy stood up now.
The tension snapped.
“You think you’re special?” Lucy snapped.
“You played one song.”
“One honest song,” Molly replied.
“And that was enough.”
A collective ooh moved through the crowd.
Lucy’s face flushed.
“You don’t belong here.”
The words were sharp.
Personal.
Familiar.
They should have hurt.
They used to.
But not anymore.
Molly stepped closer.
And for the first time—
She smiled.
“Maybe not.”
A pause.
“But I’m still here.”
Silence.
Then—
Applause.
Not from everyone.
But enough.
Enough to shift the room.
Enough to change the narrative.
Lucy looked around.
The attention was no longer fully on her.
And she hated it.
“This isn’t over,” she muttered.
Molly met her gaze.
“I know.”
Outside the cafeteria, Chlo ran up to her.
“WHO ARE YOU??”
Molly laughed, adrenaline still rushing through her.
“I don’t know.”
“But I like her!”
Chlo grabbed her shoulders.
“That was insane!”
Molly exhaled deeply.
“I was shaking inside.”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“Good.”
For the first time in days—
She felt lighter.
But peace never lasted long.
Later that afternoon, Molly found something waiting for her.
On her desk.
In Music Room 3.
Her notebook.
Her breath caught.
Slowly, she walked over and picked it up.
Her hands trembled slightly.
“It’s back…”
But something felt off.
She opened it.
Flipped through the pages.
Everything was there.
But—
Ink marks.
Circles.
Words crossed out.
Comments written in the margins.
“Too basic.”
“Try harder.”
“Not original.”
Molly’s chest tightened.
This wasn’t just theft.
It was violation.
A deliberate attempt to get inside her head.
To plant doubt.
To poison what she loved.
Her grip tightened on the notebook.
“They want me to hear their voices when I write…”
Her jaw set.
“No.”
She grabbed a pen.
And without hesitation—
She flipped to the first marked page.
Crossed out Lucy’s comment.
And wrote boldly underneath:
“Still mine.”
Then the next page.
Another comment.
Another insult.
She crossed it out too.
“Still mine.”
Page after page.
Line after line.
Until every attempt to break her—
Was overwritten.
That evening, something unexpected happened.
Molly received a message.
From an unknown number.
“Hey. I’m part of a small music group in town. We saw your video. We’re hosting a live acoustic night this Saturday. You in?”
Molly stared at the screen.
Her heart raced.
Another opportunity.
Outside school.
Real audience.
Real risk.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Then—
Another message popped up.
From Finn.
“Say yes.”
She blinked.
Then another.
“Trust me.”
Molly smiled slightly.
Then typed back:
“I’m in.”
Across campus, under the dim glow of streetlights, Vic stood alone.
Lucy approached, clearly still irritated.
“She embarrassed me.”
Vic didn’t turn.
“You let her.”
Lucy scoffed.
“So what now?”
Vic’s expression remained calm.
But her eyes…
Colder than ever.
“Now,” she said softly,
“We stop playing small.”
Lucy’s lips curved slowly.
Finally.
Back in her room, Molly sat on her bed.
Notebook beside her.
Phone glowing in her hand.
A performance ahead.
A reputation shifting.
A fight just beginning.
She looked down at her notebook again.
Then whispered softly,
“They can try…”
A small smile formed.
“But they can’t take what God gave me.”
And this time—
She believed it
- Writer
