Chapter 7
1674 Words
The rain didn’t stop until morning, but by then I’d already made up my mind.
Westbrook could talk, whisper, invent whatever story it wanted. I was done hiding behind the version of me everyone liked better. If Mason wanted a war, fine. I’d stop pretending there was still peace to lose.
The halls buzz louder than usual when I walk in. Heads turn. Conversations pause. I ignore them all and head straight to class.
Ryan’s already there. He looks tired, like he didn’t sleep much either. When our eyes meet, he nods once but doesn’t smile. We sit in silence until the teacher starts talking.
I can feel the weight of his disappointment between us, heavier than any rumor.
Halfway through the lesson, a note slides across my desk. No name, just one line written in neat handwriting: Stop before you ruin everything.
I glance around, but no one’s looking at me. Still, I know where it came from. Mason’s crowd sits two rows back, pretending to listen, smirking when they think I’m not watching.
I fold the note in half and pocket it.
When the bell rings, Ryan grabs my arm. “You’re not actually planning to go after him, are you?”
“I’m planning to make him stop.”
“That’s the same thing.”
I don’t answer.
He sighs. “You’re digging your own grave, man.”
“Maybe it’s time someone did.”
He stares at me for a long second, then shakes his head and walks away.
By lunch, the rumor mill has evolved again. Mason’s been posting online — carefully worded captions that don’t mention names but make it obvious who he’s talking about. He paints himself as the victim, the misunderstood one. I can see it spreading across the school network, comments stacking up like stones.
One photo in particular stops me cold — it’s from the night of the fight, taken at just the right angle to make it look like Lena was the one begging me to stop. The caption reads: Some people can’t control themselves.
The post already has over a hundred likes.
I find Mason near the back field, surrounded by a few teammates. He sees me coming and his grin widens.
“Cole,” he says, raising his hands mockingly. “Back for round two?”
“Delete the post.”
“Why? I didn’t name anyone. Freedom of speech, right?”
“You know what you’re doing.”
He laughs. “Relax. You’ll survive. She will too, if she’s smart enough to stay out of the spotlight.”
I take a step closer. “Say that again.”
He doesn’t flinch. “You think she cares about you, but you’re just another story for her. Same as you were for everyone else.”
Something snaps in my chest, not anger exactly — something sharper, colder. “You’re not worth this.”
Mason shrugs, all smugness. “Maybe not. But I’m the one winning.”
I turn away before I do something I can’t take back. He calls after me, voice lazy. “Watch yourself, Cole. You might lose more than a fight next time.”
Lena’s not in the cafeteria. Not in the library either. I finally find her outside, sitting under the oak tree near the parking lot, sketchbook balanced on her knees. She doesn’t look up when I approach.
“I saw the post,” I say quietly.
“Everyone did.”
“I’ll get him to take it down.”
Her pencil stops moving. “How? Another punch?”
“No. I’ll talk to the Dean.”
“That’s not going to change anything. You know how this school works.”
“Then what should I do, Lena? Just let him drag you through the dirt?”
She sighs, setting the pencil aside. “I don’t need you to fight for me. I just need you to stop making yourself the villain every time you try.”
“I’m not trying to be the villain.”
“Then stop acting like one.”
The words land heavy. She looks up finally, eyes tired but fierce. “You can’t fix this by breaking more things.”
I run a hand through my hair. “You think I don’t know that? I’m trying, Lena.”
“I know.” Her voice softens. “But you’re not the only one who gets hurt when you do this.”
Before I can respond, the sound of footsteps cuts through the air. Ryan appears, phone in hand, face pale.
“You need to see this,” he says.
He hands me the screen. It’s another post — this time a video. Grainy footage from the hallway before the fight. It’s cropped to show only me swinging first, not the part where Mason grabbed Lena’s sketchbook.
The caption reads: Caught in the act. Hero or fraud?
The comments are worse.
Guess the playboy finally lost it.
Didn’t think he’d actually hit someone.
Poor Mason.
My stomach twists. “Where did he get this?”
“Security cameras,” Ryan says quietly. “Someone must have leaked it to him.”
Lena stands slowly, watching me. “They’re going to use this against you.”
“Then I’ll tell the truth.”
Ryan shakes his head. “No one will listen. The narrative’s already written.”
I hand him the phone back. “Then I’ll rewrite it.”
Ryan’s voice hardens. “Aiden, listen to yourself. You’re not thinking straight. This is exactly what he wants. You’re playing into it.”
I step closer, lowering my voice. “Maybe I’m done letting people control what happens to me.”
“You’re going to get expelled.”
“Then I’ll go out with the truth.”
Ryan stares at me like he doesn’t recognize me anymore. “You’re not the guy I used to know.”
“Maybe you never really knew me.”
The words slip out before I can stop them. I regret them instantly, but Ryan’s already backing away.
“Good luck,” he says quietly, then turns and leaves.
Lena watches him go, then looks at me. “He’s right, you know.”
“About what?”
“That you’re letting this consume you.”
I laugh bitterly. “It already has.”
She takes a cautious step closer. “Then stop. Walk away before there’s nothing left to save.”
I look at her, and for a second, I want to. I want to let it all go — the anger, the rumors, the noise. But I can’t. Not when Mason’s still out there turning her into a punch line.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
She exhales, shaking her head. “Then I guess you’re on your own.”
She starts walking away, but her voice drifts back, soft but certain. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Aiden.”
I don’t.
But that night, I make a decision anyway.
The school’s computer lab is empty after hours. I know the system — I’ve helped with the student website before. It doesn’t take long to find the public access network, to queue a post of my own.
No captions, no edits. Just the full, uncut video from that day — the part Mason trimmed out. The footage where he steals Lena’s sketchbook, where he laughs, where I tell him to stop. The truth, plain and raw.
It’s risky. Stupid, maybe. But I hit upload anyway.
By the time I walk out, the halls are dark and quiet. My reflection stares back from the trophy case — perfect posture, perfect uniform, the perfect lie. I barely recognize him.
The next morning, chaos hits.
The video spreads fast. Comments flip, alliances shift. Some people defend me. Others double down. Mason plays the victim again, claiming I edited it to frame him.
By third period, I’m called back to the Dean’s office.
He looks tired this time. “Aiden, what on earth were you thinking?”
“I told the truth.”
“You violated school policy by tampering with security footage.”
“I didn’t tamper with anything.”
“Regardless, the situation has escalated. Mason’s parents have threatened legal action.”
I stare at him, stunned. “For posting the truth?”
“For defamation, according to them. You’ve put the school in a difficult position.”
I can feel the ground slipping under me. “So what happens now?”
He leans forward, voice grave. “We’re suspending you indefinitely while we investigate.”
The word indefinitely echoes in my head, hollow and final.
When I walk out of the office, Lena’s standing in the hallway, waiting. Her expression says she already knows.
“They’re suspending you,” she says quietly.
“Yeah.”
“Because of me.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Because of him. Because this place protects its own lies.”
She takes a step closer, voice trembling just a little. “I told you not to do this.”
“I had to.”
“For what, Aiden? For your pride?”
“For the truth.”
She looks away, eyes glistening. “Sometimes truth costs too much.”
I want to tell her it’s worth it — that she’s worth it — but the words won’t come.
Mason walks by then, grin smug and victorious. “Told you, Cole. You’d lose more than a fight.”
Lena turns on him, fury flashing across her face, but I grab her hand before she can speak.
“Don’t,” I whisper. “He’s not worth it.”
She looks at me, then at him, then back again. Her hand tightens in mine for just a second — and then she pulls away.
When she leaves, the hall feels colder.
Mason’s laughter follows me down the corridor, echoing off the walls like a promise.
And for the first time, I start to wonder if I’ve already lost more than I meant to.
- Writer
