MILLICENT
Saturday started with the kind mood that told you it was only gonna be trouble. The sky was an ugly gray, like the heavens had already given up on us and couldn’t be bothered to fake a smile anymore.
People were dragging their boots over roots and gravel, shoulders hunched, backpacks sagging like they’d stuffed all their teenage regrets into them.
Some were too tired to even fake energy. Others still buzzed from last night’s drama like someone had spiked the bonfire with gossip and gasoline.
Me? I wasn’t just tired.
I was running on fumes, rage, shame, and a sick twist of anxiety that made my stomach cramp every time Sandra looked at me across the field like I was prey she’d already marked.
I didn’t talk to Zayne and neither had I even seen Xander. I didn’t even talk to
