Return, Rebuild, Rise
850 Words
Two weeks had passed since Ava fainted in school and was diagnosed with malaria fever—a rare case in their region, but the doctor suspected she might have contracted it during a recent park cleanup with her community service group. Whatever the cause, those two weeks had been a whirlwind of silence, rest, and intentional solitude.
During her recovery, her phone buzzed non-stop with messages from classmates asking if she was okay. Some messages were sweet, others a bit nosy. But two stood out every time she unlocked her screen.
Ethan: Heard what happened. Are you okay? Please let me come by. I’m really worried.
Jordan: I know you need space, but I’m just outside if you want to talk. No pressure.
Ava read every message.
But she didn’t respond.
She couldn’t. Not yet.
She needed to breathe—to rediscover who she was outside the chaos of boys, bullies, and broken trust. So, she ignored the calls, declined visits, and asked her mom to say she was resting every time the doorbell rang.
Returning to school felt like stepping into a new season. The halls buzzed with whispers and curious stares. People approached her in between classes, some with genuine concern.
"Ava, you good now? We missed you!"
"Girl, I heard you passed out. That’s wild. You okay?"
"Don’t scare us like that again, alright?"
She smiled politely, gave short answers, and kept walking. She didn’t stop to chat. Not even when Ethan leaned against her locker during third period break.
“Glad you’re back,” he said softly.
She looked at him—those stormy eyes filled with worry—and nodded. “Thanks,” was all she said before walking past him.
Jordan tried too. He offered her a chocolate bar and a crooked smile between classes.
She gave the chocolate to a junior student and kept moving.
Later that day, the buzzing chatter in English class quieted when Mr. Rhodes cleared his throat.
"Alright, seniors,” he announced, “This year, for the first time, Lincoln High has been invited to participate in the All-State Interschool Female Debate Championship.”
Excitement rippled through the room.
“Each participating school will be represented by two final-year girls. After reviewing GPAs, participation, and previous debate scores, we’ve shortlisted two of our very best—Madison Cross and Ava Morales.”
The class erupted into gasps and murmurs.
Ava’s eyes widened.
Madison smirked.
“Final selection will be done through voting,” Mr. Rhodes continued. “Voting starts Friday. One vote per student. Keep it clean—no campaigning, no bribery. Understood?”
The class murmured agreement.
The debate topic was written on the board:
“Is Modern Feminism Still Achieving Its Purpose in Today’s Society?”
Ava immediately felt a surge of anxiety. This wasn’t just any topic. It was complex, controversial, and layered. She jotted it down, already brainstorming.
As the bell rang, Madison leaned in with a smug smile. “May the best girl win. Though… we both know who that’ll be.”
Ava held her gaze, silent but steady.
Over the next few days, Ava buried herself in research. During lunch breaks and after classes, she visited the school library, combed through online sources, and made flashcards. She was determined to win this—not for pride, but because it felt like the one thing she could still control.
Meanwhile, Madison had other plans.
“Twenty bucks for a vote,” she whispered to a group of juniors behind the gym.
“You serious?” one of them asked.
She flashed a wad of bills. “Serious as a heart attack. You vote for me, and maybe I toss in an extra five.”
The deal was done in hushed tones and quick handshakes. Madison thought she was being subtle. But rumors travel fast.
That evening, Ava’s mom knocked gently on her door. “How was school today, baby?”
Ava looked up from her flashcards. “Good. Tiring. They picked me for a debate competition.”
Her mom lit up. “That’s wonderful!”
“I haven’t won yet. We still have to vote. And… Madison’s the other candidate.”
Her mom’s smile faded slightly. “That girl again?”
Ava nodded. “She’s already bribing students, I’m sure of it.”
“Then you’ll win fair. With your brain, your words, and your heart.”
Ava smiled, a little.
She needed that.
That night, she sat by her window, notes scattered on her desk. She glanced at her phone—more unread messages from Ethan and Jordan. She still wasn’t ready.
Instead, she wrote her opening speech, her heart beating with each word:
“Feminism is not a weapon. It’s a voice. A voice for those who were once silenced. Today, I ask—are we listening to that voice? Or are we too distracted by the noise?”
Her fingers paused.
Something was changing.
She was changing.
And as the stars blinked outside her window, Ava Morales prepared for a new chapter—not of silence or pain, but of purpose.
- Writer
