Never Free

Ch. 6 The Quiet Battles

One year later…

He had the answer. He was sure of it.

“Seven minus four, times two,” Brandon announced with full confidence. “Six.”

Ms. Kendry tilted her head, lips pursed in hesitation. And then, of course, Xochi raised her hand.

Her voice was soft—quiet and gentle like she always was—but her words still carried.

“I think it’s three,” she said carefully. “You subtract last.”

A pause. Then a nod from Ms. Kendry. “Correct, Xochi. Good catch.”

Someone chuckled from the back of the classroom.

Brandon let out a forced little laugh, pretending not to care. But inside, something sharp dug into him. A stupid mistake. And she just *had* to correct him. Just had to make him look dumb. In front of everyone.

And worse—Byron had looked at her.

Not laughed. Not smirked. Just looked. Really looked.

Like she mattered.

Their classroom only had twelve students, all varying in age, all packed together into one stuffy room that smelled of chalk and cedar. Ms. Kendry did her best, but she was well past the age of retirement. Most days, it felt like the students were running the class more than she was. Older kids helped the younger ones. Questions were answered by whoever knew the material best. Xochi always knew the material.

It wasn’t just that she was smart—though she was. It was how calm she was about it. How kind. She never showed off. She never gloated. But somehow, that made it worse.

It made it feel like she wasn’t even trying.

Brandon watched her as she returned to scribbling in her notebook. She drew during lessons. Not like some kids, who doodled stick figures and hearts. No, Xochi sketched whole worlds—gears and wolves and vines twisting through ruins. He didn’t know how she learned to do that. He didn’t want to know.

Byron leaned over and whispered something to her. She smiled.

Brandon crushed his pencil in half.

By the time dinner came, the feeling hadn’t gone away. It festered through the evening like a splinter under his skin. Xochi sat across from him at the table, eating quietly. Byron passed her the bread before she even asked. Brandon watched that exchange with narrowed eyes.

She wasn’t like the rest of them. That much had always been clear. Brandon could feel it, even if no one ever said it out loud. The way the elders looked at her. The way Amber whispered her name made it seem like it meant something more. She wasn’t just some orphan they’d taken in. She was something else. Something important.

But she didn’t act like it. She didn’t grovel or beg. She didn’t *submit.* And that made Brandon furious.

Later, when Byron and Xochi were sent off to wash up for bed, Brandon lingered.

He twirled his spoon through the last of his stew, waiting just long enough for Amber to notice.

“Something on your mind?” she asked, dabbing her lips with a cloth napkin.

He sighed, slow and practiced. “Xochi embarrassed me in class today.”

Her eyes didn’t move. But he kept going.

“She corrected me. Out loud. Like I was dumb or something.” He paused, then added with a frown, “She laughed, too. Got the others to laugh with her.”

That got her attention. Amber’s wine glass stopped mid-air.

“She laughed?” Her tone was clipped, polished. Cold.

He gave a small shrug, like it didn’t bother him that much. But his eyes held a different truth. “It just made me feel like… maybe she thinks she doesn’t have to listen to me.”

Amber’s lips curled into something sweet and terrible.

“Well. Sounds like she needs a reminder of who’s in charge.” She set down her glass with care and leaned in to kiss her golden boy on the temple. “Mama will handle this.”

Brandon went to bed that night with a smile on his face. He didn’t have to do anything else. He’d handed it over. And she would take care of the rest.

The next day, it happened right away.

Ms. Kendry read aloud from a folded note, sealed with Amber’s wax insignia.

“Xochitl will no longer be participating in regular lessons. She has been reassigned to special duties—effective immediately.”

The classroom froze.

Xochi blinked from her desk. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Ms. Kendry said, her voice tired, “you’ll be helping in the supply cabin for the next few weeks.”

A few students glanced at Brandon. No one said anything.

“It’s not a punishment,” Ms. Kendry added quickly. “Just a reassignment.”

But it felt like one.

Xochi stood slowly. She didn’t argue. Didn’t cry. Just gathered her things and walked out with quiet dignity. Her boots barely made a sound on the worn wooden floor.

Brandon leaned back in his seat. He didn’t smirk. Didn’t laugh.

But he felt it.

That delicious, hollow victory.

Not because she got in trouble.

But because he made it happen.

And she would remember that.