Chapter 11
1873 Words
SOPHIE
Monday morning comes too fast.
I stand in front of my closet, staring at the clothes River and Avery helped me pick out. The jeans that actually fit. The tops that don't swallow me whole. The cardigan that's fitted instead of baggy.
For a second, I consider reaching for one of my old oversized shirts. The safe choice. The invisible choice.
But then I remember what River said: *You're not allowed to hide anymore.*
So I pull on the dark jeans and a burgundy sweater that actually shows I have a shape, and I look at myself in the mirror.
I still see all my flaws. The softness of my stomach. The width of my hips. The roundness of my face.
But I also see something else. Someone who's trying. Someone who's tired of apologizing for existing.
It'll have to be enough.
---
The hallway is chaos as usual when I walk into school.
Chloe's already surrounded by her friends near the main entrance, laughing about something on someone's phone. She doesn't look up when I pass. She never does.
I make it about twenty feet before the first comment hits.
"Damn, Sophie's really committed to this whole makeover thing, huh?"
It's Jessica Martinez, leaning against a locker with two of her friends. They're not in Nathan's crowd—they're theater kids, actually. But that doesn't stop them from joining in.
"I mean, good for her," one of the other girls says, loud enough for me to hear. "But like... new clothes don't fix everything, you know?"
They laugh, and I keep walking.
My face burns, but I don't look back. Don't react. Just keep moving forward like River taught me.
*Don't give them the satisfaction.*
I make it to my locker and start working the combination, my hands shaking slightly.
"Hey, Sophie!"
I turn to see Brandon Chen—no relation to Mrs. Chen from the community center—walking past with his basketball friends. He's grinning, but it's not a kind grin.
"Looking good!" he calls out. "You finally figure out how mirrors work?"
His friends crack up, and they keep walking, high-fiving each other like it's the funniest thing they've heard all morning.
I turn back to my locker and focus on breathing.
*In. Out. In. Out.*
It's not new. This is what Mondays are like. What every day is like, really. The comments, the looks, the casual cruelty that everyone pretends is just joking around.
But today it feels heavier somehow. Like I thought—stupidly, naively—that dressing differently might change something. That being seen might make people kinder.
It doesn't.
I grab my books and close my locker, then head toward first period.
That's when I see Nathan.
He's standing with Tyler, Marcus, and a couple other guys from the basketball team near the water fountain. They're in their usual spot, taking up half the hallway like they own it.
I try to walk past quickly, keeping my head down, but Tyler notices me.
"Yo, Sophie!" he calls out. "Nice sweater. You shopping at the grown-up store now?"
Marcus laughs. "Nah, man, she's just trying to impress someone. Question is, who?"
"Maybe she's got a secret boyfriend," another guy—I think his name is Jake—chimes in. "Some dude who's into, like, before-and-after projects."
They're all laughing now, and I keep walking, my face burning, my hands gripping my books so tight my knuckles hurt.
But then I realize something.
Nathan isn't laughing.
He's standing there with his friends, but he's not saying anything. Not joining in. Not adding his own comment like he normally would.
He's just... quiet.
I risk a glance back, and that's when Tyler notices too.
"Dude," Tyler says, nudging Nathan with his elbow. "Why are you being so quiet? You're never quiet."
Nathan shifts his weight, his jaw tight. "Just tired, man."
"Tired?" Marcus raises an eyebrow. "Since when does that stop you?"
"Yeah," Jake adds. "You're usually the first one with a comment. What's up?"
Nathan's eyes flick to me for just a second—so quick I almost miss it—and then he looks away.
"She already cost me forty hours of community service," he says, his voice flat. "I don't need more s**t on top of that."
The words hit me like a punch to the stomach.
Tyler laughs. "Oh damn, that's right. You got busted for that thing with her dad, didn't you?"
"Yeah," Nathan mutters. "So I'm keeping my mouth shut. Not worth it."
"Smart," Marcus says, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let the rest of us handle it."
They laugh again, and I turn away before they can see my face.
I make it around the corner and lean against the wall, trying to catch my breath.
*She already cost me forty hours of community service.*
That's what he said. Like I'm the problem. Like I'm the reason he got in trouble, not his own cruelty.
And the worst part? He's not staying quiet because he's sorry. He's not staying quiet because he realizes what he did was wrong.
He's staying quiet because he's scared of getting caught again.
It's self-preservation. Not remorse.
I close my eyes and try to sort through what I'm feeling.
Relief, maybe. Because at least he's not actively mocking me anymore. At least I don't have to hear his voice adding to the chorus of cruelty.
But also disappointment. Bitter, aching disappointment.
Because for a second on Saturday—just a second—I thought maybe he was starting to see me differently. That maybe working together at the community center was changing something.
But it's not. He's just protecting himself.
And everyone else? They're still here. Still making comments. Still treating me like I'm a joke.
Nathan stepping back doesn't change that. It just means someone else gets to take his place.
"Sophie?"
I open my eyes to see Avery standing in front of me, concern written all over her face.
"Hey," she says gently. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I lie. "Just... Monday morning, you know?"
She doesn't look convinced. "I saw what happened back there. With Tyler and those guys."
"It's fine."
"It's not fine." She steps closer, lowering her voice. "Did you notice Nathan didn't say anything?"
"Yeah." I swallow hard. "I noticed."
"That's... something, right? I mean, he's usually the worst one."
"He's not staying quiet because he's changed, Avery. He's staying quiet because he doesn't want to get in more trouble." I shake my head. "He literally said I already cost him community service. Like it's my fault he got suspended."
Avery's face hardens. "What an asshole."
"Yeah."
"But still," she says after a moment. "At least he's not actively making it worse. That's... I don't know. It's not nothing."
"It feels like nothing," I say quietly. "Because everyone else is still doing it. Jessica and her friends. Brandon and his friends. Tyler and Marcus. It doesn't matter if Nathan stops. The bullying doesn't stop. It just... shifts."
Avery reaches out and squeezes my hand. "I know. And I'm sorry. You deserve better than this."
"Do I?" The words come out before I can stop them. "Because sometimes I wonder if they're right. If I'm just... fooling myself. Thinking new clothes and a little confidence will change anything."
"Sophie—"
"I mean, look at me, Avery. I'm still the same person. Still fat. Still awkward. Still the girl nobody wants to sit with at lunch." My voice cracks. "What was I thinking? That dressing differently would make people see me as something other than a joke?"
"You're not a joke," Avery says firmly. "And the fact that they're still making comments? That just means they're scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Of you changing. Of you not playing the role they assigned you." She squeezes my hand again. "You're not supposed to fight back, Sophie. You're not supposed to dress well or hold your head up or take up space. You're supposed to stay small and quiet and invisible so they can feel better about themselves. And when you don't? When you refuse to play along? It scares them."
I want to believe her. I really do.
But right now, standing in this hallway with the echo of their laughter still ringing in my ears, it's hard to see it that way.
"Come on," Avery says, tugging me toward first period. "River's waiting for us. And you know he's going to want to hear about this."
"Great," I mutter. "More people knowing how pathetic I am."
"You're not pathetic. You're brave." She looks at me seriously. "You showed up today, Sophie. After everything that happened on Saturday, after knowing Nathan would be here, you still showed up. That's not pathetic. That's strength."
I don't feel strong. I feel tired and hurt and like I want to crawl back into my oversized hoodies and disappear.
But I follow Avery to class anyway.
Because maybe she's right. Maybe showing up is enough.
Even when it hurts.
---
At lunch, I tell River and Avery everything. About the comments in the hallway. About Nathan's silence. About what he said to his friends.
River's face goes through about five different emotions before settling on furious.
"He said you *cost* him community service?" he repeats, his voice sharp. "Like you're the problem?"
"Yep."
"That absolute—" He cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. "Okay. Okay. So he's not actually sorry. He's just covering his ass."
"That's what I figured."
"But here's the thing," Avery says, picking at her sandwich. "At least he's not making it worse. I know that's not the same as making it better, but it's something."
"Is it?" I ask. "Because it doesn't feel like something. It feels like he's just... removed himself from the equation. And everyone else is still there, still saying the same things."
River leans back in his chair, studying me. "You're right. The bullying didn't stop. It just shifted players."
"Exactly."
"But Sophie," he says carefully, "you didn't start dressing differently to make them stop. You did it for you. Remember?"
I'm quiet for a moment. "I know. But I guess part of me hoped... I don't know. That it would be different somehow."
"It will be," Avery says. "Just not overnight. And not because they suddenly decide to be decent human beings. It'll be different because you're different. Because you're not hiding anymore."
"Even when hiding feels safer?"
"Especially then."
I look down at my tray, at the lunch I barely have an appetite for.
They're right. I know they're right.
But knowing something and feeling it are two different things.
And right now, all I feel is tired.
Tired of being strong. Tired of showing up. Tired of pretending that Nathan's silence is some kind of victory when really it's just proof that he only cares about himself.
But I also know I'm not going back. I'm not putting on the oversized hoodies and disappearing again.
Because as much as it hurts to be seen and still mocked, it hurts less than being invisible.
At least now, I'm fighting back. Even if the only person who sees it is me.
And maybe that's enough.
For now.
- Writer
