Ella
After school, I tried to disappear into the crowd. My chest ached where Marcus had punched me earlier, and my hands trembled every time I replayed Nuel’s parting words. But as I slipped out the side door of the Academy, a familiar voice stopped me.
“Nuel!”
I froze, shoulders stiffening, until I realized who it was.
Scott jogged up, his messy black hair falling into his eyes, a notebook tucked under one arm. He wasn’t like the other boys at Winster academy—loud and aggressive. Scott was quiet, the kind of person you wouldn’t notice unless he wanted you to.
“Hey,” I said, relaxing a little.
“You okay?” he asked, tilting his head to study me. “You’re limping.”
“It’s nothing,” I muttered, avoiding his gaze.
He frowned, unconvinced. “What did they do this time?”
“
