More Than What They See

CHAPTER 17: Back to How It Was

Rhian’s POV

When we returned to school the next day, it was like the camping trip never happened at all. Everything went back exactly to how it always was—the whispers that followed me wherever I went, the judging looks whenever I passed by, and the same old teasing from Gio and Jace. And just like before, Francis was right there beside them—laughing when they laughed, joining in every cruel joke, and never showing even a tiny hint that he was any different from the rest. It was as if those quiet moments at the camp never existed, as if he had never walked me part of the way home or helped me find that plant in the woods.

One morning our teacher called me to the board to write the answer on the space provided. I held the chalk tight and started writing carefully. Before I could even finish the sentence, Jace walked quietly behind me and suddenly covered my hand with his own, pressing down hard so I could not move or write properly.

“Your handwriting is so ugly,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear. “It looks like a child wrote it. It is like you never even learned how to write properly at all.”

Gio stepped closer and leaned against the board. “Exactly. Maybe school is just not for you. You should just stay home and do the work you are actually good at.”

I pulled my hand away slowly and turned to face them. My eyes searched for Francis over their shoulders. He stood right behind them, watching me with a serious, unreadable face. I held my breath and waited, hoping against hope that he would say something to stop them. But he just shook his head slowly and spoke sharply, sounding annoyed rather than concerned.

“Enough already,” he said flatly. “We will get in trouble if the teacher comes back. Just finish what you are doing so we can sit down.”

My heart sank even deeper than before. Why did I keep hoping? Why did I keep looking for something that was never there? This was really how he was—when others were watching, he was just as cruel, just as cold, and just as heartless as the rest of them.

Later that afternoon, while I was putting my things inside my bag, Jace bumped my desk hard so my pens and papers scattered all over the floor.

“Oops,” he said without even looking sorry. “You should keep your things properly.”

I knelt down to pick them up, and Gio kicked one of my pencils across the room. “Go get it, Rhian. Or are you too lazy to move?”

Francis just watched from his seat, tapping his fingers on the desk, saying nothing at all.

On Saturday, I went to work at the eatery as usual. I told myself they would not come again, that maybe this time I would have peace while I worked. But just as I was wiping the tables, the door opened and they walked in once more—louder, ruder, and more arrogant than ever. They sat down at the biggest table right in the middle, calling out loudly like they owned the whole place.

When I stepped near to take their order, Gio suddenly reached out, snatched my small notebook right out of my hands, and tossed it to Jace like it was just a useless piece of trash.

“Let us see what she writes in here,” Gio laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe there are secrets we should know about our quiet little classmate.”

“Or maybe she writes about how much she admires us,” Jace added with a grin, flipping the notebook open. “Who knows?”

They were about to read the first page out loud when Francis suddenly reached out fast, grabbed the notebook from Jace’s hand, and dropped it roughly on the table right in front of me.

“Stop messing with other people’s things,” he said roughly, his voice low and sharp. “Just order what you want so we can go already.”

Gio and Jace looked at each other, clearly surprised. “Hey, why are you acting like you are mad at us?” Jace asked, raising an eyebrow. “You were the one who said she was nothing special.”

“It is just annoying to watch,” Francis answered quickly, avoiding my eyes completely. “You two are taking too long and making too much noise. Just order.”

They grumbled a little but gave their order. When I brought their food, Francis did not look at me, did not speak, and did not even meet my gaze. But as I turned to walk away, I heard him say softly to his friends, “Leave her alone while we are here. The owner is watching.”

When they finished eating and left, I sat down for a moment and stared at my notebook lying on the table. I did not know what to think anymore. Sometimes it seemed like he did not want me to get hurt, like he was trying to protect me in his own twisted way, but most of the time he was the one leading them, the one hurting me first. Maybe he only acted differently when he got tired of their nonsense. Maybe he just did not want to get in trouble. There could not be anything more to it than that. Or so I told myself.