Shade the Baddie

Chapter 5-You're Damian Virelli

Jake's POV

I skipped fifth period.

Didn’t go to sixth either.

Hid in the locker room until the final bell rang, sitting on the bench in front of my open locker, staring at my jersey. Number 12. Lacrosse. Defense. I used to think that meant something. That it made me untouchable.

It doesn’t. Not anymore.

The door slams open.

Damian.

He’s not wearing his practice gear. He’s still in his uniform, shirt untucked, tie loose. The blue ink stain is still there. Spread wider now. Like it’s eating him.

“Where were you?” he says. No hello. No hey man. Just accusation.

I stand up too fast. My head spins. “Nowhere. I— I was sick.”

“Bullshit.” He crosses the room in three steps. Gets in my face. I can smell his cologne. It’s weaker today. Like he’s sweating it off. “Chloe said you left lunch freaked out. Said you were gonna find me.”

“I did. I mean, I tried.” I back up. Hit the lockers. Metal rattles. “You weren’t at the field.”

“Because I was handling it.”

Handling it. That’s what he called it last year. When Ethan Vale’s parents came to the school. When the cops asked questions. Damian handled it. His dad handled it. Money handled it.

“What did she say to you?” Damian asks. His voice is low. Dangerous. The one he used before he told me to put the glue on her chair.

My throat closes. “Who?”

“Don’t play dumb, Jake. It doesn’t suit you.” He shoves me. Not hard. Just enough to remind me who’s stronger. Who’s always been stronger. “Vale. What did she say to you behind the gym?”

I could lie. I should lie.

“She said I’m on the list.”

The words come out broken. Like glass.

Damian goes still. All the anger bleeds out of his face, and for one second, I see it. The same thing I saw in Chem. The same thing I felt when she walked past me in the cafeteria.

Fear.

“What list?” he says, but his voice shakes. He knows.

“She didn’t say. She just— she just said ‘You’re on the list too.’ Then she walked away.”

Damian laughs. It’s not a real laugh. It’s sharp. Empty. “There’s no list. She’s messing with you. She’s a psycho transfer with a God complex and a victim story.”

“Ethan was her brother.”

“I know who her brother was.” Damian turns away. Runs a hand through his hair. Messes it up. He never messes it up. “It was an accident. He got checked too hard. Hit his head. Happens in sports.”

“You hit him with your stick.”

“It was a game!” He spins back around. Eyes wild. “You were there! You saw it! He came at me, I defended, he fell wrong. That’s it. That’s all it was.”

I was there. I saw it. I saw Ethan Vale, freshman, little kid who still had braces, go down. I heard the crack. Saw the blood on the turf. Saw Damian stand over him, stick still raised, face blank.

I also saw Damian’s dad show up twenty minutes later with a lawyer.

“It wasn’t just a game,” I say. Quiet. “You told us to target him. You said ‘make an example.’”

Damian grabs my collar. Yanks me forward. “Shut up.”

“Coach heard you. Half the team heard you.”

“Shut. Up.”

We’re breathing hard. Both of us. Like we just ran suicides. Like we’re back on the field and the coach is screaming.

I do shut up. Because I’m scared. Because even now, even with Shade’s name in my head, I’m more scared of him.

Damian lets go. Steps back. Straightens his tie. Puts the mask back on.

“Listen to me,” he says. Calm now. Cold. Mayor’s son voice. “There is no list. There is no Shade. There’s just a girl who’s mad her brother was weak. Who wants attention. Who thinks she can scare us with notebooks and smiles.”

He picks up his bag. Slings it over his shoulder. Covers the ink stain.

“We’re gonna handle her. Like we handled her brother. Like we handle everything.”

“How?” The word slips out.

Damian smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’ll see. Tomorrow. Chemistry.”

He walks out. Doesn’t look back.

I stay there. In the empty locker room. Smelling sweat and fear and his cologne.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

Unknown number.

I open it.

One text.

_Wrong move, Jake._

_—S_

I drop the phone.

It hits the tile. Cracks.

Just like Ethan’s head did.

Damian's POV

I watched Jake’s face break.

Good.

Fear keeps people loyal. Fear keeps people quiet. Fear is the only thing that ever worked on my father’s payroll, and it’s the only thing that’s gonna work on Westridge.

I left him in the locker room. Phone cracked on the floor. Pathetic. He was always the weak one. The one who flinched when we initiated freshmen. The one who had to be told twice.

But he’s mine. So I’ll fix him later.

Right now, I have a bigger problem.

Isadora Vale.

No. Not Isadora. _Shade._

She thinks a nickname makes her scary. She thinks a smile and a chem lab can undo me. She doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t know what my name means in this town.

Virelli.

It means the police don’t ask twice. It means the principal erases tapes. It means Ethan Vale’s “accident” stays an accident.

I push into the Chem lab. It’s empty. Seventh period ended twenty minutes ago. Mrs. Patterson’s gone. Lights off.

But she’s here.

Of course she is.

She’s sitting at our lab table. Back row. My table. Hers now, apparently. Notebook open. Pen in her hand. Writing.

She doesn’t look up when I walk in. “You’re late, partner.”

I lock the door behind me. Click. Loud in the empty room.

“Get out.”

Now she looks up. Glasses down her nose. That smile. God, that smile. It’s not pretty. It’s not creepy. It’s nothing. It’s a mask and I hate that I can’t see under it.

“Make me,” she says.

I walk to the table. Plant my hands on it. Lean in. Close enough to see my own reflection in her glasses. Close enough to smell her shampoo. Something cheap. Drugstore. Nothing like Chloe’s.

“You think you’re smart,” I say. “You think you’ve got me figured out.”

“I know I do.” She caps her pen. Sets it down. Deliberate. “You’re Damian Virelli. Seventeen. Lacrosse captain. 3.2 GPA that your dad pays to keep at 3.5. You like to hit kids who can’t hit back. You like when they bleed.”

My jaw ticks. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know you told Jake to put glue on my chair.” She tilts her head. “I know you told Chloe to film it. I know you sat there in the back row and watched me clean it up, and for one second, you felt bad.”

“I didn’t.”

“Liar.”

I grab her wrist. Not hard. Just enough. Just like she did to Chloe.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. Just looks at my hand. Then at me.

“You’re gonna regret transferring here,” I say. My voice is low. The one I used on Ethan. The one that made him stop talking. “You’re gonna regret ever hearing my name.”

“Am I?” She leans forward. Into my grip. Her pulse beats against my fingers. Steady. Not scared. “Or are you gonna regret hearing mine?”

We’re inches apart. I could—

I let go. Step back. Like she burned me.

She rubs her wrist. Not because I hurt her. Because she can. Because she wants me to watch.

“What do you want?” I ask. Again. I hate that I’m asking again. “Money? My dad can—”

“I don’t want your dad’s money.” She stands. Picks up her notebook. Closes it. _Entry #1_ is written on the cover in black Sharpie. I see it before she slides it into her bag. “I want you to remember.”

“Remember what?”

She walks to the door. Unlocks it. Hand on the knob.

“Remember Ethan.” She opens the door. Doesn’t look back. “Remember what his head sounded like when it hit the turf. Remember what his mom sounded like when the doctors said he’d never walk right again.”

My stomach drops.

“Because I do,” she says. “Every night.”

She walks out.

Leaves the door open.

Leaves me standing in the empty lab. With the smell of chemicals and her cheap shampoo. With my hands shaking.

With the ink stain on my shirt spreading.

I look down.

It’s not blue anymore.

In this light, with the door open and the hallway bleeding in, it looks red.