Kelly sat quietly in her seat, now in eighth grade, staring at nothing.
Is what I'm doing even right anymore?Can I still call them my friends?
Her fists tightened.
I don't want to hurt anyone. They've never done anything wrong to me.
"Kelly."
She didn't need to look up. She already knew.
Two girls stopped in front of her. One crossed her arms, chin lifted, eyes full of contempt. Kelly remained seated, silent.
She had once called them friends—despite knowing, deep down, that they were poison. They had forced her to bully others, classmates she barely knew. And she had obeyed, terrified of being alone again.
"Are you chickening out?" Vanissa sneered. "You know you can do it."
"I… I didn't do anything wrong to them," Kelly said, shaking her head. "I can't hurt people."
Vanissa laughed. "Don't act innocent. You've already humiliated plenty of people. You're a bully. And we're the only ones who still understand you."
Because you force me to do things I don't want to do, Kelly screamed silently.
"We don't like the girl you were talking to earlier either," Claire added coldly.
"That's none of my business," Kelly said, lifting her gaze for the first time. "I didn't do anything to her."
Claire's eyes darkened.
The slap came without warning.
SMACK.
Pain exploded across Kelly's cheek.
"I told you never to talk back to me," Claire hissed. "You bitch."
Claire grabbed her hair, yanking her forward. "You act like you matter. I don't care if you're Kenjie's sister or Jonathan's childhood friend. Be grateful anyone accepted a freak like you."
She shoved Kelly hard.
Kelly hit the ground.
"Let's go," Claire said to Vanissa, throwing her one last look of disgust before walking away.
Kelly stayed there for a long moment, hands clenched. Pain shot through her palm—blood seeping from a small cut. Her cheek burned, and tears blurred her vision.
If only I knew how to talk to people…If only I wasn't so awkward…I knew this was wrong—so why did I let them use me?
A broken laugh escaped her before the tears finally fell.
She forced herself up, fixed her uniform, and began walking.
She couldn't call her brother. He wouldn't come.
She didn't even know where she was.
Fear crept in—but asking strangers for help felt impossible.
Then she saw a familiar face.
A girl.
She recognized her immediately—the one Kenneth's band had taken in. The same girl Claire once conspired against.
Crisha.
"Ah—why are you still here?" Crisha asked gently. "It's already late."
Late?
"What time is it?" Kelly asked, her voice barely audible.
"Almost eleven."
Kelly gasped.
Eleven.
Vanissa and Claire had dragged her out earlier. Everything spiraled when she refused to hurt someone again. She was the only one still in uniform.
"You're still out this late?" Kelly asked weakly.
"I had a gig nearby," Crisha explained. "I just came from the club."
Kelly nodded absently. She needed to go home—her mother would panic.
But she didn't know where she was.
"Are you lost?" Crisha asked softly. "I've never seen you around here."
"I… I—"
She froze.
Dave was walking toward them.
Panic surged through her.
She turned to leave.
"Santibañez?"
Dave's voice stopped her cold.
Before she could run, someone grabbed her injured hand.
Pain shot through her.
Kevin…?
"What are you doing here?" Dave asked sharply. "This is far from your home. Why are you still in uniform?"
Kevin's eyes narrowed at her palm. "Is this a new wound?"
Kelly yanked her hand away.
"Crisha, thanks for inviting us," Dave said kindly. "You always do great."
"Thank you," Crisha replied, then glanced at Kelly. "Are you okay? You don't look like you've eaten."
"I'm going home," Kelly muttered.
Kevin grabbed her arm. "Let go!"
"Look at you," he said firmly. "Were you with Claire again? Where are they?"
"They left! I'm going home too!" she snapped. "I just bought something!"
"You're bad at lying," Kevin sighed.
"I'm telling the truth," she insisted, though her voice shook.
Dave crossed his arms. "Then why is Jonathan calling us? Your brother's looking for you."
Kelly's stomach dropped.
"Crisha, you can go," Dave said gently. "Kenneth—walk her home."
Kenneth guided Crisha away.
Kelly's fear spiked.
"I'm calling your brother," Dave said.
"I'll message Jonathan," Kevin added.
She clenched her fists, hunger twisting her stomach. She had no money.
"Let's go inside," Dave suggested.
They sat her down inside the club.
"Kev, record this," Dave said. "Why are you still in uniform at this hour?"
Kelly stayed silent.
"Are you hungry?" Kevin asked.
She shook her head.
"Your uniform's dirty. Your hair's a mess," Dave pressed. "Are you really not going to tell us what happened?"
She shook her head harder.
"I don't care about your past," Dave snapped. "What matters is your brother came to us because you were missing. Do you know how dangerous this is? What if someone hurt you?"
"Dave," Kevin muttered, "they're on their way."
"Kelly!"
Her brother's voice broke through the noise.
Kenjie rushed toward her, Jonathan right behind him.
"Brother…" she whispered.
Kenjie cupped her cheek, eyes soft with relief. "Thank God you're safe."
Jonathan smacked her lightly on the head. "You idiot! Where's your phone? Do you have any idea how worried we were?"
That was it.
"Brother…" Kelly sobbed, collapsing.
Kenjie pulled her into his arms.
She didn't care who saw her now.
In that moment, she wasn't a bully.
She was just a little sister—crying because she couldn't hold it together anymore.