Clara didn't see the locker until she was three feet away.
Someone had used a thick, black industrial marker to write "TRAITOR" in jagged letters across the vents. Below it, they'd taped a printed copy of one of Kai's photos—the one of Maya's father looking exhausted by the window. Scrawled across the image in red ink was a single question: Is this "Perspective" or just a paycheck?
Clara felt a dull, heavy thud in her chest. This wasn't the anonymous internet noise from the night before. This was inside the school. This was her peers.
"Clara, don't look at it," a voice said behind her.
It was Marcus, the Student Council Vice President. He looked at her with a mix of pity and frustration. "The whole draft is out, Clara. Someone leaked the Phase 2 folder to the school's 'Confessions' page. Everyone has seen the hospital photos. They've read the interviews."
"It was locked in a private drive," Clara said, her voice tight. "Only I had the password. And Kai."
"And the Board," Marcus reminded her. "Or someone who knows how to get into the school server. People are pissed, Clara. They think you're exploiting a tragedy to get an A. They're saying you're using that girl for a grade."
Clara didn't answer. She reached out and tried to peel the photo off her locker, but the tape was industrial-strength, tearing the paper and leaving ugly white streaks behind.
"Where's Kai?" she asked.
"He's in the darkroom. He hasn't come out since first period. Some guys were hassling him in the quad earlier—Miller's crew. It got ugly."
Clara turned and ran. She didn't care about the bell or her AP Statistics class. she hit the heavy basement doors and skidded into the photography wing. The smell of chemicals was thick here—sharp, cold, and biting.
She found Kai sitting on a stool in the corner of the red-lit room. He wasn't developing anything. He was just sitting there, staring at his hands.
"Kai," she breathed.
"They think I'm a monster, Clara," he said. He didn't look up. His voice was flat, the sound of someone who had finally run out of energy to fight. "And they think you're my accomplice. I saw your locker on the way down. I should have stayed a ghost. I should have never let you talk me into this."
"It's Miller," Clara said, walking over to him. "He's trying to provoke you. He wants us to quit so he wins."
"He is winning!" Kai stood up, the stool screeching against the concrete floor. "My phone hasn't stopped buzzing. People are calling Maya's parents. They're calling the rehab center. We tried to do something 'honest,' and all we did was poke a beehive. Now Maya's family has to deal with the fallout because I couldn't keep my mouth shut."
He grabbed his camera bag off the table. "I'm done. I'll tell Harrison I'm dropping the project. You can still save your grade if you pivot back to the old data. Tell them I went rogue. Tell them you didn't know I was going to include the accident."
Clara stepped in front of the door. "No."
"Clara, move."
"I am not letting you run away, Kai. You think giving up protects Maya? It doesn't. It just lets the town keep her in the dark. It proves Miller right. It says that what happened to her is something to be ashamed of."
"I don't care about being right anymore!" Kai shouted, his voice echoing off the narrow walls. "I care about you! You worked for seventeen years to be the 'Perfect President,' and in three weeks, I've turned you into a target. Look at your hands, Clara. You're shaking."
Clara looked down. She was shaking. But it wasn't fear.
"I'm shaking because I'm angry," she said, stepping closer until she was right in his space. "For the first time in my life, I'm doing something that actually matters. Something that isn't for a resume or a gold star. If you walk out that door, you're not just leaving the project. You're leaving me."
The silence that followed was heavy. Kai looked at the door, then back at Clara. The anger in his face slowly drained away, leaving behind a raw, exhausted look that made Clara want to pull him close and never let go.
"They're going to try to ruin you," he whispered.
"Let them try," Clara replied, her voice steadying. "I've got the best photographer in the state to document the fallout. We aren't hiding in here. We're going to finish the edit. And then we're going to walk into that auditorium and make them look at the truth."
Kai looked at her for a long time. Then, he reached out and touched the "TRAITOR" ink that had smudged onto her sleeve from her locker. He wiped it away with his thumb, his touch lingering.
"50/50?" he asked.
"100/100," she corrected.
They spent the next six hours locked in that room. They cut the fluff. They removed the academic jargon. They made the presentation raw, fast, and uncompromising. There were moments where they didn't speak at all, just passing the mouse back and forth, knowing exactly what the other was thinking.
When they finally emerged into the parking lot that evening, the school was empty and the air was cold.
"Clara?" Kai said as they reached her car.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for not letting me be a coward."
Clara unlocked the doors. "Thanks for giving me something worth being brave for."
As she drove home, she saw Miller's truck parked at the local diner. He was laughing with his friends, probably checking the 'Confessions' page to see how much damage he'd done. Clara didn't slow down. She didn't look away. She just kept her eyes on the road, knowing that in forty-eight hours, the laughter was going to stop.