I arrive to first hour in a flustered state. I don't want anyone to talk to me or look at me. Like a ghost, I glide silently into my seat near the back of the classroom. As I wait for class to begin, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I take it out. It's a text from Cruz.

The Spawn: Did you get to class okay?

Biting my lip, I decide not to share anything about my run-in with Chrissa yet. My Spidey senses tell me that Cruz might overreact and do something stupid if I drop this bomb on him out of the blue. We can hash things out later this afternoon. At home. Away from Chrissa and Brody.

I reply: yep

He fires back: Want to go off campus for lunch? I'll make sure no one sees us.

I'm too shaken up at the moment to pretend like I'm okay. The last thing I want is to make Cruz worry about me. 

I ignore his invite and hope he gets the message that I'm not interested in hanging out.

The rest of my morning passes by in a blur. I think Mr. Wiley showed us a video about the Vietnam War. I think I took a quiz in trig. I think Ms. Donovan gave me a hard time for not paying attention in class. Honestly, I don't remember much because my mind was a million miles away.

When lunchtime finally rolls around, I don't really feel like sitting with anyone. I don't have a set group of friends, anyway. I tend to drift from crowd to crowd depending on my mood. Some days, I eat with the skaters and stoners. Other days, I sit with the anime weebs and K-pop stans. Occasionally, I chill with the gamers. 

Today, though, I choose to find an empty table in the cafeteria and sit down by myself.

I stare blankly at the kids around me. They're laughing, chatting, playing on their phones, and stuffing their faces with burgers and fries. It feels like I'm existing in an alternate universe. It's kind of trippy. Life seems so normal for everyone else. Yet, I'm falling apart inside. They don't know anything about what has happened to me, and, if everything goes according to plan, they'll never find out about what Chrissa and Brody did to me.

My situation reminds me of that dumb saying about falling trees in the forest: If no one is there to hear it fall, then does it make a sound?

God.

I'm acting like such an emo fuck right now.

With a sigh, I force myself to take a bite of my pizza. It's hard to chew and swallow, though. I'm not very hungry.

A few minutes later, someone approaches me. "Hey."

I glance up. It's Alison. Her blonde hair is tied up in a messy bun. She's not wearing any makeup for once, and there's some pinkish puffiness around her big brown eyes.

Has she been crying?

I eye her warily. "Hey..."

She asks in a soft voice, "Can I sit down?"

I give a stiff nod. "Sure."

"So," Alison mumbles, "did Chrissa get to you, too?"

My eyes round out. "How did you know?"

Alison grimaces. "Chrissa and I are in second hour together. AP English with Perkins, you know? Chrissa told me that she talked to you before school started this morning. She also told me to keep my mouth shut about the party. Or else—"

Her voice trails off with a shaky tremor.

Anxiously, I prod, "Or else what?"

"Or else she's gonna get my dad fired."

My eyebrows shoot up. "What? She can do that?"

"My dad works for her dad at the same company," Alison explains. "I don't know if she'll actually follow through with her threat, but I don't want to get my dad in trouble."

"Right."

She glances my way with a worried expression. "Still, I've been meaning to check in with you. Make sure that you're okay. I feel so bad about what happened last Friday. I was high outta my mind."

With a weak smile, I make a lame attempt to lighten the mood, "That's because I only sell you the good shit."

Alison laughs uneasily and looks away. Her pretty face scrunches up with distress. "My memory of Friday night is a bit hazy, but I-I know, now, that I shouldn't have given you that fucking punch. I'm pretty sure Chrissa spiked it with something. I'm so sorry, Athena. I've been stewing over this shit all weekend, but I was too ashamed to reach out to you until now."

"Yeah, that punch was definitely spiked with something," I mumble under my breath, "but, like you said, you were high as fuck. I'm not mad at you, okay? I know you're the one who went to find Cruz. I'd probably be in an even worse situation if you guys didn't show up when you did."

Alison's face grows pale. "Oh, God, I don't even wanna think about what might've happened if we came too late."

At this point, I don't know what else to say.

Alison clears her throat awkwardly. "Anyway, I wanted to let you know that—if you decide to speak out against Chrissa or Brody or whatever—I got your back, okay?"

Her offer takes me by surprise. A sense of wonder blooms in me. Before, I genuinely wasn't sure whether or not I could count on Alison to be in my corner. Now, I feel like I didn't misjudge her. It seems like she's one of the good ones, after all, and I'm grateful for her support.

But I'm hesitant to drag Alison into this mess along with Cruz.

I demand, "What about your dad?"

She shrugs. "Worst case scenario, he can find another job. Besides, my mom makes more money than him, anyway. I think we'll be fine."

I remark, "Damn. What a boss."

Alison smirks. "Right?"

A lull passes between us as the sheer weight of our conversation settles in. Even though we've managed to keep the mood fairly lighthearted, this is actually some pretty serious shit. There's a lot at stake.

"Um, so," I say with a cough, "I really appreciate your offer. It really takes balls to stick your neck out for someone. But , ah, you should know that I'm not planning to press charges."

Alison looks flabbergasted. "Why the hell not?"

I don't feel like telling her about Persie. It's too damn complicated to explain. So, I settle on this excuse, "I hate drama. I just want this whole thing to blow over."

She sputters in disbelief, "But, but, but—you can't just let them get away with this shit! You gotta stand up for yourself, girl!"

I tell her the same thing I told Cruz, "I'll let you know if I change my mind, okay?"

Alison's face falls. "This is really what you wanna do?"

"Kinda, yeah."

"Damn, I guess I have to respect your decision, but, like, what Chrissa and Brody did to you was so incredibly wrong. You shouldn't let them get away with it."

"That's life. It's fucked up most of the time."

"Are you sure that you don't wanna take a few more days to think things over?"

"My mind's made up."

"In that case," Alison releases a grim sigh, "I hope karma comes back to bite them in the ass."

With a heavy heart, I can't help but agree with her, "Me, t—"

I don't get to finish my sentence.

From the corner of my eye, I see Brody marching towards our table like a maniac on a mission. His face is darkened by a black eye and a bruised cheek. Courtesy of Cruz's fists, I assume, from Friday night. He looks mad as hell.

Looks like I'm about to have my second showdown of the day.

Awesome.