The cold morning air sliced through the school courtyard as Lottie stepped onto campus, the sky a brittle sweep of gray-blue overhead. The crunch of her footsteps on the gravel, the low murmur of students drifting ahead of her, the faint whistle of the wind threading through bare branches—all of it seemed sharper today, more vivid, like the air was holding its breath. Her fingers curled reflexively around the strap of her bag, knuckles whitening against the leather, the chill in the air doing little to cool the fire humming just under her skin. Every glance, every whisper was a thread pulling tighter around Amy's unraveling reputation, and Lottie felt each one, a pulse of tension vibrating in her bones.
Near the lockers, Amy stood stiffly, a pale figure caught in the middle of a small circle of classmates. Their smiles were brittle, the kind worn like masks; their laughter pitched just a fraction too loud, ringing hollow against the metal doors as if trying to cover the cracks spiderwebbing beneath their feet. Amy's eyes darted up at Lottie as she approached—wide, glassy with unshed panic—but her lips pulled into a fragile smile, trembling at the corners, like a piece of tissue paper trying to hold back a flood.
"Amy," someone murmured, voice dipped in false sympathy, head tilting just so, "tough week, huh?"
Amy let out a small, breathy laugh, the sound so thin it was almost a gasp. "Oh, you know… just a misunderstanding. People always twist things online…" She tried to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, but her fingers fumbled, catching on the edge of her sleeve before she yanked her hand away too fast.
Lottie's gaze flicked over Amy without stopping, cool as frost, the edge of detachment razor-sharp in the cold morning light. Inside, though, something twisted, low and sharp. The Amy she remembered—wide-eyed, eager, soft around the edges—had been swallowed whole by the very storm Evelyn had unleashed. But pity, Lottie reminded herself as her heel clicked against the floor, was a liability she couldn't afford. Not now.
Leo fell into step beside her, his fingers brushing casually against the edge of her sleeve, a whisper of contact that prickled at her skin. "You're watching this, right?" he murmured, voice pitched low, threaded through with something dark and almost amused. His eyes stayed forward, but his meaning was unmistakable.
"I see it," Lottie replied softly, the words smooth and cool on her tongue, though her pulse kicked hard against her ribs. "She's slipping."
Ahead, Evelyn coiled around Amy with feline grace, an arm draped lightly over Amy's shoulders, the sharp gleam of her rings brushing against the girl's blazer sleeve. Her voice was velvet, sugared at the edges. "Sweetheart, don't let them get to you," Evelyn purred, fingers brushing a lock of Amy's hair back with a touch that was both tender and possessive. "You know how people love to tear someone down the moment they're vulnerable."
Lottie watched the scene unfold like a stage play, every movement choreographed to perfection. The slight tilt of Evelyn's head, the soft croon of her voice, the half-lidded gaze that promised safety—it was artful manipulation, a net cast wide to bind Amy tighter, to reel her back in just as the world turned cold.
Amy leaned in, her breath hitching audibly, hands clinging to the sleeves of her blazer as though they were the last threads holding her together. Lottie saw the way Amy's fingers trembled, the flicker of desperation in her darting glances, the tiny flinch when Evelyn's manicured nails grazed her wrist in a brush of faux comfort.
Across the hallway, Leo exhaled through his nose, a flicker of something like disgust passing over his face. "She's baiting her," he muttered, voice edged with steel beneath his lazy grin. "You know that, right?"
Lottie's lips curved—not quite a smile, more the barest lift at one corner, like the flicker of a blade just before it cuts. "Of course."
The day dragged on with a strange, brittle tension hanging over every room. In the classroom, Amy perched on the edge of her seat, her laughter sharp and tinny, hands tapping a restless staccato on the desk. Her pen slipped twice from her fingers, clattering to the floor where it rolled beneath a neighbor's chair, and each time she retrieved it, her face flushed pink, eyes darting like a cornered animal's. Her gaze kept flicking toward Lottie, landing quick and bright, only to snap away when their eyes met. Each glance was a thread unraveling, the tight weave of Amy's composure fraying strand by strand.
Lottie sat composed, spine straight, pen gliding smoothly across her notebook. But beneath the surface, her nerves hummed electric, aware of every shift in the room, every glance tossed like a stone into still water. She could feel Evelyn's eyes on her like twin points of ice, cool and calculating, even when Evelyn leaned toward Amy, murmuring soft reassurances just below hearing.
A message buzzed against Lottie's thigh. She slipped her phone out discreetly, thumb brushing the screen.
Leo:Watch the feed. Amy's heating up.
With a flick of her finger, Lottie opened the forum thread. Her chest tightened as she skimmed the posts.
"Amy's gone off the rails."
"Why is she clinging to Evelyn like that?"
"So much for loyalty…"
Below, Amy's own posts flickered like distress signals—cryptic laments, vague apologies, sharp-edged half-jokes trying too hard to sound breezy. One caught Lottie's eye:
"I guess it's true what they say: the higher you climb, the harder you fall."
Her thumb hovered over the reply button, a flicker of something raw scraping at the edges of her chest, an ache that pulsed like a bruise beneath her breastbone. For a heartbeat, she considered it—reaching out, just once. Then her jaw tightened, and her fingers withdrew, curling tight against the cool edge of her desk. No. Not now.
Across the aisle, Evelyn's voice, light and honeyed, floated through the air. "Don't worry, Amy. Some people are only kind when it benefits them." The words hung like smoke in the room, delicate and poisonous.
Amy's laugh bubbled up, brittle and watery, cracking faintly in the middle. "Yeah… yeah, I guess so."
Lottie felt the breath punch out of her lungs in a short, tight exhale. Her pen scratched faintly against the page, an anchor to keep her hands steady.
Lunch was worse.
The cafeteria brimmed with whispers, the air thick with the scent of hot food, perfume, and simmering tension. Lottie slid into her usual seat, cool fingers tapping a rhythmic beat on the table. Across the room, Evelyn swept in like a queen holding court, Amy trailing half a step behind, smile stretched thin across her face, eyes shadowed and restless.
"Did you see Amy's post?" someone hissed behind Lottie, voice laced with half-pity, half-scorn.
"She's losing it."
"Evelyn's just… being nice, I guess?"
Lottie kept her gaze steady, watching from beneath lowered lashes as Evelyn's fingers brushed against Amy's shoulder, as Amy tilted toward her like a sunflower chasing light. She saw the small, sharp flinch when Evelyn's nails grazed skin, the tiny way Amy's fingers twisted into the hem of her sleeve.
Another buzz against her thigh.
Leo:She's in deep now. Evelyn's setting the stage.
The pulse in Lottie's throat thrummed faster, a steady beat she felt in her fingertips, in the tight line of her jaw. Her fingers curled around her water bottle, the cool condensation seeping into her skin, grounding her against the heat sparking beneath her ribs.
When the final bell rang, the air was brittle as glass.
Lottie moved toward the courtyard, the late afternoon sun casting long, golden bars across the pavement, the shadows sharp-edged and cold. She paused at the steps, phone in hand, heart drumming a jagged rhythm in her chest. The sound of laughter drifted from behind—a burst too loud, a pitch too high.
A notification pinged at the top of her screen.
Amy has joined Evelyn's chat group.
For a moment, the world narrowed to that single line of text, the words burning into her retinas like a brand. A sharp breath dragged into her lungs, the cold biting at the back of her throat. She closed her eyes briefly, gathering herself, feeling the coil of determination knot tight in her belly.
Behind her, the door creaked open. Footsteps—light, familiar—approached.
"Rough day?" Leo's voice, low and edged with wry amusement, curled at her ear, the faintest trace of warmth threading through the cool air.
Lottie didn't turn, her lips twitching faintly. "It's only just begun."
The wind shifted, sharp as a blade, cutting across her cheeks, stirring loose strands of hair against her skin. The air humming faintly, brittle with expectation, as though even the wind dared not breathe too loud. She drew in a breath, felt the electric thrum of the moment pulse through her veins, and lifted her chin as the last rays of sunlight skimmed across the courtyard, gilding the world in gold and warning.