Chapter 16: Hairpin

Monday comes quicker than I expected. I walk toward the front doors of Eastview High with a spring in my step that feels entirely illegal. My lips still feel a little swollen from last night, and the scent of Jaxson’s cedar cologne seems to be clinging to the fibers of my favorite oversized sweater.

That feeling lasts exactly three seconds.

The heavy oak doors fly open before I can reach for the handle. A blur of pink and blonde streaks past me, followed by a sound I’ve never heard in the hallowed halls of this school: a raw, jagged sob.

I freeze. It’s Chloe.

She isn't just crying; she’s falling apart. Her mascara is streaked down her porcelain cheeks, and her chest is heaving as she shoves past anyone in her way. When our shoulders brush, she doesn't even stop to sneer or throw an insult. She just gasps, a broken, hitching sound, and disappears toward the parking lot. Her clique—three girls who usually move with the synchronized grace of a predatory pack—are running after her, their heels clicking frantically on the pavement.

"Chloe? Chloe, wait!" one of them yells.

I stand there, stunned. Nobody has ever seen Chloe cry. She’s the girl who bleeds ice water and breathes ego. To see her shattered like that feels like watching a statue crack in real-time.

A hand grabs my elbow and yanks me inside. I’m nearly pulled off my feet as I’m dragged into the alcove behind the trophy cases.

"Maya, thank God you're here," Sarah hisses. Her eyes are wide, darting back and forth like she’s expecting a SWAT team to drop from the ceiling.

"What is happening?" I ask, my heart beginning to hammer a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "Why was Chloe crying? Did someone die?"

"Socially? Yes," Sarah says, pulling out her phone and shoving it six inches from my face. "The Gossip Page dropped a nuclear bomb at 7:00 AM. Look."

My stomach drops into my shoes. It’s the photo from the dinner.

The lighting is grainy, filtered through the dark of the park, but the silhouette is unmistakable. It’s Jaxson. He’s leaning into a girl, his hand cradling her jaw with a tenderness that screams everything. Because of the angle and the way his massive frame is positioned, the girl’s face is completely obscured. She’s just a shadow in a dark hoodie.

"He was photographed kissing a girl," Sarah whispers, her voice a mix of awe and terror. "A secret girl. Someone who isn't Chloe. They had a screaming match in the hallway ten minutes ago. Jaxson didn't deny it. He just stood there like a stone wall until she ran out."

My heart is a wild thing now, clawing at my throat. I feel dizzy. "Do they know?" I ask, my voice sounding like it’s coming from underwater. "Does anyone know who... who the girl is?"

Sarah shakes her head, looking back at the screen. "No. The photographer was too far away. The caption just says 'The King has a Secret Queen.' People are losing their minds, Maya. They’re checking the height of every girl in school. They’re looking at jackets, shoes, everything."

I let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. My knees feel like jelly. I lean back against the cool glass of the trophy case, closing my eyes for a second. She doesn't know. Nobody knows.

"Wait," Sarah says.

I open my eyes. Sarah isn't looking at the phone anymore. She’s looking at me. Her head is tilted, her eyes narrowed with a terrifying, laser-like focus.

"What?" I ask, trying to keep my face neutral. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Oh my god," she whispers. Her jaw drops. Her eyes travel from my face to the top of my head. "Oh. My. God."

"Sarah, stop. You're being weird."

"Maya," she breathes, a slow, wicked grin spreading across her face. "You're that girl. You’re the Secret Queen."

"I am not!" I hiss, my face heating up so fast I’m surprised I don't start smoking. "That’s insane. Why would you even think that? I hate Jaxson Thorne. He’s the enemy, remember? The garage? My brother?"

"Nice try, Vance," Sarah says, stepping closer until our noses are almost touching. She points a finger at the very top of my head. "I knew that hairpin was familiar. The one with the little silver butterfly? I gave that to you for your birthday. And in that picture—the high-res version on the blog—you can see a tiny flash of silver right where the girl’s hood slips."

My hand flies to my hair. I feel the cold metal of the pin. I rip it out so fast a few strands of hair come with it, and I shove it deep into the pocket of my jeans.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I mumble, but it’s too late. The flush on my cheeks is a confession in itself.

"I knew it!" Sarah squeals, though she keeps it low enough not to alert the passing students. She starts dancing on her heels, a look of pure triumph in her eyes. "I knew there was something going on when he stood up for you at the diner! The way you two were looking at each other... and now this? Maya, you’re dating the King! You’re the scandal of the century!"

"I am not dating him," I snap, though my voice is weak. "It’s... it’s complicated. It’s part of the deal. I’m helping him with his wrist, and things just... they got out of hand last night."

"Out of hand?" Sarah teases, nudging me with her shoulder. "Honey, that wasn't 'out of hand.' That was 'out of this world.' You were practically melting into him. And you were giggling just now! You were thinking about how close you guys were to—"

"Stop! Do not finish that sentence!" I cover my face with my hands.

"Admit it," she whispers, leaning in. "You like him. You actually, genuinely like the boy who ruined your life."

I look through the gaps in my fingers at the hallway. Students are huddled in groups, whispering, staring at their phones, dissecting the image of my soul being exposed to the world. And somewhere in this building, Miller is watching the chaos he created, waiting for the moment he can put a name to the shadow.

"I can't like him, Sarah," I say, and for the first time, the giggle is gone. "If Leo finds out... if Miller proves it’s me... I don't just Jaxson. I lose my family."

Sarah’s expression softens. She reaches out and squeezes my hand. "Then we make sure they never prove it. Hide that pin, Maya. And for heaven’s sake, try to look like you still hate him. Because right now? You look like a girl who’s found her happily ever after in the middle of a nightmare."

I nod, taking a deep breath and smoothing out my sweater. I have to be Maya Vance again. The invisible girl. The girl who hates Jaxson Thorne.

The moment I step out into the hallway, I see Jaxson walking toward his locker. Our eyes meet for a split second—our cheeks heating up, before we both look away.