Chapter 53 Chapter 53
The hallway seemed to tilt as I watched Zayelle drag Jacinta toward the office. For a split second, I felt a wave of relief—the truth was coming out. Jace would stay. The "shaken soda can" would finally be emptied.
But Zayelle stopped at the corner of the hallway. She turned her head, looking back at me over her shoulder. The smirk she gave me wasn't one of victory over Jacinta; it was the look of a predator who had just spotted a second, easier target.
"You really thought I was doing this for us, Cass?" Zayelle’s voice was like a blade. "I told you. You’re a thorn. And I’m tired of bleeding."
She reached into her designer tote bag and pulled out a worn, familiar book with bent corners.
My heart stopped. My lungs seized.
"My diary," I whispered, my voice failing me. "How did you—"
"You left your window unlocked, Cass. We live in the same house, remember? It was almost too easy." Zayelle flipped it open to the page I had written just last night. The ink was barely dry on the words: I don’t want him. But every time he looks at me like I matter, something inside me cracks.
"Wait, Zayelle, don't," I pleaded, taking a step forward. My hands were shaking so hard I had to ball them into fists. "That's private. That’s... that’s not for anyone else."
"It's for the school board," Zayelle said, her eyes gleaming with a cruel light. "See, Jacinta’s little 'IP address' trick is great. But the board needs a reason to believe the 'Bennett drama' is toxic. And what’s more toxic than a girl admitting she’s using a 'Golden Boy' to fix her own broken heart while her mother dates his best friend's father?"
She didn't just go to the principal. She stopped right in front of the massive digital bulletin board in the main foyer—the one that streamed school news and social media highlights.
"Lena, stop her!" I screamed, but Zayelle was faster.
She didn't just hand it to a teacher. She took a high-resolution photo of the most sensitive page—the page where I talked about Jace, the page where I mentioned Marvin’s "secret" about the old school, and the page where I admitted I was terrified of my own feelings.
Within seconds, the "shining" foyer of the school became a gallery of my soul. The image flickered onto the screen.
I don’t want him. I don’t want him. But every time he looks at me like I matter...
The hallway went silent. Then, the phones started chirping. A hundred notifications at once. The "shaken soda can" didn't just spill; it exploded, and the shrapnel was hitting me directly in the chest.
"Zayelle, stop," I sobbed, the tears finally breaking through. "Please."
Zayelle leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. "Now, when Jace stays, he’ll know exactly who you are. A girl who writes about him like he’s a project. A girl who’s just as 'calculating' as he is."
I looked around. Students were whispering, pointing, laughing. Some looked at me with pity, which was worse. I felt naked. Exposed. Every secret thought I’d used to keep myself sane was now public property.
The office door opened. Jace stepped out, his father right behind him. He looked at the screen. He looked at the words I’d written in the dark, thinking no one would ever see them.
He looked at the line: I don't want him.
Jace’s face didn't shatter. It did something worse. It went completely blank. The light I had seen in his eyes at the reservoir—the warmth that made me feel like I mattered—went out.
"Cass?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I just watched as Zayelle stepped up to him, tucking the diary into her bag like it was a trophy.
"She was never on your side, Jace," Zayelle said softly, placing a hand on his arm. "I’m the only one who kept your secrets. She just wrote them down to feel something."
Marvin walked up behind them, looking at the screen with a grimace. Even he looked uncomfortable. "That’s low, Z. Even for you."
But the damage was done. I felt something inside me finally snap. Not a "crack" this time, but a total break. I turned and ran. I ran past Lena, past the staring crowds, past Jace’s silent shadow.
I reached my car, fumbling with the keys, the world blurred by tears. As I pulled out of the lot, I saw Zayelle standing in the rearview mirror, her gold dress shining in the sun, finally the hero of a story she had set on fire.
I drove until I couldn't see the school anymore. I didn't go home. I couldn't. Not with Zayelle there. Not with my mom’s "glow" and Nolan’s "smiles."
I pulled over by the old reservoir, the same place Jace and I had stood last night. I looked at my hands. They were empty. No diary. No Jace. No peace.
My phone buzzed. One new text.
Jace: Did you mean it? The part where you said you didn't want me?
I stared at the screen until the light dimmed. I didn't reply. How could I tell him that the words were just a lie I told myself to stay safe, when the truth had just destroyed us both?