Chapter 84 Chapter 84
Thursday didn’t announce itself with drama. It crept in quietly, almost politely, and Cass knew better than to trust it.
By now she had learned that calm was never empty. It was just waiting.
She arrived at school early, the sky still pale and undecided, and sat in her car longer than usual. She rested her forehead against the steering wheel and breathed. Not because she was panicking. Because she was grounding herself. That alone felt like progress.
Inside, the halls were already alive. Lockers slammed. Laughter bounced off walls. Someone argued loudly about homework. Someone else cried near the bathrooms. Life kept happening whether Cass was ready or not.
Lena spotted her immediately.
“There you are,” she said, looping her arm through Cass’s. “I swear this place feels different every single day.”
Cass smiled faintly. “We’re the ones changing.”
Lena studied her face. “You’re not wrong. You look steadier.”
“I don’t know if I am,” Cass said honestly. “But I’m trying.”
They stopped by their lockers. Cass twisted the dial slowly, deliberately, like she was savoring the normalcy of it. No whispers. No eyes burning holes into her back. Just the ordinary rhythm of school.
It felt borrowed.
Jace passed them a moment later, heading toward class. He didn’t stop. He didn’t need to. His gaze met Cass’s for just a second, calm and grounding, and that was enough.
Lena leaned closer. “You two are weird,” she whispered. “But in a good way.”
Cass huffed. “We’re careful.”
“That’s even weirder for teenagers.”
First period passed without incident. So did second. Cass almost relaxed.
Almost.
By midmorning, the tension returned in small ways. Marvin’s presence lingered even when he wasn’t visible. Like a bruise you forgot about until you moved the wrong way.
Cass felt it when a chair scraped too loudly. When laughter spiked suddenly behind her. When a teacher paused a little too long before calling her name.
She refused to let it show.
At lunch, the cafeteria buzzed louder than usual. Not with cruelty. With anticipation. Flyers had gone up around the school announcing the weekend tournament schedule. Again. Bigger this time. More teams. More eyes.
Cass sat with Lena and two other girls from their history class, listening to a heated argument about prom themes. She liked this version of lunch. Chaotic. Normal. Not centered around survival.
Then Jacinta appeared.
She hovered near their table for a moment, uncertainty written all over her posture. The confident polish was gone. Her eyes looked red. Tired.
Cass noticed before Lena did.
“Do you want to sit?” Cass asked quietly.
Lena shot her a look but said nothing.
Jacinta nodded and sat down slowly. She didn’t speak at first. Just stared at her tray.
“I don’t know why I’m here,” she said finally.
Cass took a breath. “Then don’t explain. Just… be.”
Jacinta swallowed hard. “He’s not the same.”
No one asked who.
“He’s angry all the time,” Jacinta continued. “At me. At Jace. At everyone. I thought if I stayed, if I tried harder—”
“You can’t fix someone who enjoys breaking things,” Lena cut in, voice sharp but not unkind.
Jacinta flinched. “I know.”
Cass studied her. For the first time, she didn’t see an enemy. She saw a girl who had built her identity around someone else’s approval and was now watching it crumble.
“Be careful,” Cass said gently. “Marvin doesn’t like losing control.”
Jacinta nodded slowly. “That’s why I’m scared.”
She stood a moment later, murmured a thank you, and left.
Lena exhaled. “That was… unexpected.”
“People aren’t just one thing,” Cass replied.
Lena looked at her with new respect. “You’re growing up faster than the rest of us.”
Cass didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure that was something to be proud of.
After school, the air felt heavier. Storm clouds gathered but didn’t break. Cass waited near the bleachers, watching Jace finish practice drills. He moved with focus, not aggression. Every movement precise. Controlled.
Marvin skated too. Sloppier. Louder. His frustration bled into every motion.
Cass noticed the way Coach’s eyes followed Jace instead.
When practice ended, Jace approached her, helmet tucked under his arm.
“You don’t have to wait,” he said.
“I wanted to,” Cass replied.
They walked slowly toward the parking lot.
“Things feel tense again,” Cass said.
Jace nodded. “They are.”
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He considered the question. “I think so. I just don’t know how much longer I can pretend everything’s fine at home.”
Her chest tightened. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
He glanced at her, something vulnerable flickering across his face. “That’s what scares me.”
They reached her car. Neither moved to leave.
“I’m not asking you for anything,” Cass said softly. “Not promises. Not declarations. Just… honesty.”
He nodded. “Then here it is. I like you. More than I expected. More than I planned.”
Her breath caught. “I like you too.”
He smiled then. Small. Real.
Friday arrived with a storm.
Rain hammered the school roof, thunder rattling windows. The atmosphere inside felt charged, restless.
Cass moved through the day with a strange clarity. She felt like she was standing in the center of something forming. Not chaos. A choice.
In the hallway between classes, Marvin blocked her path.
Jace was nowhere in sight.
“You look confident,” Marvin said, eyes sharp. “Careful. That never lasts.”
Cass met his gaze. Didn’t blink. “I’m done reacting to you.”
He laughed. “You think you won?”
“I think you’re bored,” she replied. “And bored people hurt others to feel alive.”
His smile vanished.
“Stay out of my way,” he snapped.
Cass stepped around him calmly. “You don’t own the hallway.”
People had stopped to watch. Marvin felt it. The loss of control.
He said nothing else.
That afternoon, the announcement came. Jace would be starting the weekend tournament as lead. Not Marvin.
The shock rippled through the school.
Cass saw Marvin punch a locker hard enough to dent it.
She found Jace later, sitting alone on the bleachers, head bowed.
“You okay?” she asked.
“I will be,” he said. “After I stop shaking.”
She sat beside him. “I believe in you.”
He looked at her, eyes intense. “That means more than you know.”
That night, Cass wrote in her diary again.
I used to think strength was loud.
Now I know it’s quiet.
It’s staying.
It’s choosing softness when the world demands armor.
And I think I’m ready for whatever comes next.
Outside, thunder rolled.
The storm had finally arrived.
And Cass didn’t run.