Chapter 252 Chapter Two Hundred And Fifty Two

Chapter 252 Chapter Two Hundred And Fifty Three

I didn't need to be told twice. I clearly wasn't welcome here anymore.

And since I already had whatever evidence I'd been able to gather—the SD card still burning a hole in my pocket like radioactive material—there was no sense in hanging around school any longer.

It would only attract more trouble to me, and lord knew I didn't need any more of that right then.

"No running in the halls!" a teacher's voice rang out from behind me.

I was forced to slow down from my full sprint to a brisk, awkward speed-walk that probably looked just as suspicious.

My heart was still beating wildly against my ribs, my palms sweating so badly I had to wipe them on my jeans.

The adrenaline from nearly getting caught by Mrs. Sinclair was still coursing through my system, making my hands shake and my breath come in short, uneven gasps.

I made my way through the emptying corridors as the period change began, students flooding out of classrooms in waves of noise and movement.

I kept my head down, the oversized sunglasses I'd borrowed from Coach Ellis still perched on my nose even though they made me look ridiculous. Better to look ridiculous than to be recognized.

Eventually, I found myself standing in front of my locker. I stopped there for a second, my hand hovering over the combination lock, trying to figure out my next move.

The logical thing would be to pack up my stuff and go home.

After all, Mrs. Sinclair had made herself crystal clear—I was expelled, effective immediately, which meant I was trespassing just by being here. But something made me hesitate.

This was my locker. My space. The place where I'd kept my textbooks and my notes and all the little pieces of my academic life for the past four years.

It was where I had those little conversations with Nicole and Jake, my only actual friends.

Cleaning it out felt so final, like I was throwing the towel in and admitting defeat.

Was this really the end for Lena Hartwell?

I started dialing in my combination, the same numbers I'd used since freshman year, but halfway through turning the lock, something caught my eye.

There was a little banner on the wall across from me. Bright and sparkly, covered in glitter that someone had clearly spent way too much time applying.

It listed out the nominations for prom king and queen, with little ballot boxes set up underneath for students to cast their votes.

My eyes scanned the names automatically, not really paying attention at first. Marcus. Jace, obviously. Some guy named Ethan. Noah too, though that name had been crossed out sloppily with black marker, probably after news of his hospitalization had spread.

Then I looked at the girls' side.

Allison Hargrave was there, of course. Her name written in elaborate cursive with little hearts drawn around it.

But above her name, in bold letters that seemed to jump off the poster, was mine.

Lena Hartwell.

I stared at it, my hand frozen on my locker.

I'd done it. I'd actually done it.

I'd fought so hard for so long to be something, anything other than the constant victim, the girl everyone pitied or ignored or openly mocked.

And somehow, impossibly, I'd done it. I'd transformed myself from the fat girl who ate lunch alone in bathroom stalls to someone who was being nominated for prom queen.

Only a few months ago, this would've been an absolute pipe dream.

A wild fantasy so ridiculous I never would have even dared to imagine it. Back when Allison and her friends were still tormenting me, when I was invisible to everyone except as a target for cruelty.

And now here I was. My name on that poster. Above Allison's.

A couple of girls walked up to the ballot area, giggling about something.

I quickly turned my face away and pretended to be very interested in opening my locker, hiding behind the metal door while they filled out their votes.

"Allison can never, ever know about this," one of them hissed in a whisper that carried across the hallway.

"Like, I swear to God, if you tell anyone I voted against her, I will actually kill you."

"Duh, obviously," her friend whispered back. "I'm voting for Lena too. I mean, Allison's pretty and everything, sure. But Lena never stuck my head in a toilet and tried to give me a swirly, so there's that. Plus, Lena's way hotter. And she's not literally a demon from hell."

"Oh my God, yuck. Don't remind me about the toilet thing."

"You think it's bad? I'm the one who had to wash my face and hair with actual bleach afterward. Do you know what that does to your skin? This is exactly why I never tell you anything—"

"You literally just told me—"

"Shut up!"

They continued bickering as they walked away, their voices fading down the hallway until I couldn't hear them anymore.

I stood there, still hiding behind my locker door, processing what I'd just overheard.

That was all the confirmation I needed. All the proof that what I'd built over these past months; my reputation, my status, my place at the top, actually meant something.

That people actually liked me. Respected me. Wanted me to win.

I couldn't fail this. I couldn't let my entire life get snatched away from me because of Allison's messed up revenge scheme.

I'd worked too hard. Come too far. Survived too much to ever let that happen.

I closed my locker without taking anything out.

All my things, as far as I was concerned, would stay exactly where they were. I would work this out somehow, one way or another. I had to.

This was just a little break, I told myself firmly. Some temporary time off to regroup and think and figure out my next move.

I'd be back. I'd clear my name, prove Allison was lying, and I'd walk back through these doors vindicated.

Maybe even in time for prom. Maybe even in time to accept that crown.

"You can do this," I muttered to myself under my breath, adjusting my backpack on my shoulder.

"You've survived worse. You've gotten through harder things than this, remember? This is just another obstacle. Just another test. And you're going to pass it, just like to always do."

A few students passing by gave me weird looks, probably because I was talking to myself like a cringey crazy person, but I didn't care.

I needed the pep talk, even if I was the one giving it to me.

I was just about to head toward the exit when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Jace's name lit up the screen.

I answered quickly, lowering my voice. "Hello?"

"Hey, princess. You're not still in school, are you?" He sounded slightly out of breath, like he'd been running.

"No, I'm just on my way out actually." I started walking toward the main entrance, keeping my head down. "Thanks for your help back there, by the way. With Mrs. Sinclair. That was... that was really close."

"Sure thing. Had to think fast when I saw her coming for you." I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Listen, make sure you go straight home, okay? Read a book or watch some TV or whatever. Just stay put and don't do anything else crazy. I'd drive you myself, but..."

I cut him off before he could finish. "You don't want to get in trouble with your mom by skipping any more school because you're already grounded. I get it."

I turned down one hallway, then headed down the next toward the front lobby. "It's fine, really. I can take care of myself."

"Well, I was actually going to say because you still hate my bike," Jace said with a laugh. "But yeah, the grounding thing too. Want me to call you an Uber?"

"It's okay, I'll walk." I pushed through one of the side doors that led out to the parking lot.

The fresh air hit my face, and I took a deep breath, feeling slightly less suffocated. "I need the time to think anyway. Clear my head. Definitely process everything that's happened today."

I walked under a ladder where some overly enthusiastic student council members were already putting up prom decorations—way too early, considering prom was still weeks away.

They had streamers and balloons and a giant disco ball that looked like it might fall on someone's head at any moment.

"Alright, if you say so," Jace said, though he sounded reluctant.

"Just... be safe, okay? Stay put when you get home. No more going through people's things. No more stealing bags or breaking into lockers. Just wait until I get home and we'll talk about everything. Okay? I'll come up with something. A real plan. Something that won't get you arrested."

I sighed, exhaustion suddenly washing over me. "Okay."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Like he was about to say something important but couldn't quite figure out how to put it.

"Jace?" I prompted. "You still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Just..." Another pause. "This probably isn't the right time to ask this, but is it too early in our relationship for me to say I love you? Like, casually? Not in a weird, intense way, just... as a thing I say sometimes?"

I felt my face go completely red. Heat flooded my cheeks and spread down my neck. I started to sputter, my brain short-circuiting. "I—what—you—"

The bell rang right then, cutting through our conversation. I could hear it echoing through Jace's end of the phone too, signaling the start of the next class period.

"Hold that thought," Jace said quickly. "The bell just went off. I've got another test to retake—the make-up for the one I missed yesterday. I'll see you soon, okay? We'll figure all this out together. I promise."

"I love—" I started to say, the words finally finding their way out of my frozen throat.

But the line had already gone dead.

I stood there in the parking lot, staring at my phone screen with Jace's name fading away as the call ended.

My heart was still racing, but for entirely different reasons now.

Had he really just said that? Had Jace Dawson—bad boy, notorious player, the guy who'd never had a serious relationship in his life—just told me he loved me?

And had I really almost said it back?

I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling my heartbeat hammering away underneath. A stupid, giddy smile spread across my face despite everything else that had gone wrong today.

Despite being expelled and chased out of school and having my entire future hanging by a thread.

Jace loved me.

And I loved him too.

The realization hit me like a wave, warm and overwhelming and terrifying all at once.

Because loving Jace Dawson meant getting tangled up in his complicated family and his alarming violent history and all the danger that seemed to follow him around.

It meant risking even more than I was already risking.

But as I stood there in that parking lot with the afternoon sun on my face and his words still echoing in my ears, I realized I didn't really care about any of that.

I'd risk everything for him. After all, I'd already done it before.

I tucked my phone back in my pocket and started the long walk home, my mind racing with plans and possibilities and the memory of three words that changed everything.

That was before I got a reminder from my s hedule planner. See Nicole at Marco's later today. Don't forget.