26

26


Mirella

I didn’t sleep much that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Kaelen’s face—his calm expression, his quiet voice saying it was “complicated.” It made my stomach twist.

Complicated or not, he’d still brought her back.

That was the only part that mattered.

The next morning, I decided I was done. No more thinking about him. No more wondering why. If he tried to talk to me, I’d ignore him. Simple.

And I did.

When I saw him in the hallway, walking toward me with that tired, guilty look in his eyes, I turned around and went the other way. When he tried to speak during class, I kept my head down and pretended he wasn’t there. Even when I could feel his gaze on me—burning, heavy—I didn’t look up once.

At lunch, the stutterer leaned over and whispered, “K-Kaelen looks really upset. He hasn’t even touched his food.”

I stabbed a piece of fruit with my fork. “Good,” I said flatly. “He deserves to feel bad.”

The others went quiet. I could feel Iris’s eyes on me, but she didn’t say anything.

Across the cafeteria, the female legion sat with her friends, looking like she owned the place. Her laughter cut through the noise, loud and deliberate. I didn’t even have to look to know she was talking about me.

A minute later, she confirmed it.
“Poor Kaelen,” she said loudly, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “He’s heartbroken. But who can blame him? Not everyone can handle someone like me.”

Her friends burst into laughter.

Dante slammed his tray shut. “She’s doing it on purpose,” he muttered. “She wants a reaction.”

“She’s not getting one,” I said, forcing my voice to stay calm even though my jaw was tight.

I kept eating, pretending I didn’t hear them. Every instinct in me wanted to throw my drink in her face, but I refused to give her that satisfaction.

She wanted me to break. I wasn’t going to.

After lunch, Kaelen caught up to me by the lockers. “Mirella, please—”

“Don’t,” I said, not even looking at him. “Just leave me alone.”

He stopped walking. I didn’t turn back, but I could feel the weight of his silence as I walked away.

For a second, something twisted in my chest. Not quite guilt—just... something. A small, bitter ache that reminded me how much I’d cared before he ruined everything. But I pushed it down hard.

He made his choice. Now I’d make mine.

That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed once, then went quiet again. Probably Kaelen. I didn’t check.

I replayed everything in my head—the first time we talked, how he defended me, how I started to believe maybe someone finally saw me differently. And then how fast it all fell apart.

It hurt, but it also lit something inside me. A quiet, burning anger.

I was done being someone’s target. Done being pitied.

If Kaelen wanted to side with her, fine. But I wasn’t going to sit back and let them run the school again.

I sat up, grabbed my notebook, and flipped to a clean page. Across the top, I wrote one word: Plan.

Tomorrow, I’d start rebuilding my group—stronger than before. I’d find new people who were sick of being pushed around. People who wanted change. People who’d fight back.

And when I was done, the female legion would regret ever coming back.

\---

The next day, I started small. I watched. Listened. Paid attention to who sat alone, who got picked on, who kept their head down in fear. Those were the ones I wanted—the quiet ones, the ones who had something to prove.

At lunch, I noticed a girl sitting by herself near the window. She looked maybe a year younger than me—thin, nervous, picking at her food without eating much. Her bag was on the floor, and someone had written “LOSER” on it in marker.

My heart tightened. I’d been that girl once.

I walked over and sat across from her. “Hey,” I said gently. “You don’t mind if I sit here, right?”

She looked up, startled. “Oh—um, no. It’s fine.”

“I’m Mirella,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“S-Sophie.”

“Nice to meet you, Sophie.” I smiled, trying to put her at ease. “You look like you could use some company.”

Her eyes darted to the other tables nervously. “It’s just… they don’t really like me.”

I followed her gaze and immediately spotted two of the female legion’s girls—snickering, pointing, whispering behind their hands.

Of course.

“They’re not worth your time,” I said firmly. “They just want you to feel small.”

Sophie gave a tiny nod. “I know. But if I say anything, it just gets worse.”

I leaned forward slightly. “What if you didn’t have to deal with it alone?”

She blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I’m building something,” I said quietly. “A group. People who’ve been targeted by them before. We look out for each other. We don’t let bullies get away with things anymore.”

Her eyes widened a little. “You mean… like a team?”

“Exactly,” I said. “A team.”

She hesitated, chewing her lip. “But wouldn’t they come after us?”

“They’ll try,” I said honestly. “But the more of us there are, the harder it gets for them.”

Sophie looked down at her tray, thinking. “It sounds good,” she said softly, “but…”

Before she could finish, a voice interrupted.

“Well, look who’s recruiting,” one of the female legion’s friends sneered, strutting up to our table. Her name was Lila, and she was one of the worst of them. “You should stay away from her, Sophie. She’s nothing but trouble.”

Sophie froze. “I—I was just—”

Lila leaned in close, her tone low but sharp. “If you sit with her again, you’ll be next. Got it?”

I stood up slowly. “You don’t scare everyone, Lila.”

She smirked. “Maybe not. But I don’t need to scare everyone. Just the ones who matter.”

Her eyes flicked to Sophie, who looked ready to cry.

“Come on,” Lila said, turning away. “Let’s go, Soph.”

Sophie looked at me helplessly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, grabbing her bag. “I can’t—”

“It’s okay,” I said quickly. “Don’t apologize.”

She gave me a small, guilty look before following Lila out of the cafeteria.

I sat back down, staring at the table, frustration bubbling under my skin. Every time I tried to make progress, they tore it down.

They wanted me isolated. Weak.

But I wasn’t that girl anymore.

Not this time.

I pulled out my phone and opened our group chat—the small one I’d made last semester with Iris, Dante, and Yuki. I typed:

We’re restarting the plan. Tomorrow after school. Tell no one.

Within seconds, Iris replied: Are you sure?

I stared at the blinking cursor for a moment, then typed back: I’ve never been more sure of anything.