Chapter 3 The Invitation
Mia's POV
I barely had time to slip my notebook into my bag when the classroom door opened again and my homeroom teacher, Mrs. Rodriguez, stepped inside.
"Mia," she said gently, "can I see you for a moment?"
The hallway was already clearing, footsteps and chatter fading down the corridors. I followed her in silence to the teacher's lounge, my heart thudding like I'd done something wrong.
Mrs. Rodriguez didn't speak right away. She just looked at me for a long time, really looked. And I hated how that gaze made me feel seen, exposed, and fragile.
Finally, she sighed, her voice low and filled with something deeper than sympathy, something like quiet disappointment laced with care.
"I'm sorry for everything that's happened, Mia. I know how hard it's been... losing your father, your home, your place in all this," she said gently, her voice frayed with concern. "But sweetheart, you can't keep going like this. You're slipping. You're barely hanging on."
I swallowed hard as I gripped the strap of my worn backpack tighter, trying not to look too small beneath the weight of her words.
"You were once top of the class," she continued, her voice thick with something more than just sympathy.
"I used to hear your name in the staff lounge, you know? 'That Villaruiz girl? Bright as the sun." She added.
I blinked down at the linoleum floor, already fighting back tears.
"I remember when you used to bring your dad coffee during parent-teacher meetings," she said, her voice quieter now.
“He'd always say, 'That girl is my whole world.' And I believed him. Every word. I knew your father, Mia. We lived just a few houses apart before you moved. I used to see you on the porch after school, humming while you helped your siblings with their bags. I saw your mom in better days too... back when she still smiled like she had everything she needed."
Her voice faltered slightly, then steadied.
"And that's why..." She reached into her drawer and pulled out a thin yellow form, the paper slightly creased at the corners from being held too long. "I paid your outstanding balance."
My head snapped up. "W... what?"
She didn't flinch. Her gaze was calm but unwavering. "You couldn't take your finals without it. And I wasn't about to let you fail over something like money. I didn't want to ask you in front of anyone. I know how proud you are. I know your father raised you that way."
I stood frozen, my breath caught somewhere between a sob and a gasp. My cheeks burned, equal parts shame and disbelief.
"Ma'am... Mrs. Rodriguez... you didn't have to—"
"I wanted to," she said firmly, her tone suddenly fierce. "You can pay me back in small amounts, whenever you can. I don't care how long it takes. But promise me you'll finish this year. Promise me you won't give up."
I tried to speak, but my voice trembled too much to form anything.
"I just..." She hesitated, then shook her head. "I still can't believe Helen did this to you. Left you behind like that. Got married. Started over like none of this ever happened. And you, still a minor. Still a child in so many ways, trying to carry an adult's world on your back."
My eyes dropped to the worn threads on my sleeve. My throat tightened, and my hands began to shake.
"Don't worry, Ma'am," I finally whispered. "I'm okay."
She leaned forward then and gently cupped my cheek, an instinctive, motherly gesture that made something deep inside me splinter.
"You're not okay," she said softly. "But you will be."
Mrs. Rodriguez wasn't just my teacher. She was Daniel's mother.
Daniel, who used to wait for me by the front gate after school and save me a seat in class. Who once said I was his favorite person to talk to because I always listened like I cared. And now, he couldn't even look me in the eye. Not even a hello. Not even a glance. And maybe that was what hurt the most.
I was starving. My stomach had been growling since second period, and by now it felt like my insides were folding in on themselves. For once, I actually had a bit of money for lunch, thanks to Mrs. Rodriguez, who gently pushed back the crumpled bills I'd handed over and said, "Pay me next month, sweetheart. You need to eat too."
It wasn't just mercy. It felt like grace. And for the first time in weeks, I allowed myself to feel a little hope.
I clutched the few bills in my pocket like they were gold and headed to the cafeteria, telling myself that today might feel normal. I could eat something warm, sit down like everyone else, and not just be the girl who studied through lunch with a bottle of water and a stale biscuit in her bag.
But the moment I stepped inside, the hum of voices died. The chatter cut off like someone had flipped a switch. I froze by the doorway, tray clutched awkwardly in my hands, as dozens of eyes turned toward me, half-lidded, curious, amused. The kind of silence that wasn't just quiet, but heavy, watchful, and painfully loaded.
And then I saw them, my old best friends. The Golden Four. The same girls I used to laugh with at that corner table. The ones I shared secrets and fries and lip gloss with. My friends who swore they'd always have my back.
They looked up from their perfectly portioned lunches, hair shining under the cafeteria lights, matching charm bracelets still glittering on their wrists like nothing had changed.
Except everything had.
Their eyes met mine, and for a second my breath caught. Then Chloe blinked slowly... and looked away.
Trish whispered something, and they all laughed. Belle didn't even smile this time. She just stared at me like I was a name she couldn't quite place.
I was a stranger now. A reminder of something they'd outgrown. And that was the worst part. Not the whispers or the stares. Not even the sharp ache of being noticed only for all the wrong reasons.
It was the fact that the girls who once knew me better than anyone now looked at me like they didn't know me at all. Like I didn't exist.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. The tray in my hands felt heavier with every second. My throat tightened. The cafeteria lights suddenly felt too bright, too harsh.
Without a word, I turned on my heel and walked out, forcing my legs to move even as my chest burned and my fingers trembled.
I found my usual spot beneath the big old tree near the edge of the courtyard, where the breeze at least felt real and the silence didn't sting quite as badly.
Sitting cross-legged in the grass, I pulled out my lunch, a warm chicken roll from the cafeteria, now cold, and my battered math workbook. The equations blurred slightly, but I blinked hard and picked up my pencil anyway.
Because if there was one thing I'd learned, it was how to make myself small enough to survive, and strong enough not to disappear.
I became invisible the day my friends turned their backs on me. One moment, I was part of the group, the next, I was nothing more than a whisper in their past.
But I didn't vanish completely. I found a different kind of strength in silence. I didn't let my grades collapse like the rest of my world had. Between double shifts and cold dinners, I carved time to study, to fight for my future. And when I nearly lost it all, it was Mrs. Rodriguez who stepped in, quietly paying off my tuition balance so I could take my final exams.
So when Mrs. Rodriguez approached me after class one afternoon, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of her lips, I wasn't prepared for what she said next.
"Mia," she said warmly, "Daniel's birthday is this Saturday. It's just a small gathering. Family, a few of his friends. I hope you'll join us."
I froze. The name still made my heart thud.
Daniel Rodriguez, my former best friend, the boy I couldn't stop thinking about. The boy who used to defend me in debate class and walk me to my house. The boy who hadn't spoken to me since my life fell apart.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am," I said quickly, my voice tight. "I have work and—"
She shook her head. "Mia, I didn't help you just so you could bury yourself in work and homework. You're still a teenager. You deserve to smile. To dress up. To have fun like everyone else." Then, with a wink, "And who knows? Maybe someone at that party's been hoping you'd come."
I flushed. "I... I don't think I'd fit in anymore."
"You never needed to fit in," she said softly. "You were always meant to stand out."
She didn't give me a chance to protest. "I'll expect to see you there. No buts. No ifs."
I nodded slowly, my heart pounding.