I didn't respond.
Just tried to step around her.
She moved with me, her body shifting just enough to keep me blocked in. The crowd behind her leaned in like they were watching a play.
"You always come in late, Selene. Trying to get special treatment?" she asked, mock-sweet. "Or maybe you just enjoy the attention."
Her voice was syrupy and poisonous. Fake as hell. I stayed silent.
She reached for my hair—fingers lightly tugging on a loose strand that had fallen from my braid.
I stepped back instinctively.
The others laughed.
"Aw, don't be shy," Ava said, still toying with my hair. "Is this the part where you cry and run away like always? I love that part. It's so—"
"Get out of my way," I said.
The words were low.
But they silenced her for a second.
Just a second.
She blinked, as if surprised that I'd spoken at all.
Then the mask dropped right back into place. That same fake smile twisted her face, and she reached up to pat my shoulder like I was a dog she was humoring.
I stepped forward again, trying to pass.
She didn't budge.
I don't know what exactly snapped. Maybe it was her touch. Maybe it was the laughter. Maybe it was the months—or years—of this exact routine playing on repeat while I stayed silent.
But the next thing I knew, the words were tearing out of me.
"Get. Out. Of. My. Fucking. Way."
And then…
I shoved her.
No, pinned her.
My hands moved faster than my mind. One second she was smirking, the next she was up against the wall, her arms locked at her sides and my hands gripping her shoulders hard enough to bruise.
All the others went dead silent.
No laughter nor whispers.
Just the sound of my breath, ragged and harsh, and Ava staring at me with wide, shocked eyes. She wasn't pretending anymore. The mask had fallen away, and for the first time in forever, she looked scared.
The door burst open.
Miss Amber rushed back in, eyes darting to the scene in front of her. I stepped back fast, dropping Ava to the floor like she'd burned me.
I shook my head, backing away.
What did I just do?
I hadn't meant to. It wasn't planned. It wasn't me.
I don't do that. I don't fight back. I keep my head down. I walk away. I survive. That's all I've ever done.
Miss Amber's gaze flicked between us, her expression unreadable.
I braced myself. For yelling. For detention. For punishment.
But she didn't do any of that.
She raised her voice just enough to be heard across the room.
"That's enough."
Just that.
Then she looked around the classroom, eyes sharp.
"Everyone, get back to your seats or out to lunch. Now."
No one argued.
No one laughed.
They moved in silence.
I backed out of the room, heart pounding, body trembling, still not sure what I'd done or why the teacher hadn't screamed at me yet.
Ava didn't speak. She stayed on the floor for a beat longer before picking herself up, glaring at me—but not saying a word.
Not yet.
I stumbled into the hallway, breath hitching in my throat.
I didn't feel strong.
I didn't feel proud.
I felt afraid.
By the time I made it to the cafeteria, the weight of what had happened earlier still clung to me like smoke. I kept my head down, but I could feel it—every pair of eyes tracking me as I moved past their tables. Not with the usual disgust or disdain this time.
This was different.
Curiosity.
Confusion.
Maybe even fear.
I wasn't used to any of those things being directed at me. Usually, I was ignored or laughed at. But after what happened in the classroom—after I shoved Ava against the wall and the silence dropped like a guillotine—everyone had something to think about.
I walked all the way to the far end of the cafeteria, the same isolated corner I always claimed. The omega zone, quiet and safe.
Or at least it had been.
I grabbed my tray—standard omega meal: dry meat, soggy vegetables, half-stale bread. The usual insult to injury. I didn't care. I wasn't here for taste. I just needed to eat and breathe and not fall apart.
I sat in my usual seat, tucked into the corner near the back wall, and started picking at my food without looking up. If I didn't acknowledge them, maybe they'd stop staring. Maybe I could melt back into the shadows where I belonged.
For a moment, it worked.
Until I heard the familiar sound of hesitant footsteps and felt the air shift beside me.
"Um… hey," a voice said softly.
I looked up.
Lissa.
She stood beside my table, holding her tray, her expression open but unsure.