JAY'S POV:
What the fuck happened to this guy? Now I'm stuck in his car while he's driving—or should I say, glancing at me. I've caught him almost twenty times.
"Tss. If you want to say something, just spit it out. I don't speak eye language," I snapped, annoyed.
He finally spoke. "How did you think you could actually score 100 with that brain?"
Not this please 😒
"Well, my brain's a genius. I can score 100. Watch me."
"Oh, really? All your old school marks... you just barely passed." He turned towards me. "Are you using this as an excuse to stay?"
"Never," I shot back, heat rising in my cheeks. "I accepted because I can score 100. It's not overconfidence. Don't worry your pretty little head—I'll get out of that house."
He didn't respond right away, just let the silence stretch, thick and uncomfortable.
I muttered under my breath, "I don't want to see your fucking face ever again."
"Did you say something? He asked, confused.
"No, nothing "
He nodded.
"How do you think you can score 100? You think it's actually easy?"
"No," I said firmly, meeting his gaze this time. "I just know my brain's intelligent enough.
"You so full of yourself "
"No, I'm just stating a fact"
The argument dragged on, back and forth like a never-ending tennis match, until we finally pulled into the school parking lot. It felt like an eternity—the kind where every second chips away at your sanity.
Just remember," he said as I grabbed my bag, "if you don't get 100, I'll leave home."
I nodded curtly, slamming the door behind me, and bolted toward the building. My heart pounded, half from anger, half from the pressure he'd just piled on. Straight to the restroom for a breather.
I pushed open the door—and froze.
A girl stood there, light makeup accentuating her sharp features, classic bangs framing worried eyes.
Wait—I knew her. The one who'd been hovering, wanting to talk that day.
"Finally! I've wanted to meet you for so long," she blurted, relief washing over her face.
"Who are you, and why do you want to meet me?"
I asked, stepping back out into the hallway, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.
"I already introduced myself—don't you remember?"
"I do, but your name slipped."
"Oh, it's fine. I'm Alys Zyril Perez. Call me Alys."
"Right, forgot. I'm—"
"Jasper Jean Mariano. Jay-Jay," she finished with a small smile.
I stood there, stunned.
"How did you—?"
"You're the only girl in the famous Section E. Everyone knows. Plus... I'm curious about you. The new kid holding her own."
Curious. Great.
"Why do you want to meet me, really?"
She glanced around, lowering her voice.
"You must change your section"
My eyes widened.
"But why do you want me to change my section?"
"Well... I was Section E too. A few months back."
Oh, so she is the girl Ms. Zaragosa talked about.
"They were ruthless," she continued, eyes darkening.
"Rude pranks every day, treating me like trash. I told myself I could tough it out, survive like they did. But I only lasted a month."
My interest piqued despite myself.
"What broke you? Why quit?"
"They... they pulled the dirtiest prank imaginable."
"Spill—what was it?" I pressed, leaning in.
She hesitated, cheeks flushing crimson.
"They mixed laxatives in my lunch. Right in front of everyone."
Oh, crap. My stomach churned just imagining it—the humiliation, the laughter echoing.
"I lost all my dignity that day," she whispered, tears welling up.
"Even now, people whisper and tease. 'Laxative Girl.' It never stops."
I didn't think—I just pulled her into a hug. She sobbed into my shoulder, the restroom door creaking behind us.
"I... I begged to change sections after that. I couldn't survive there anymore," she choked out.
"Shh, it's okay," I murmured, rubbing her back. "It's over now. You're out."
When her sobs finally eased, she pulled back, wiping her face.
"I'm telling you this to warn you, Jay-Jay. I saw what happened yesterday—the pranks starting already. It's embarrassing, and it only gets worse. Change sections before it's too late."
Never. I won't bail. Not when this is my shot—my one chance to be near Kiefer, to prove I belong.
"Thanks for the heads-up and the concern," I said gently but firmly. "But I have no intention of changing. I don't care about their stupid games. I'll handle it."
"But—"
"I won't change, and that's final. Thanks for sharing your story, though. Means a lot."
She sighed, defeated but kind.
"I can't force you. Just... I hope nothing like that happens to you."
I smiled lightly.
"If you ever need backup, I'm here."She said, gratefully.
I nodded.
"Deal."
We parted ways, hurrying to class—it was already late, and tardiness meant detention.
I burst into Sir Alvin's room, and sank into my seat at the back.
The room hummed with chatter, chalk dust floating in the air. But my brain wouldn't settle. Alys's words looped endlessly: laxatives, tears, lost dignity. Poor girl. That kind of embarrassment sticks like glue, haunting every hallway glance.
The final bell shattered my thoughts. Wow—I'd zoned out the entire morning , lost in a fog of worry and resolve.
I blinked, shaking it off, and scanned the room amid the usual chaos: chairs scraping, bags zipping, kids shoving toward the door. Then my eyes snagged on...
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Sorry guys, I know I took long to write these chapters. I was busy these days. I hope you understand.