CHAPTER 33: The Front Row
Walking into Class C felt different today. Usually, I tried to slip into my seat like a ghost, hoping the walls would swallow me whole. But today, with Heather's combat boots clicking rhythmically beside my sneakers, I kept my head up.
Zack was already at his desk, staring fixedly at the doorway. The second I stepped inside, his shoulders dropped an inch, his whole body relaxing as if he'd been holding his breath since Ashley dragged him away.
I didn't head for my usual spot in the back. Instead, I walked straight to the center row. I slid into the chair beside Zack, setting my bag down with a definitive thud. Heather didn't miss a beat, pulling out the chair on my other side and reclaiming her place in my world.
Zack turned to me, his green eyes scanning my face, settling on the dark curtain of hair I'd draped over my left cheek.
"You're actually here," he whispered, leaning in closer until I could smell the faint scent of sea-salt and peppermint that always followed him. "I thought after Ashley... I thought you might have gone home."
"It takes more than a little hallway drama to get rid of me," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt.
Heather leaned across me, giving Zack a knowing look. "Besides, I'm the one with the car keys, and I don't leave until the final bell."
Zack gave a short, quiet laugh, but his gaze drifted back to my hidden cheek. The curiosity was burning in his eyes, a sharp contrast to the relief of having me there.
Just then, the teacher, Mr. Harrison, walked in and slammed a stack of textbooks onto his desk. "Alright, settle down. Open your journals. Today we're discussing the theme of 'The Mask' in classic literature."
I felt a chill go down my spine. The timing was almost too perfect.
Under the desk, Zack's hand moved. For a second, I thought he was going to reach for mine, but he stopped just short of touching my fingers.
"Jane," he muttered under his breath as the rest of the class started shuffling papers. "After this period... no more lies. I want to know exactly what happened to your face."
I looked at Heather, who was already scribbling a doodle of a yellow car in the margin of her notebook. She didn't look up, but she nudged my foot with hers—a silent reminder that I wasn't alone in this anymore.
The classroom was almost settled when the door creaked open one last time. Luke stepped in, scanning the rows for an empty spot, but he stopped dead in his tracks the moment his eyes landed on the middle row.
He stared at Heather as if he were seeing a ghost—or a celebrity who had wandered into the wrong movie set. His jaw tightened, and a look of pure surprise flashed across his face. Heather just gave him a cool, two-finger wave, the kind that said she knew exactly how much of a stir she was causing. Luke didn't say a word; he just shook his head slightly and walked over to sit in his place, though he kept glancing back at our row throughout the morning.
Mr. Harrison cleared his throat and began to take the class, his voice droning on about metaphors and hidden meanings. I tried to focus on my notebook, but I could feel the heat of Zack's gaze on the side of my head the entire time. Every time I moved, I felt the heavy weight of my hair shifting against my bruised cheek, a constant reminder of the secret I was keeping.
The second the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, the room erupted into the usual chaos of shuffling feet and zipping backpacks. But Zack didn't move. He swung his chair around to face me, his expression intense.
"So," Zack said, his voice dropping to that low, serious tone that made my heart skip. "Will you tell me about the mark now? The truth, Jane."
I let out a long, heavy sigh, looking down at my desk to avoid those searching green eyes. "Zack, I told you already," I said, trying to keep my voice light. "It's just me being silly. I was rushing, I didn't see the doorframe, and I'm just a clutz. That's all."
Zack's eyes narrowed, his jaw set in a hard line. He clearly wasn't convinced, his gaze flicking toward the dark hair I was using as a shield.
Heather leaned over, packing her pens with a deliberate slowness. She stepped in perfectly to back me up. "Yeah, Zack, she's telling the truth," she said, her voice smooth and convincing. "I was right there when it happened. You know how Jane gets when she's caught up in a story—she literally walked straight into the wood. I had to give her an ice pack and everything."
Zack looked from me to Heather, his brow furrowing. He wanted to believe us—or maybe he just wanted to believe that the world wasn't as ugly as he suspected. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, looking frustrated.
"Fine," he muttered, though his eyes stayed on my hidden cheek. "But if you're lying to me, Jane... I just want you to know you don't have to. Not anymore."
He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder, but he didn't walk away immediately. He waited for us to stand up, acting as a silent barrier between us and the rest of the students filtering out of the room.
The hallway was crowded, but Ashley carved through the students like she owned the floor. She marched straight up to Zack, ignoring me and Heather entirely at first, and launched into a story with a high-pitched, forced laugh.
"Zack! Omg, you should have seen her face in Class B when I told her she was wrong about the potential energy formula," Ashley said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and looking up at him. "It was embarrassing, honestly. Some people just aren't cut out for the advanced track."
She was trying to reclaim the "smart, perfect" girl image, but Heather, being Heather, wasn't about to let her take the lead. She stepped right into their personal space, with Ray and me trailing just a step behind.
"Potential energy? Groundbreaking, Ashley," Heather drawled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But speaking of embarrassing faces... it reminds me of middle school. Remember when I told you that you looked like a frog princess when you wore that green princess fog dress to the spring dance?"
Zack's eyes lit up as the memory hit him, and he couldn't help it—he let out a genuine, loud laugh that echoed against the lockers.
Ashley's smile vanished instantly. Her face turned a blotchy shade of pink. "Excuse me?" she snapped, her voice trembling with indignation.
I stepped forward, my heart racing, but I didn't let my voice shake. I looked her right in the eye, the dark curtain of my hair still shielding my bruise, but my gaze was steady.
"You are excused, Ashley," I said firmly.
The hallway seemed to go silent for a second. Ashley turned her full attention to me, her eyes narrowing into a cold, threatening glare. It was the kind of look she usually used to make me shrink back and apologize, to make me feel small.
But I didn't flinch. I didn't look away. I stood my ground, anchored by Heather on one side and the fact that Zack was still smiling on the other.
Ashley's jaw tightened. She looked like she wanted to say something cutting, something that would break the "doorframe" lie right there in front of everyone, but with Ray and Heather watching her like hawks, she realized she was outnumbered.
"Whatever," she hissed, spinning on her heel and storming off toward the cafeteria.
Ray whistled low. "Remind me to stay on your good side today, Jane. That was cold."
Zack looked at me, his laughter fading into a look of genuine pride. "You're different today," he murmured, loud enough only for me to hear.
The cafeteria was buzzing with the kind of energy that only follows a public showdown. We walked to the front of the line, got our trays, and headed straight for the large circular table in the center of the room. It was the ultimate power spot, and today, we were claiming it.
Zack sat down first, and Ashley came fluttering over a second later, her eyes fixed on the empty chair beside him. She moved with the confidence of someone who assumed that seat was hers by divine right.
But I was faster.
I slid into the chair on Zack's right side before she could even reach for the back of it. To make the statement final, I leaned in and placed my hand firmly on Zack's arm. On his other side, Ray dropped into the seat, effectively boxing Zack in.
Ashley stood there, tray in hand, looking absolutely hopeless. She looked at the crowded table, then at my hand on Zack's arm, her face twisting in silent fury.
"Ashley! Over here!" Berry called out from a much smaller, quieter table in the corner. Ashley looked back at us, realized there wasn't a single inch of space left, and stomped away to join Berry, her heels clicking like a frantic telegraph.
Now that the "threat" was gone, my heart started to race. I realized I was still clutching Zack's arm in front of the entire school. My face heated up, and I tried to remove my arm, feeling suddenly shy.
But Zack had other plans.
Instead of letting go, he flexed his bicep, pinning my hand against his side and trapping it there. He didn't even look up from his food, but the small, triumphant smirk on his face told me exactly what he was doing. He wasn't just letting me stay; he was making sure I couldn't leave.
Heather, sitting directly across from us, took one look at my trapped hand and Zack's smug expression and couldn't stop laughing. She had to hide her face behind her water bottle to keep from spraying it across the table.
"Something funny, Heather?" Ray asked, grinning as he bit into a sandwich.
"Just the 'clumsy' plot points," Heather managed to wheeze out, giving me a pointed look.
I looked down at my hand, held fast by Zack's arm. The bruise on my cheek still throbbed, and the secret of the slap was still hanging over us, but with Zack holding on and Heather laughing, the "Shadow Girl" felt like a memory of someone I used to be.
The cafeteria began to thin out as the end of the lunch period approached. The adrenaline from the seating "war" was still humming through my veins, but the weight of the hand-trapping moment with Zack was making my face feel like it was on fire.
"Zack, go on ahead," I said, finally managing to gently tug my hand free as he relaxed his arm. "I need to talk to Heather for a second. I'll meet you at the lockers?"
Zack gave me a lingering look—one that made it very clear he still had questions—but he nodded, grabbed his tray, and headed toward the exit.
The second he was out of earshot, Heather practically doubled over. She didn't even try to hide the laughter anymore.
"Oh my god, Jane," she wheezed, wiping her eyes. "You are definitely going to bang him. I've never seen a 'clumsy' girl look so comfortable being pinned by a bicep."
"Stop it!" I hissed, burying my face in my hands. "Stop it, Heather! It wasn't like that. I was just... sending a message to Ashley."
"How can I stop it, Jane?" Heather countered, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Your hand was literally trapped inside his arm. You didn't exactly fight to get away, either. You looked like you were ready to set up camp right there."
I let out a long, defeated breath and peeked through my fingers. "Okay, okay, you are right, Heather. He didn't let go, and I... I didn't want him to."
Heather smirked, looking satisfied with herself, but then she saw my expression shift. The playfulness drained out of my face, replaced by a cold, hard resolve.
"But that's not the matter," I said, my voice dropping.
Heather's eyebrows shot up. She leaned in closer across the table. "Then what is it?"
I took a deep breath, looking toward the door where Zack had disappeared, and then toward the corner where Ashley had been fuming. The time for protecting "history" was over.
"I am going to tell Zack about the photo," I said firmly. "The one from the stalker. The 'Checkmate' Ashley tried to play. Everything."
Heather stared at me for a heartbeat, stunned by the sudden steel in my voice. Then, a huge grin broke across her face and she clapped her hands together loudly, the sound echoing in the nearly empty cafeteria.
"That's my girl!" she cheered. "It's about time you stopped playing defense and started playing for the win. No more 'doorframes,' Jane. It's time for the truth."
I stood up, adjusting the hair over my cheek one last time. I wasn't going to hide behind a curtain of hair anymore. Tonight, the secrets were ending.
Heather and I walked out of the cafeteria, the sound of her laughter still ringing in my ears. But as we stepped into the crowded hallway, I caught sight of the large circular clock above the gym doors.
1:45 PM.
In less than two hours, the final bell would ring. The school day would end, and everyone would scatter—Zack to his practice, Ashley to her social circle, and me back to the safety of my room. If I was going to do this, I couldn't wait until tomorrow. The truth couldn't survive another night of lies and "doorframe" excuses.
"Heather," I said, stopping by the water fountain. "It has to be today. Right after the final bell, before he leaves the building. That's the only time I'll get him without a crowd."
Heather's face turned serious, her playful smirk replaced by a determined nod. "The final bell. Got it. That's our deadline."
I looked down at my phone, the screen glowing with the image that had haunted me for days. One more hour of classes. One more hour of hiding. Then, no more secrets.