Here lies Bella Rose Richardson's dignity. Gone. Dead. Buried somewhere behind the school wall. A moment of silence, please.
Bella dragged herself toward English class like a woman attending her own funeral. The image refused to leave her head.
The wall.
The jump.
The eyes.
The skirt.
The pink.
Oh God.
The pink.
She covered her face with both hands. Maybe she could transfer schools. Again. Maybe Grams would understand. Actually, no. Grams would laugh first. Then she'd tell the entire family. Bella groaned. This was officially the worst first day of senior year in recorded history.
"You're late, B."
Bella looked up. Nicole Scheuer was sitting at their usual table by the window, looking personally offended by Bella's existence. Nicole always looked perfect. Today was no exception. Perfect straight jet black hair. Perfect nails. Perfect makeup. Perfect posture. Bella hated her a little.
"Where were you?" Nicole demanded. "You said we were getting coffee before class."
"Coffee."
"Yes."
"Before class."
"Yes."
Bella nodded slowly. "That sounds familiar."
Nicole narrowed her eyes. "You forgot, didn't you?"
Bella sat down. "I may have experienced a minor traumatic event."
"What kind of traumatic event?"
"The kind that requires me to relocate to another country."
Nicole didn't even look up from applying lip gloss. "So not that serious."
Bella sighed. Of course. The thing about Nicole was that she wasn't really a listener. She was more of a broadcaster. The human version of a lifestyle magazine.
The second Bella sat down, Nicole launched into a detailed discussion about Paulo's party, outfit options, nail colours, and a mysterious hot transfer student. Bella heard approximately three words. The rest sounded like elevator music. Because her brain was busy replaying the worst moment of her life. Over. And over. And over. And—
"Do you think I should get my nails redone?"
Bella blinked. "What?"
"My nails."
Nicole held them up. "They're perfect."
Nicole smiled. "I know."
Bella resisted the urge to throw something. A familiar voice interrupted them. "Wow. You're actually early."
Stacy dropped into the seat beside them carrying enough food to feed a family of four. "She's late," Nicole corrected.
"Even better."
Bella pointed dramatically. "Thank you. Finally. Someone understands my suffering."
"I don't."
Stacy took a bite. "But I'm willing to pretend."
Bella immediately liked that answer better. The three of them had become friends during sophomore year. Before that, Bella's social life had been... complicated.
Mostly because confessing to boys every few weeks apparently wasn't considered normal behaviour. Who knew?
The classroom gradually filled with students. Bella glanced toward the door. No sign of Mr. Pervert. Good. Excellent. Perfect. Hopefully he'd fallen into a hole somewhere. Then a familiar voice spoke from directly in front of her.
"Are you even listening?" Bella blinked.
Leslie. Right. Her actual best friend. Leslie had apparently been talking for several minutes. Judging by her expression, none of those minutes had been productive.
"Sorry."
Leslie folded her arms. "What happened?"
Bella hesitated. Then immediately buried her face in the desk. Leslie groaned. "Oh no."
"What?"
"This has something to do with the handbook, doesn't it?"
Bella made a strangled sound. Unfortunately, yes. Everything somehow came back to the handbook. The Definitive Guide to Boys. Her masterpiece. Her greatest achievement. Her emotional support scrapbook. Over six years of magazine clippings, notes, observations, charts, and highly scientific research.
Leslie referred to it as: "A cry for help."
Bella preferred: "A valuable educational resource."
Leslie stared at her. Bella stared at the desk. Neither spoke. Finally, Leslie pinched the bridge of her nose. "What happened?"
Bella peeked up. "You have to promise not to laugh."
Leslie immediately laughed. "You haven't even told me yet."
"Promise."
"I can't promise something I know I'm going to break."
"Leslie."
"Fine. I promise."
Bella sat up. Then lowered her voice dramatically. "What I'm about to tell you stays between us."
Leslie sighed. "Why does every terrible story start that way?"
Bella ignored her. Five minutes later, she had finished recounting the entire disaster. The wall. The jump. The eyes. The pink floral underwear. The slap.
Silence. A long silence. Leslie stared. Bella waited. Leslie's lips trembled. Bella pointed a warning finger.
"Don't."
Leslie made a strange choking sound.
"Don't."
A wheeze escaped.
"Leslie."
That was it. Leslie exploded. The entire classroom turned to look. She doubled over laughing. Actual tears streamed down her face. Bella sat there in complete betrayal. "You promised."
"I'm sorry," Leslie gasped. Then immediately started laughing again. "You slapped him!"
Bella groaned. "I know."
"After he saved you!"
"I KNOW."
"And he wasn't even being creepy!"
"He saw things!"
"He was trying to warn you!"
"He still saw things!"
Leslie wiped tears from her eyes. "Oh my God."
Bella folded her arms. This was why people couldn't be trusted. She poured out her trauma. And people laughed. "What happened after?"
"I ran."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
Leslie shook her head. "You are unbelievable."
Bella chose not to respond. Mostly because she was busy reliving the horror all over again. "What if he knows who I am?" she whispered.
Leslie frowned. "What?"
"What if he recognized me?"
"Oh please."
"I'm serious."
Bella sat upright. The panic returned instantly. "What if he remembers me?"
Leslie looked confused. "From what?"
Bella froze. Then immediately wished she hadn't brought it up. Unfortunately, it was too late. Leslie's eyes widened. "Oh no."
Bella groaned. "Oh yes."
"The Caleb thing?"
"The Caleb thing." Leslie buried her face in her hands. At least it wasn't as bad as the Nate Incident. Nobody talked about the Nate Incident anymore. Which probably meant they definitely still talked about it.
"Please tell me we're not revisiting this."
"We might be revisiting this."1096Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpJUy7S5mPm
"That was a year ago."
"A traumatic year ago."
"You sang to him."
"It was romantic."
"It was public."
Bella cringed.
Fair. At the time, she'd been completely convinced Caleb was her thirty-seventh true love.
Thirty-seventh. Not that she was counting. She was absolutely counting. There was a spreadsheet. Several spreadsheets, actually. Some people collected stamps. Bella collected emotional damage. The point was she'd spent two months preparing the perfect confession. The perfect song. The perfect moment. The perfect speech. Then Caleb transferred schools immediately afterward. The timing felt suspicious. "I still think he panicked."
Leslie stared. "He fled the city, Bella."
"We don't know that."
"He literally moved."
Bella chose to ignore this. "What if Wall Guy saw the video?"
Leslie blinked. "Oh."
"Exactly."
"Oh no."
"EXACTLY."
Now Leslie finally looked concerned. Because there were few things worse than becoming a school legend. And Bella had already been one. Once was enough. Twice would require changing her name. "I don't need another nickname."
"What nickname?"
Bella pointed dramatically. "The Girl Who Got Dumped." Leslie winced. Okay. Maybe it had been a little brutal.
"Now imagine this one." Bella took a deep breath. "The Girl With Pink Floral Underwear."
Leslie immediately started laughing again. Bella dropped her head onto the desk. Hopeless. Everyone was hopeless. "Your suffering is hilarious."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
Bella sighed. Unfortunately, she didn't. Leslie was still grinning when her eyes landed on Bella's bag. "Where's the handbook?"
Bella froze. A strange feeling settled in her stomach. Not panic. Not yet. Just concern. Slowly, she opened her bag. Then frowned. She dug deeper. Moved books aside. Checked every pocket. Nothing. Her heartbeat quickened. "No."
"What?"
Bella emptied half the contents onto the desk. Pens. Notebooks. Lip balm. Hair clips. A receipt from three months ago. No handbook. "No."
Leslie sat upright. "Bella?"
Bella checked again. Then again. Then a third time. The handbook wasn't there. The handbook was never not there. Her entire life philosophy was in that handbook. Six years. Six years of research. Six years of observations. Six years of highly scientific data. Gone. "It's not here."
Leslie looked alarmed. "Bella."
"It's not here."
"Bella."
"IT'S NOT HERE."
Several students jumped. The entire room went silent. Bella stared into the horrifying void where her handbook should have been. Then suddenly remembered. The wall. The jump. The devil. The stupidly pretty eyes. The handbook. "Oh."
Leslie already knew."Oh no."
"Oh yes." The handbook was with him.
Before Bella could fully process the disaster unfolding before her, the classroom door burst open. Melissa Torres stormed inside like a reporter who had just uncovered government corruption. Which, for Melissa, was basically every Tuesday. Melissa didn't just collect gossip. She hunted it. If information existed, Melissa would find it. If it was embarrassing, she would somehow find it faster.
Bella had once watched Melissa uncover an entire cheating scandal using nothing but a yearbook photo, three Instagram stories, and what she described as "journalistic instincts." It was deeply concerning.
"EVERYBODY SHUT UP."
The room immediately went quiet. Melissa lived for gossip. More importantly— Melissa always delivered. She tossed her hair dramatically. "I have news."
Several girls straightened in their seats. A few boys groaned. One guy actually muttered, "Here we go."
Melissa ignored them. "There is a new transfer student."
The room exploded. "What?"
"Seriously?"
"From where?"
"Is he cute?"
Melissa held up both hands. "One question at a time."
Near the back window, a boy with thick glasses didn't even look up. While everyone else was practically vibrating with excitement, he simply turned another page in his textbook. Bella couldn't imagine anyone being that uninterested in school gossip.
Nobody listened. The screaming intensified. Bella barely paid attention. She was still mourning the loss of her handbook. Six years. Gone. Stolen. Kidnapped. Possibly violated. Who knew what that psychopath was doing with it right now?
Reading it?
Laughing at it?
Using it as a weapon?
The possibilities were endless and horrifying. "He's from Reale Academy." The room gasped. Okay. That got Bella's attention. Even she knew Reale Academy. The school was famous for producing rich kids, attractive students, and people who somehow looked like they belonged in magazine advertisements.
"He plays sports." More screaming.
"He's single." Even more screaming.
"He is ridiculously hot." At this point, half the girls in the room looked ready to propose marriage. Melissa smiled smugly. She loved this.
"So basically," Stacy muttered beside Bella, "he's a human golden retriever." Nicole looked offended. "Golden retrievers are cute."
"He could be a poodle."
"Don't insult him before we've seen him."
Bella nodded seriously. "That's fair."
Leslie looked horrified. "Are all of you hearing yourselves right now?"
"No." The three of them answered simultaneously.
Leslie groaned. Bella's attention immediately returned to the handbook. The transfer student could wait. Her life was actively falling apart.
"Oh my God." She shot upright.
Leslie jumped. "What?"
"We have to find it."
"The handbook?"
"THE handbook."
Leslie stared. "Bella."
"No, seriously."
"Bella."
"What if he reads it?"
Leslie blinked. Then slowly smiled. "Oh."
Bella didn't like that smile.
"Oh what?"
"What if he already has?"
Bella stopped breathing. The world stopped spinning. The classroom disappeared. The sun exploded. "What?"
"What if Wall Guy found it?"
"No."
"It fell out during the wall thing, didn't it?"
"No."
"It definitely fell out."
"No."
"Bella."
"No."
"Bella."
Bella grabbed Leslie's shoulders. "Bella Rose Richardson cannot survive that level of humiliation."
Leslie was trying very hard not to laugh. Again. Then suddenly— The room went silent. Not normal classroom silent. Weird silent. Movie silent. Everybody turned toward the door. Bella frowned. "What now?"
No one answered. Instead, every single person in the room stared toward the hallway. Melissa's jaw dropped. Nicole stopped fixing her hair. Even Leslie looked confused. A strange feeling settled in Bella's stomach. Slowly, she turned around. And immediately wished she hadn't. A tall figure stood in the doorway. Dark hair. Blonde streak. Bandaged hand. Bandaged shoulder. Expression permanently set to irritated. Bella felt her soul leave her body. No. Absolutely not. Not here. Not now. Not today. The guy scanned the room. His gaze landed on Bella. The corner of his mouth twitched. Oh God. He remembered her. Of course he remembered her. People usually remembered the person who slapped them. Then Bella noticed what he was holding. The handbook. Her handbook. Her beautiful. Precious. Irreplaceable. Entirely-too-detailed handbook. The Definitive Guide to Boys. Every ounce of blood drained from her face.
Leslie slowly turned toward her. "Oh no."
"Oh yes." The guy lifted the book slightly. Like a hunter displaying a trophy. Bella considered jumping out the window. It seemed like the safest option. The classroom remained silent. Waiting. Watching. Curious.
The guy finally spoke."Is there a Bella Rose Richardson here?"
Bella died. Not physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Academically. She died in every possible way. Around her, twenty-five heads slowly turned.
Every.
Single.
One.
Pointing directly at her. Traitors. All of them. The guy's eyes never left hers. Then, to make matters infinitely worse—
He smiled. Not a nice smile. Not a friendly smile. A smile that said: I know exactly what's inside this book.
Bella wanted the floor to open and swallow her whole. Instead, she squeaked. Actually squeaked. The sound was horrifying. The guy glanced down at the cover. Then back at her. "Pretty sure this belongs to you, Princess."
The entire classroom gasped. Bella closed her eyes. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. The first day of senior year wasn't even over yet. And somehow— It was already the worst day of her life.
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