Chapter 1: The Steakhouse Showdown

The sizzle of steak on the grill and the chatter of families filled the Saturday night air at Miller's Steakhouse. The sticky vinyl booth squeaked as I shifted, halfway through my fries, when chaos broke out at the next table.

A waitress hovered nearby, hands shaking as she tried to balance a tower of plates. A fat slice of watermelon tumbled off and splatted onto a kid’s Minecraft t-shirt, red juice soaking into the bright green pixels.

The boy’s mom shot up, face blotchy and furious. "Seriously? What is wrong with you?" Her voice rang out, slicing through the buzz of conversation. Heads turned; forks paused mid-air.

The waitress just stood there, shoulders hunched, mumbling apologies—"I'm so sorry, ma'am. I really didn't mean to—" over and over. Her fingers twisted in her apron, and something about her nervous energy made me look closer. I knew her. She was a junior on our student council at State U—Go Blue Devils.

My curiosity piqued, I watched as the parents launched their attack. The dad pointed at her, voice booming, demanding five thousand dollars in compensation. "You ruined his shirt and his night! Pay up!"

The junior’s face drained of color. She tried to explain, voice trembling, "He was bouncing on the seat—I tried to avoid him, but—"

Wrong move. The mom’s voice shot up another octave, her acrylic nails rapping the table. "So now you’re blaming my son? This is your service standard? Apologize to him and pay up!"

The dad loomed over her. The air felt thick with fryer grease and tension as the argument heated up.

Her eyes shone, rimmed with red, like she'd been holding back for hours. Suddenly, she spotted me, desperation flickering in her gaze. "Miss, you saw, right? Could you tell them what happened?"

She looked at me like I was her only chance. And since she was a Blue Devil too, how could I refuse? I set down my fork and dabbed my mouth, feeling the weight of the room’s attention.

"I didn’t see everything," I started, keeping my tone steady, just like Mom always coached me before family reunions. "But I did hear her warn the kid not to jump around. She was trying to keep everyone safe."

The parents’ eyes snapped to me, cold and sharp. The mom sneered, looking me up and down. "What, you two in this together? Oh, look at you, finally splurging on dinner. Must be a special occasion, huh?"

Heat flared in my cheeks. My hands clenched around my napkin. I wanted to disappear, but anger kept me rooted in my seat. I reached for my phone, ready to record or call someone if things got worse.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the junior relax the tiniest bit, grateful to have the spotlight off her. But instead of backing me up, she ducked her head, like a kid trying not to get grounded, and faded into the background.

That stung. I was the one in the crosshairs now, and she just vanished. The bitter taste of betrayal rose in my throat. I should’ve known—no good deed goes unpunished.

Just then, Marcus came striding back from the register, his easy confidence and broad shoulders making me feel a little less alone.