Chapter 3: Gossip, Loyalty, and New Lines Drawn

I kept running into Jake. Lately, he seemed to use the bathroom way too often. My seat was by the window, and every time he passed, he looked like he wanted to say something but held back. Finally, one day, he knocked on my window.

The whole class turned to look. I pretended not to notice, but my heart skipped a beat every time I saw his shadow outside.

Most of the class had already noticed him by now, sneaking glances even though they all gossiped about how wild he was. There was just something about him—confident, unapologetic—that drew envy, even if no one would admit it.

Some girls whispered about his looks, others rolled their eyes. But nobody could ignore him—not really.

Jake didn't seem to care about their looks. His eyes found me, and suddenly it felt like we were the only two people in the room. "Chloe Yu."

His voice was low, just for me. I looked up, trying to hide my surprise. He smiled, lopsided and a little shy.

I looked up. He leaned down, face close through the window, his handsome features magnified.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe. He was so close I could see the tiny scar above his eyebrow.

"What is it?" I asked.

I tried to sound casual, but my voice came out softer than I meant. He grinned, leaning even closer.

His collar was a little open, veins standing out on his hand as he braced against the window. I looked away, trying not to notice how attractive he was.

The sun was out—a rare winter sun, shining bright. Jake shifted, blocking the glare for me.

He rubbed the back of his head, looking awkward. "Do you want some hot coffee? I just passed the break room and it's empty. Want me to fill your cup?"

He glanced at my thermos, then back at me, hopeful. I hesitated, not sure what to say.

I hesitated. How could the break room be empty now? He still hadn't given up on my thermos. If I'd known, I wouldn't have bought this style.

I fiddled with the cap, trying to buy time. Why did I feel so bad about something so dumb? It was silly, but I felt guilty for lying to him.

After a few seconds, I lied, "Thanks, but I just filled it myself."

I was a terrible liar, but Jake seemed to believe me, grinning easily. "Alright, I'll get it for you next time. I'm free anyway."

He winked before closing the window, and I felt my face heat up. Why did he have to make everything so complicated?

He closed the window and left. I'd just gotten a new deskmate last week—Hailey had moved seats.

I watched her go, feeling a pang of loneliness. She’d always been my anchor in class.

She hugged me: "Chloe, I'm off to chase love. The class rep is an iceberg, but I'll be the one to melt him. Like, seriously—he's the Elsa of our grade, but I’m bringing the heat!"

She whispered it like a secret, her eyes shining with determination. I squeezed her hand, wishing her luck.

I stared at her shining eyes. Hailey had a passion and courage I lacked. I wished her happiness. "Go for it. If you like someone, chase them. Don't let yourself regret it. We only get so many days to live."

She grinned, saluted, and marched off to her new seat. I watched her go, feeling oddly proud.

So Hailey ignored the class rep's icy expression and plopped herself down behind him.

The whole class watched, waiting for drama, but Hailey just smiled and pulled out her notebook. The class rep barely glanced her way, but I could tell he was flustered.

My new deskmate was a girl with black-rimmed glasses. We weren't close, but I knew she worked hard, just hadn't found the right study methods, so her grades stayed average.

She was quiet, always scribbling in her planner, her brow furrowed in concentration. I tried to be friendly, but she kept her guard up.

When Jake was around, she didn't dare say a word, or even look at him. But after he left, she frowned at me. "Chloe."

She waited until the room was quiet, then leaned in, her voice low and urgent. I put down my pen, bracing myself for whatever was coming. Ugh, here we go again.

I paused my writing, signaling for her to speak.

She tapped her pencil against her notebook, glancing around like she was afraid someone might overhear.

"When did you start hanging out with someone like Jake? He's even filling your thermos now."

Her tone was sharp, almost accusatory. I tried not to roll my eyes.

Before I could answer, she kept going: "I know Jake is handsome, but he has a bad temper, and he's from Class B."

She wrinkled her nose, like the words tasted bad. I bristled, but kept my face neutral.

I looked at her. "What's wrong with Class B?"

She frowned deeper, like I was being naive. "You're the top student in our grade. Class B is full of slackers. If you hang out with him, you'll get dragged down."

Her words stung more than I expected. I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Seriously?

I looked at her 'for your own good' expression and smiled. "Don't worry about me. I know what I'm doing." Then I went back to my work.

She huffed, clearly dissatisfied, but didn’t push it. I could feel her eyes on me for the rest of class.

She didn't get the answer she wanted and looked annoyed, but said nothing more.

I focused on my notes, pretending not to notice her glare. Some people just couldn’t stand it when you didn’t fit their idea of who you should be.

Everyone said Jake had a bad temper, but I thought he was incredibly patient. He'd come by for days in a row, and every time I told him I'd already filled my cup. He'd glance at my chapped lips, his eyes dimming.

He never argued or pushed. He’d just nod, give me a small smile, and walk away. It made my heart ache a little, seeing him so hopeful and then so disappointed.

He could tell I was turning him down. He didn't show much on his face, but I could sense his disappointment. As he left, his voice was very soft: "Remember to drink water. It's okay if you're a few minutes late to class."

His words were gentle, almost protective. I found myself looking forward to seeing him, even if I pretended not to care. My chest squeezed a little at how sweet he was.

For some reason, I couldn't meet his eyes, just nodded with my pen.

I watched him go, my chest tight. I wanted to say something, but the words never came.

After that, he stopped coming. I barely saw him anymore.

The halls felt emptier without him lurking nearby. I missed his quiet presence more than I wanted to admit.

At the parent-teacher conference, some girls who couldn't stand me cornered me by the stairs.

They circled me like sharks, their voices low and mean. I hugged my books to my chest, bracing myself for whatever was coming.

"Well, class president, not setting a good example, huh? This conference is so important, and your parents aren't even coming?"

They sneered, their eyes cold. I tried to keep my voice steady, but my hands were shaking.

I could feel their malice, but I didn't want a fight. "They're just busy."

I forced a smile, hoping they’d get bored and leave me alone. No such luck.

The lead girl sneered, "Busy, or just don't care? I heard your mom married a rich guy, so you must be pretty neglected. Always dressed so well, but life in a rich family must be hard, right?"

She looked me up and down, her words sharp as knives. I bit my lip, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

Someone chimed in, "Yeah, why else work so hard at school? No backup plan for the future. I heard you have a stepsister who went here too, but she must be nothing special—never heard you mention her."

They ganged up, piling on insults. I stared at the floor, wishing I could disappear.

I hated that I'd gotten so used to playing nice that I couldn't even insult people properly. "That's not true. My family treats me well, and my sister is beautiful and cool."

My voice shook, but I meant every word. I wouldn’t let them tear down the people I loved.

They laughed even harder at my serious defense. I wanted to scream, "I'm not making this up!" but just ended up muttering, "Whatever." Why do I even try?

Their laughter echoed down the stairwell, cruel and childish. I clenched my fists, fighting back tears.

I looked at them and suddenly felt it was all so childish—hurting people with words wasn't impressive.

I straightened my shoulders, meeting their eyes. I realized I didn’t care what they thought. I was tired of pretending.

Suddenly, someone slung an arm around my shoulders, her voice icy: "I'd spit on you, but it'd be a waste of my spit. Who do you think you are, knowing everything?"

I looked up, thrilled—it was my stepsister! She'd come to the conference for me! I adored her; she was the coolest woman I'd ever met.

She just grinned, all confidence. With her there, I could finally breathe.

Not only did she come for me, she stood up for me, too!

She glared at the other girls, her presence enough to make them shrink back. I felt a surge of pride—my sister was a legend for a reason.

She'd been a legendary student at Maple Heights High, and people still talked about her. The moment she said her name, the girls bothering me backed off fast, their faces going pale. They never expected my stepsister would be Anna Yu—a name etched in the school's history.

The air shifted the moment Anna spoke. The girls stammered out apologies, eyes wide with fear. I almost felt sorry for them—almost.

After that, my school life was bound to get easier.

With Anna in my corner, nobody dared mess with me. I walked a little taller, knowing I had someone who’d always have my back.

On the way to the classroom with my sister, I ran into Jake again. This time, I had nowhere to hide, so I ducked behind my sister.

Anna raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. Jake and his friends swaggered down the hall, their voices carrying.

Jake strutted right in the center of his group. A guy asked, "Jake, you really interested in that girl?"

Jake didn't answer. His friend sounded incredulous: "No way, Jake, you really like her? You two barely even talk."

Jake shoved his hand in his pocket, face unreadable, making no effort to explain. But as he passed us, he glanced at me behind my sister, and the cool mask slipped just a little, the corners of his mouth lifting.

He smirked, and for a split second, I saw the boy who filled my thermos, not the tough guy everyone else feared.

He drawled, a mischievous lilt in his voice: "Can't help it. First time I saw her, I'd already picked out our matching Instagram icons." I couldn't help remembering he'd said the same thing before—was he really that obvious?

His friends groaned, "Jake, you're such a lovesick fool."

They shoved him, laughing, but Jake just grinned, unbothered. I ducked lower behind Anna, mortified.

I stayed hidden until they turned the corner, finally letting out a breath.

Anna laughed, nudging me. "You know, for a girl who never gets flustered, you sure are hiding a lot."

My sister laughed. "Why hide from that guy? He's pretty cute."

She waggled her eyebrows, and I groaned. She’d never let me live this down.

I explained awkwardly, "He's weird. For a month, he'd skip morning PE to come fill my water bottle. One time I caught him wiping the rim of my cup—he didn't say a word, just ran off. I was freaked out, but then I figured he must've used my cup and was scared I'd notice, so he filled it up and wiped it down. Why else be so careful? I shouldn't have bought that style—he probably liked it."

I rambled, my words tumbling over each other. Anna just stared at me, half-amused, half-exasperated. Why am I like this?

My sister's face was priceless. After a long pause, she managed, "You're really allergic to romance, aren't you?"

She shook her head, laughing. "You’re hopeless, Chloe. Absolutely hopeless."

After seeing my sister to class, I headed to the library. But just as I reached the stairwell where I'd kept running into Jake, a familiar voice called out.

The echo of his voice made my heart jump. I turned, and there he was—leaning against the wall, looking impossibly cool in his letterman jacket.

It was Jake, leaning casually against the wall, looking both cocky and handsome. He walked over, his large hand landing on my shoulder. He bent down, his dark eyes catching mine, teasing.

His grip was gentle, but firm. I could smell the faint scent of his cologne—clean, a little spicy, like cedarwood and coffee.

I shrank back a little. "What do you want?"

I tried to sound annoyed, but my voice wavered. Jake just grinned, his eyes softening.

He stared at my face, voice tight: "So you didn't let me fill your thermos because you thought I was some creep who wanted to drink from your cup?"

His words made me blush. I hadn’t realized he’d overheard. My mouth went dry.

I blinked in surprise. "You heard that?"

Jake snorted. "If I hadn't overheard, how long would I have stayed miserable?"

He shook his head, half-smiling, half-exasperated. I felt a pang of guilt.

I frowned, confused. Jake sighed, resigned: "Chloe, you should've told me. Did you know I thought you were avoiding me because you didn't want to be associated with me? It killed me."

His voice was raw, more honest than I’d ever heard. I swallowed, not sure what to say.

His hand on my shoulder was warm and solid. He was wearing a basketball jersey and wristbands—he must've been heading to play.

He looked down at his shoes, scuffing the toe against the floor. I could see the tension in his jaw. I felt a weird flutter in my chest, watching him struggle for words.

I stared at him, almost lost in his looks. My heart started pounding out of nowhere. I broke free from his grip. "Then why did you fill my water? And why wipe the rim so carefully—are you sure you didn't sneak a drink?"

I tried to sound teasing, but my voice came out shaky. Jake’s eyes widened, and he shook his head, looking almost offended.

Jake straightened, giving me a helpless look. "No, Chloe. I swear, I never did!"

He held up his hands in surrender, his expression earnest. I almost laughed at how serious he was.

"Then why do it? We don't even know each other."

I folded my arms, waiting for his answer. He hesitated, then met my eyes.

"Isn't it possible I like you?"

He said it so simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. My heart skipped a beat. I looked away, suddenly unable to breathe.

Finding out he wasn't some weirdo using my cup was a huge relief. Wait—he likes me? Oh my god!

I stared at him in disbelief. When I saw how serious he was, I sobered up, answering just as seriously: "Sorry, Jake, but I only admire people stronger than me. Honestly, I never really paid attention to you before. But it's normal to have a crush at our age—I get it."

I tried to sound mature, but my voice trembled. Jake didn’t flinch—he just nodded, like he’d expected it.

Jake's expression was uncharacteristically earnest. "Tell me what it takes for you to notice me."

His words caught me off guard. I searched his face, looking for a hint of sarcasm, but found none.

I met his eyes. "I only pay attention to the top three in the grade, because if I slack off, they could overtake me."

I spoke quietly, but I meant every word. Jake’s eyes narrowed, and a slow smile spread across his face.

Jake was silent for a moment, then bent down to meet my gaze, grinning roguishly. "Alright. Next exam, I'll show you what I can do."

He looked so confident, I almost believed him. I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t hide my smile.

He straightened and started down the stairs, then turned back. "Chloe, forgot to mention—I got into Maple Heights High on a special admit."

He tossed the words over his shoulder, and I froze. Special recommendation? That was almost unheard of at our school. Like, was he a secret prodigy or something? Wild.

I froze. A special admit? Maple Heights was notoriously hard to get into—you either paid a fortune or had the grades. If he got in that way, he had to be seriously impressive.

I stared after him, curiosity burning. Who was this guy, really?

I couldn't help asking, "What about all the exams since you started high school?"

Jake's lips curled in a lazy smile. "I turned in blank papers. I picked Class B on purpose."

He shrugged, as if it was no big deal. I gaped at him, speechless. This was a twist I hadn’t seen coming.

Damn, things just got interesting.

I grinned, feeling a rush of excitement. Maybe Jake was more than just a pretty face with a bad reputation.

Jake kept his word. In the next monthly exam, he jumped from the bottom to second place, right below me, just three points behind.

The whole school buzzed with gossip. Teachers stared at the rankings in disbelief. I caught Jake watching me across the cafeteria, a smug grin on his face.

Everyone was stunned, but then the rumors started:

"No way, Class B's guy got second place? He must've cheated."

"Is the school not going to check? Maybe he got the answers."

"Who knows? Would anyone dare report him?"

"He never cared about grades before—why now?"

"If I had the answers, I wouldn't have written them all. Too obvious."

The whispers grew louder with every passing day. Jake acted like he didn’t care, but I saw the way his jaw clenched whenever someone brought it up.

...

Rumors about Jake cheating were everywhere. No one bothered to find out the truth—they just assumed what they wanted.

It was like the whole school decided he was guilty, just because it fit their narrative. I wanted to scream at them, but I knew it wouldn’t help.

It's like everyone thinks they have the right to judge from the moral high ground, even if they're not so great themselves. Words are easy, but they can crush someone. People can be such hypocrites, honestly.

I remembered all the times people had whispered about me—about my family, my grades, my friends. It never got easier.

Before I saw for myself how Jake was handling it, I worried about him constantly.

I watched him from afar, trying to catch his eye. He never looked back, but I could tell he was hurting.

At lunch, my new deskmate wanted to go to the library with me. On the way, she brought up Jake's exam.

She fell into step beside me, her voice low. I braced myself, knowing where this was going.

"Chloe, do you think Jake Johnson from Class B cheated?"

Her tone was loaded, like she was daring me to defend him. I didn’t hesitate.

I didn't hesitate. "No."

I met her gaze, daring her to challenge me. She looked taken aback, but quickly recovered.

She frowned. "Are you just defending him because he's good-looking? No way he could get that high a score out of nowhere."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Please. You know, Jake was admitted to Maple Heights on a special admit. That's why his starting rank was last—he didn't need to take the entrance exam."

I watched her expression shift from disbelief to annoyance. She hated not having the last word.

She looked skeptical. "Who told you that?"

"Jake did."

I kept my voice calm, but my heart was pounding. I hated these confrontations, but I wasn’t going to let her talk down to me.

Her tone turned mocking: "Yeah right, that's a lie. You believe anything."

She rolled her eyes, but I stood my ground.

I shot back, "Why not believe him?"

She retorted, "Someone like him..."

I cut her off calmly: "I saw you give Jake a love letter, and he turned you down. Back then, you listed all his good qualities. Now you're smearing him behind his back. Is it because you were embarrassed about being rejected?"

Her face went red, embarrassed at being called out. Her voice got shrill: "No! How could you think that of me?"

She looked around, hoping someone would back her up, but nobody did. I almost felt bad for her—almost.

I didn't back down, just looked at her directly. "I can't think of another reason. It's not that hard to admit someone else is good."

My words hung in the air. She glared at me, but I didn’t flinch.

Her expression turned nasty. "Chloe, I thought you were easy to get along with. I was wrong. You're such a fake! I'm telling the teacher—I want to change seats! I don't want to sit with you anymore!" I almost snorted—what, are we twelve?

I nodded gently, serious. "Okay, please do."

I turned back to my notes, letting out a slow breath. Some people just weren’t worth the effort.

"You..."

She stormed off, and I sighed, realizing my emotions were getting the better of me.

I closed my eyes for a second, trying to calm down. I hated letting people get under my skin.