Chapter 3: Fighting for Every Inch

At lunch break, the classroom was busy, but I kept my head down studying until I saw Nathaniel come in. He’d been gone all morning, supposedly prepping for the English competition. Only one spot—why should he get it?

He came straight over. "You okay? I got you some food from the cafeteria."

He set the tray down gently, eyes flicking to my bruised arm. I remembered how I used to find comfort in those small gestures. Now, I just felt wary.

Oh, so that’s why you ran off at the office door.

I stared at him. At this point in time, our feelings were just starting to grow. He was an orphan, and I was basically one too. In those youthful years, we saw each other as kindred spirits, warming each other. I remembered him swearing to get into a good university, to prove everyone wrong; I remembered him crying, asking me to help him pay for another year of study; I remembered the cold look on his face when he forced me to divorce him…

Those memories tangled together—sweet, bitter, sharp. I felt the ache of all the things we’d never said.

"Wow, the top student bringing food to the bottom of the class! You two are so poor, and you’re still trying to date?" Chloe Martin walked in, drawing out her words to get laughs from her clique. She was the class beauty, using her looks to build a little group, always recruiting and dropping new members.

Her voice dripped with mockery. Her posse snickered, circling like sharks.

"Bringing lunch means dating? You sure know a lot—maybe you’re the one in a relationship?" I said as I sorted my books from the bag.

I kept my tone light, but my eyes were sharp. I wouldn’t let her get under my skin.

No one knew it yet, but after graduation, word spread in the class group: she’d had an online romance in high school, snuck out at night to go online, got pregnant after meeting her internet boyfriend after the SATs, and became a mom before graduating college.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. People who shout the loudest often have the most to hide.

"You! Nonsense!" Chloe, clearly triggered, tried to throw my books.

Her hand was fast, but mine was faster. I yanked the books away, shooting her a glare that could freeze lava.

I pushed her away, glaring coldly at Nathaniel. He was too proud—last time, I always had to be the one to make a scene. He was looking at me the same way as before.

I caught the flicker of guilt in his eyes, but I didn’t care. I was done cleaning up his messes.

I ignored him, busy protecting my books. But Chloe’s friends rushed over, and my bag burst open, my books stomped on. Mess with me if you want, but not my books!

The rage bubbled up, white-hot. I lunged, shoving desks aside. My fists were clumsy but determined.

I couldn’t hold back—I kicked the desk and charged in. After a scuffle, the five of us were dragged to the office by our homeroom teacher, Mr. Grant, who also taught math.

My hair was a mess, my shirt untucked, but I didn’t care. I’d finally fought back.

Mr. Grant slammed the desk, furious. “What are you girls doing, fighting like this? This is an honors class! If you don’t want to study, go home! Especially you!” He pointed at me. “Maya Brooks! You’re the worst—bad grades, bad behavior, fighting, always late! How many demerits have you racked up?”

His voice echoed in the cramped office. I could feel my cheeks burn, but I stood my ground.

"They stepped on my books first…" I tried to explain. Mr. Grant never believed me—Chloe always acted sweet in front of teachers.

Her crocodile tears started up right on cue. I wanted to roll my eyes so hard they’d fall out.

Chloe had been working up to it, and suddenly put on a pitiful act. "Mr. Grant, I want to report Maya for being a bad influence and seducing Nathaniel. I caught them, and when I said I’d tell the teacher, they hit me."

The room went silent. I felt Nathaniel tense beside me.

Nathaniel was the school’s hope for a top university. Hearing this, Mr. Grant got even angrier, tossing my books at me. Mrs. Hall stepped in to stop him.

Her presence was a lifeline. I shot her a grateful look.

"Mr. Grant, you can’t just accuse someone of seducing. Why not ask the boy?"

Her voice was calm, but the challenge was clear. The room tensed, waiting for Nathaniel’s answer.

Nathaniel kept his head down as Mr. Grant questioned him angrily. This didn’t happen last time, but I could already predict Nathaniel’s answer—classic self-serving logic.

He fiddled with his sleeves, eyes darting away. I braced myself for the worst.

"Maya asked me to get her lunch…" Nathaniel looked embarrassed, as pale as his old uniform. "Teacher, I didn’t mean anything by it. Before, she just asked me questions…"

"What subject?" I cut him off. Nathaniel stammered.

"English."

What a joke!

Me, who could banter with native speakers as a waitress, asking you about English?

I let out a laugh, sharp and humorless. The absurdity of it all almost made me dizzy.

"Mr. Grant, he’s lying. First, the lunch was his idea. Second, I never asked him about English. My English isn’t the best, but I don’t need his help."

I could see the doubt flicker in Mrs. Hall’s eyes. I held her gaze, silently begging her to believe me.

"You, with a 40, saying your English is better than Nathaniel’s?" Mr. Grant waved my grade sheet in my face.

The big red numbers glared up at me. I clenched my jaw, refusing to let him see me break.

Looking at the big red 40, I went silent.

I bit my lip, fighting the urge to snap back. I’d let my results speak for me.

"Fine. If you don’t pass English in the finals, you’re out of the honors class. Go to the regular class!"

His ultimatum rang out like a judge’s gavel. I nodded, calm and cold.

"Okay," I replied coolly.

Back at my desk, I started planning my study schedule. The SATs were coming. Even though I’d learned advanced math and my English was good, I’d never practiced the actual test questions—who knew if I could do it? I felt anxious and started tapping my foot.

The weight of it all pressed down, but I refused to let it crush me. I scribbled out a schedule, my resolve hardening with every line.

Ben frowned. "Can you stop moving?"

His voice was rough with sleep. I shot him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry…" I shamelessly asked, "Can I borrow your study materials?" He had a stack of review books on his desk, all looking brand new.

The covers were crisp, barely touched. I reached for them, hoping he wouldn’t mind.

Ben didn’t answer, just pushed the books over. I flipped to the table of contents and saw the English practice sections. The books were divided into A and B versions—purple for a second pass, red for the first. Either way, they were packed with practice sets: multiple choice, reading, task-based reading…

The organization was almost surgical. I felt a flicker of respect—he took his academics seriously, even if he slept through class.

"Are you actually studying or just flipping pages?" Chloe mocked from a few seats away. Others saw how fast I was flipping and snickered.

Their voices grated, but I kept my eyes on the page. I was done giving them power.

"Is this the legendary quantum reading method—25 seconds per book?"

"More like 250."

The peanut gallery never missed a chance to heckle. I let their words fade into background noise.

I ignored them and kept reading. English is all about vocabulary, and I’d already memorized the GRE list. Even if I hadn’t done many practice questions, I’d manage with a little practice. If Nathaniel said I asked about math, maybe I’d worry—college entrance math isn’t the same as advanced math. But English? No problem.

I ran my finger down the word lists, mouthing the trickier ones under my breath. I could feel the knowledge settling back into place.

Lost in thought, Ben suddenly kicked my desk. The loud bang was followed by silence.

The shock jolted me back to reality. I looked up, startled.

"What’s all the noise?" He was talking to the chattering girls. Chloe and her friends turned red, humiliated by their crush’s scolding.

The room fell silent. For once, I felt grateful for Ben’s reputation.

Chloe ran out crying—probably to her uncle, Mr. Grant. I smirked, muttering, "Think you can mess with Ben Lockwood?"

I let the satisfaction linger for a moment. It was rare to see the tables turn.

"What’s so funny?" Ben heard me. "You think I’m bullying people with my family’s money?"

His tone was sharp, but his eyes were curious. I shook my head quickly.

Didn’t expect him to be so sharp.

"No, no, just a toothache."

I flashed a crooked grin, hoping he’d let it slide.

Whether he believed me or not, I cheerfully helped tidy his desk. "Go ahead and sleep. I won’t say a word."

He grunted, but didn’t protest. I stacked his books, careful not to disturb him.

In my last life, my brief contact with Ben showed me he wasn’t as aloof as he seemed. I helped organize his stuff. "I’ll wake you when it’s time."

His eyes softened, just a little. I felt a strange warmth in my chest.

He tried to stop me. "We organize our desks the same way."

It sounded like flirting, and my hand froze. His face flushed. "I didn’t mean it like that…"

I caught the embarrassment flicker across his face. It was almost endearing.

"I know. I trust you."

I let my words linger, hoping he’d hear the truth in them.

Ben said nothing more. I didn’t realize then how much those words meant to him.

I tucked that moment away, not realizing how much it would matter later.

Mr. Grant didn’t punish Ben. Chloe came back crying, and with her sobs in the background, I enjoyed my first evening self-study after being reborn. Reciting lines from "The Raven" felt especially fitting.

The words rolled off my tongue, dark and dreamy. Nevermore, I thought. Never again would I let myself be broken.