Chapter 3: Cracks in the Class President

She met my gaze, then whipped out her phone, ready to play her trump card.

"How about this? You sign up now, and once it’s approved, we can go whenever. It won’t mess with your schedule, I promise."

"Maddie, I saw you feeding the stray cats behind the gym yesterday. You’re such a sweetheart."

"You probably don’t know, but many of the kids at this group home have disabilities. A lot of families pass them over. They’ve never had a real family, and they’re still missing out on love."

"You care so much for animals—surely you’d care even more for these kids, right? Or is it just the cats that matter to you?"

Jamie’s voice dripped with fake warmth, every word a trap. I turned to answer, but she shoved a photo of babies with disabilities in my face, the screen inches from my nose.

"Maddie, look at them. Doesn’t it break your heart? How could you turn down kids like these?"

Jamie’s eyes sparkled, a little too bright, as she waited for me to crack.

"I heard from Noah that you were adopted, left as a baby and raised by your grandpa at the scrapyard. Don’t you feel a connection? You’re just like them—you both know what it’s like to need a family."

A dull ache hit me right in the gut. My background was always the thing that made me flinch, the wound I tried to hide.

Noah and I had grown up side by side. He’d always had my back, and one night I’d trusted him enough to tell him my secret.

He’d promised to keep it, forever.

But now Jamie knew, tossing it out like gossip at lunch.

I was stung, furious, my hands curling into fists.

Jamie was a pro at wrapping barbs in velvet. She knew exactly how to use my compassion against me, twisting the knife with a smile.

Seeing me pause, she grabbed my hand, feigning excitement:

"And, just between us, I heard from the counselor that volunteering racks up extra community service hours."

Like that mattered in senior year. If I let myself get played again, I’d only have myself to blame.

I knocked her phone aside, flashed a grin, and met her eyes.

"I’m not going."

"Did I stutter? If you’re not listening, maybe get your ears checked. Stop asking—a broken record’s less annoying than this."

Right then, Zoe Kim came back from lunch and walked in. She caught me standing up to the class president and her face lit up, voice going sharp:

"Maddie, what’s your problem? Why are you snapping at Jamie?"

"She’s offering you a shot at community service hours and you act like she insulted you. You really don’t know a good thing when it’s handed to you!"

Zoe was always eager to play Jamie’s sidekick.