Chapter 2 — Clash of Titans
Layla
The fluorescent hallway lights buzzed overhead, their hum faint yet persistent, like a soundtrack for the unfolding drama a few lockers down. Sarah was cornered—literally—her petite frame wedged between the lockers and Ashley’s entourage, their designer bags dangling like weapons of mass intimidation. Ashley, of course, was front and center, her gold star earrings swaying as she tilted her head, the picture of casual superiority.
“Aw, come on, Sarah.” Ashley’s voice was syrupy enough to rot teeth. “It’s just a joke. Don’t be so sensitive.”
“No,” Sarah shot back, her voice steady but tight. Her freckles stood out starkly against her flushed skin, and I could see the tension in her clenched fists. “It’s not a joke when you’re the only one laughing.”
Ashley’s smirk sharpened, and she leaned casually against the locker as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “Relax, it’s not like anyone actually cares about that poem you read in English. It was—what’s the word?—forgettable.”
I saw Sarah’s hand twitch toward her bag, like she wanted to grab it and run, but she held her ground. Barely. Ashley’s entourage glanced at one another, their silence a testament to their unspoken allegiance. Around the hallway, other students watched through brief, darting glances, as if curious but unwilling to get involved. Typical. I scanned the scene and let out a slow breath. Fine. If no one else was going to step up, that left me.
I slammed my locker shut with enough force to make Ashley’s minions flinch. “Wow,” I said, striding toward them, my sneakers squeaking faintly on the linoleum. “Did I miss the audition for Mean Girls: The Musical? Because this performance is, frankly, underwhelming.”
Ashley turned, her smirk faltering for a fraction of a second. “Layla,” she said, her tone dripping with mock delight. “What an unexpected surprise. Here to save the day with one of your infamous speeches?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, stopping just short of her personal space and crossing my arms. “I don’t waste my best material on filler acts.”
Her eyes narrowed, just slightly, and the tension in the air thickened. “We were just talking,” she said, her voice dropping into that practiced, honey-laced charm. “Not my fault Sarah can’t take a little honesty.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s exactly what this looks like,” I shot back. “Totally normal, friendly conversation. Definitely not you exercising your extensive vocabulary of four-syllable insults.”
Ashley’s entourage glanced at one another, their confidence visibly wavering. Even Ashley’s polished exterior showed a faint crack as she straightened, her arms crossing over her chest. “God, Layla, do you always have to make everything so dramatic?”
“Dramatic?” I echoed, my voice laced with faux astonishment. “You’re calling me dramatic? Ashley, you’re the human equivalent of a glitter bomb—shiny, loud, and mostly a nuisance.”
The tension in the hallway was palpable now, the silence punctuated only by the occasional shuffle of feet or the distant slam of a locker. Even Sarah, usually quick with a laugh or quip, stood frozen, her wide eyes darting between us like she couldn’t decide whether to intervene or grab a bucket of popcorn.
Ashley’s lips parted, no doubt ready to deliver some last-ditch zinger, but before she could get a word out, a new voice cut through the charged quiet.
“Okay, whoa. Let’s pump the brakes, ladies.”
Jace Ryder leaned against a nearby locker, his leather jacket slouched over his shoulders like he’d been born to wear it. His hair was its usual tousled mess, but his blue eyes were sharper than his laid-back tone implied. He sauntered over, hands in his pockets, and the casual confidence in his step was enough to make the hallway collectively hold its breath.
“Ryder,” Ashley said, her tone softening into something saccharine. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“Sure it does,” Jace replied easily, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I mean, I heard the word ‘dramatic,’ and I figured, hey, this is my scene.”
Ashley’s smile twitched, the sugary sweetness of her tone barely masking her irritation. “We were just leaving,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder with practiced indifference.
“Good call,” Jace said, his smirk widening. “I’d hate for you to stick around and accidentally say something memorable.”
Ashley hesitated, her entourage looking to her for guidance. After a beat, she shot me one last glare before strutting down the hallway, her heels clicking against the linoleum. Her entourage scurried after her, their departure leaving an almost tangible void in the charged atmosphere.
Sarah let out a shaky breath and sagged against the locker. “Thanks,” she muttered, her voice barely audible.
“Don’t thank me,” I said, keeping my gaze fixed on Ashley’s retreating figure. “Thank Mr. Hallway Hero over here.”
Jace grinned, the sharpness in his expression softening as he turned to Sarah. “You okay?”
The sincerity in his tone caught me off guard, and judging by Sarah’s reluctant nod, it hit her the same way. “Yeah,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I’m fine.”
“And you?” Jace’s gaze shifted to me, his smirk tinged with something almost playful. “You good?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked, my sarcasm automatic but lacking its usual bite.
“No reason,” he said, his grin widening. “See you around, Wood.”
He turned, the heels of his boots echoing as he walked away. I watched him go, a familiar flicker of irritation sparking in my chest—though whether it was at him or at myself, I couldn’t quite tell.
“You sure you’re okay?” I asked Sarah, my tone softer now.
She nodded, though her posture was still stiff. “Yeah. Let’s just go.”
---
The Coffee Corner was its usual blend of chaos and comfort. The espresso machine hissed and sputtered in the background, soft indie music played overhead, and the air smelled like cinnamon and something vaguely nutty. Our favorite corner booth, hidden near the back, was scratched with initials and doodles—a quiet rebellion against the shop’s otherwise cozy aesthetic.
“Okay, but seriously,” I said, stirring my latte with unnecessary vigor. “Does Ashley have, like, an insult generator app or something? Or does she just wake up every morning and think, ‘Who can I emotionally sucker punch today?’”
“You have to admit, she’s efficient,” Hollie said, leaning back in her chair with her usual dry humor. “Bet she’s got a spreadsheet. Color-coded. Cross-referenced by insecurity.”
Sarah laughed weakly, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug. The sound was quieter than usual, and I felt a pang of guilt for not noticing sooner how tired she looked. I nudged her gently. “Hey. Don’t let her get to you. She’s just mad because she peaked in middle school.”
“Thanks, Layla,” Sarah said, smiling faintly. “But it’s not just her. It’s... everything. School, family, life. It’s all just... a lot right now.”
Hollie and I exchanged a glance. “Well,” Hollie said, her voice unusually soft, “you’ve got us. And I’m not just saying that because Layla’s sarcasm takes some of the heat off me.”
“Ha, ha,” I deadpanned, though the corner of my mouth twitched.
Sarah chuckled—a real one this time—and for the first time all day, the knot in my chest began to loosen. I fiddled with my keychain under the table, the astronaut charm cool and steady in my palm. My fingers brushed against Sarah’s engraved tag—Stay Weird—and I felt something settle in me. Weird, I could do. Weird was safe.
---
By the time we left the coffee shop, the sun was dipping below the horizon, casting the town in golden light. We walked in silence, the kind that only years of friendship can make comfortable. As we passed the park, my thoughts drifted back to Jace—his teasing smirk, his easy confidence, the way his blue eyes softened when he looked at Sarah. Or me.
I shook the thought away as quickly as it came, but not quickly enough. “Layla,” Sarah said, her voice breaking through my reverie. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, forcing a grin. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous,” Hollie quipped, earning a laugh from all of us.
For the first time that day, the weight of everything didn’t feel so crushing.
