Danielle leaned forward, ignoring the pain in her shoulder. The posts made her stomach clench. Can't wait to see the new girl take a hard fall today. Betting she won't last through halftime. Someone's about to learn her place.
All posted before her fall. Before the pyramid had even formed. They knew, she whispered. Noah nodded grimly. Not just knew.
They planned it. And they're already covering tracks. He clicked through more screenshots. These posts, they're vanishing from the forums. Someone's deleting evidence.
I've started keeping records, too. Danielle slid her phone across the table, showing Noah the photos she'd taken last night. The threatening note, her medical records, the bruises. Noah's jaw tightened as he scrolled through. This isn't just bullying.
It's coordinated harassment. He lowered his voice. The football program brings in millions. The Grayson family donated the new business building last year. Nobody wants to touch this.
I'm not nobody, Danielle said. The cafe was filling up. A group of students in letterman jackets entered, scanning tables. Danielle quickly gathered her things. I need to get to class.
Text me later. She hurried across campus, the morning sun warming her face, but doing nothing for the chill that had settled in her chest. When she reached her American literature classroom, students were already filing in, conversations dropping to whispers as she entered. Her usual seat in the third row was empty, but not clean. Someone had wrapped the chair in athletic tape, the kind used for sports injuries.
Red marker stains that looked like blood streaked across the desk surface. Professor Watkins glanced at the display, then quickly looked away, pretending not to see. He shuffled papers at the podium while students stared. Danielle stood still for 3 long seconds, then she walked to a different seat, sat down her bag, and opened her notebook as if nothing had happened. The 2-hour lecture crawled by.
When class ended, Professor Watkins called out to other students, but avoided eye contact with Danielle. By afternoon, her shoulder felt like it was on fire. She popped a pain pill before heading to cheer practice, knowing she couldn't perform, but required to attend. Sierra stood in the center of the gym, clipboard in hand. Danielle, you'll observe today.
But since you're here, you can help manage equipment. I have a doctor's note excusing me from lifting, Danielle said, holding up the paper. Sierra's smile was cold. It's just pom-poms and water bottles, unless you're too delicate for that, too. The other cheerleaders watched, uncomfortable but silent.