---
Chapter Six – Cracks in the Mask
By Wednesday, tension gripped the hallways like invisible barbed wire.
Harry could feel it before he even stepped into the building. Whispers swirled around him like smoke, thicker now, sharper. He had always been the target—whispers weren't new. But this time, they didn't just follow him. They followed Sophie, too.
She was catching heat just for being near him.
But Sophie didn't act like it bothered her.
She still walked beside him between classes, head high, curls bouncing with each confident step. She still laughed too loudly at her own jokes, still waved to people who didn't wave back. It was like she refused to dim herself to make anyone else comfortable.
Still, Harry noticed the way her shoulders stiffened after every sideways glance. The way she clenched her jaw when someone muttered something under their breath. She was hurting—but she wasn't running.
That scared him more than if she did.
It was just after third period when everything started to unravel.
Harry was at his locker, swapping out his books, when Mason's shadow appeared beside him. He knew it was Mason without looking—the smell of cologne and cheap gum gave him away.
"You think this is funny?" Mason's voice was low, sharp.
Harry didn't respond. He kept his eyes on his locker, fingers curling around the spine of a worn-out math textbook.
"You're dragging her down with you now?" Mason added. "You don't get to ruin someone else just because your life's crap."
Harry turned slowly, eyes meeting Mason's. There was no fire in his stare—just cold, worn-out steel.
"You don't get to talk about her," Harry said, voice quiet but steady.
"Oh, so you're protective now?" Mason scoffed. "That's cute. But it's not going to last. People like you don't get happy endings."
Students were starting to slow down around them, pretending to check their phones or fix their backpacks while watching the scene unfold.
Sophie turned the corner and stopped mid-step, her eyes locking on them instantly.
"What's going on?" she asked, voice calm but firm.
Mason didn't even flinch. "Just giving your new friend some advice."
Sophie stepped between them without hesitation. "You mean trying to intimidate him? That's funny, considering you used to hang off his every word two years ago."
Mason's smirk faded.
"I know people like you," Sophie continued. "You hide behind popularity because you're terrified someone might see who you really are underneath. You don't scare me, Mason."
"Keep talking like that," Mason snapped, "and you'll end up where he did."
Sophie smiled sweetly. "Good. Then maybe I'm in the right place."
Before Mason could respond, a voice broke through the air.
"That's enough."
Ms. Rivera, their literature teacher, stood nearby, arms crossed and eyes sharp behind her glasses. She wasn't the kind of teacher who raised her voice—she didn't need to. Her presence alone silenced the crowd.
"Is there a reason three of my students are creating a scene in the middle of the hallway?" she asked coolly.
"No, ma'am," Mason muttered, backing off.
Ms. Rivera's eyes landed on Sophie and Harry next. "Walk with me. Both of you."
They followed her down the hall, the crowd parting like waves around them. No one said a word.
She led them into her classroom, where the scent of old books and coffee filled the air. She motioned for them to sit.
"I'm not going to pretend I don't know what's going on," she said, voice softening. "But I'll tell you this—this school doesn't care about truth. It cares about noise. If you let them define your story, you'll spend your whole life apologizing for things you didn't do."
Harry looked up, surprised. Sophie was already nodding.
"You two may not realize it yet," Ms. Rivera added, "but you've started something. And people don't like change."
She gave them a small, knowing smile. "Don't stop. But don't lose yourself in the fire either."
After a few moments of silence, Sophie glanced sideways at Harry.
"Looks like we've got a rebellion on our hands."
Harry let out a quiet breath.
Maybe it was the tiniest smile.