The bus shuddered as it pulled in, brakes screaming the same sharp note Tessa had heard at the stop. The doors folded open with a hiss, releasing warm air that smelled of fabric seats, deodorant sprayed too heavy, someone’s cheap perfume clinging stubbornly to the space.
Tessa stood as soon as the bus stopped.
Jolie was already halfway down the aisle, phone in her hand. Music burst out the second her foot hit the pavement — Friday I’m in Love, tinny and too loud — and she sang along without embarrassment, voice echoing off the concrete.
Amelia joined in, laughing, bracelets clinking as she spun once for no reason at all.
Tessa laughed too. It came easily, like stepping into something familiar. The noise wrapped around her, buoyant and warm, pushing away the tightness she’d been carrying since breakfast.
For a moment, it worked.
They spilled toward the gates together, loud and loose, their voices bouncing across the car park.
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Behind them, Skye stepped off the bus.
She paused at the bottom step.
Not because she was scared — just... waiting. Like she always did. Bag hugged tight to her chest, sleeves pulled down, eyes flicking between the crowd and Tessa’s back.
She took a step forward.
Then stopped again.
Tessa felt it before she saw it — that small, instinctive pull at the base of her spine. She glanced back.
Their eyes met.
Skye lifted her hand. Just a little. Not a wave. A question.
Tessa’s chest tightened.
She didn’t stop walking.
She flicked her fingers once, quick and sharp, like brushing something away.
Not now.
Skye froze. The hand dropped.
She nodded — even though Tessa hadn’t spoken — and turned toward the entrance, breaking into a short, awkward run as if speed might make her less noticeable.
Tessa looked away immediately.
“God, she moves like a startled rabbit,” Amelia said, not unkindly, just careless.
Jolie laughed. “Always in a hurry to disappear.”
Tessa smiled because she was supposed to. The expression felt thin on her face.
They crossed the car park toward the main block. Hawthorn Ridge rose ahead of them — beige brick, streaked windows, the hawk mascot painted on the wall with one wing faded more than the other. Kids clustered everywhere: by the bike racks, under the overhang, near the benches where the concrete stayed damp no matter how many dry days passed.
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Normal. Loud. Busy.
“Okay,” Amelia said, looping her arm through Tessa’s. “Tell us. Are you seeing Jamie tonight?”
Tessa shrugged. “Maybe.”
Jolie grinned. “That’s a yes.”
Tessa nudged her with her shoulder. “Shut up.”
They laughed, the sound carrying them forward.
For a second, Tessa let herself forget — the kitchen, the pause at Skye’s door, the way Skye had waited for permission to pour cereal.
Then Amelia slowed.
“Wait,” she said. “Aren’t you supposed to walk your... sister home?”
The word landed awkwardly, like something set down in the wrong place.
“Skye wants to be independent,” Tessa said quickly. Too quickly. “I’m letting her be.”
Jolie snorted. “By ditching her?”
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“She doesn’t need me glued to her all the time,” Tessa said. She tucked her hands into her jacket sleeves, pulling the cuffs down. “I’ll make something up later.”
Jolie tilted her head. “Easy. Say you’ve got revision. Parents eat that up.”
The idea slid into place too smoothly.
Tessa laughed and leaned in without thinking, pressing a quick kiss to Jolie’s cheek.
The moment hung — strange, exposed.
Then Tessa laughed again, louder, filling the space before anyone could say anything about it.
“Genius,” she said, brushing her hair back. “Absolute genius.”
Jolie smiled, a little startled, and didn’t comment.
A low murmur rippled through the car park.
Heads turned.
A long black limousine rolled in slowly, absurd against the cracked tarmac and bike racks. It stopped with deliberate precision.
The door opened.
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Lexi Kingsley stepped out.
White coat. Perfect curls. Sunglasses she didn’t need. She moved like the space belonged to her, and people adjusted without thinking — parting, watching, whispering.
Amelia groaned. “Of course.”
Lexi’s eyes scanned the crowd.
They landed on Tessa.
She smiled and crossed the pavement, her group trailing behind her like an afterthought.
“Tessa,” she said brightly. “Morning.”
“What do you want?” Tessa asked.
Lexi tilted her head. “Looking for Sam.”
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Tessa felt something harden in her chest.
“Why.”
“Oh.” Lexi shrugged. “I thought we could talk. Clear the air.”
Tessa laughed once, sharp. “About what?”
“Well.” Lexi smiled thinly. “Sam is—”
“Skye,” Tessa said, cutting in.
Lexi blinked, slow and deliberate.
“Right,” she said. “Him.”
The pause that followed was surgical.
“He’s still not a girl,” Lexi continued lightly. “Just... confused.”
Tessa’s fingers curled inside her sleeves.
“If you want to be friends,” she said, keeping her voice flat, “try not insulting her first.”
Lexi’s smile faltered — just a fraction.
“And I heard your family’s been busy,” Tessa added, before she could stop herself. “With your dad. And the maid.”
The air shifted.
Something passed over Lexi’s face — anger, humiliation — gone almost instantly.
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“Just tell her I’m looking for her,” Lexi said. “I want this sorted.”
She turned away, coat flaring as she walked back to her group.
Amelia exhaled. “Tess... what was that?”
Jolie whispered, “What are you gonna do?”
Tessa looked toward the entrance.
Skye was gone.
Already swallowed by the building.
“She can handle herself,” Tessa said. The words felt practised the moment they left her mouth.
“But she’s twelve,” Jolie said.
Tessa shrugged. “So were we.”
They moved with the crowd toward the doors.
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Behind them, the bus hissed again as it pulled away from the curb.
Tessa flinched — just slightly — and kept walking.
———
By lunchtime, Thursday had already worn Tessa thin.
Hawthorn Ridge always felt louder as the week dragged on, but Thursdays were the worst — everyone restless for a Friday that was close enough to taste and still too far away to touch. The canteen was packed tight, tables nudged closer than they should’ve been, the air thick with the smell of chips, warm plastic trays, and the curry the kitchen insisted on rotating back every few weeks no matter how many complaints it got.
Tessa sat squeezed between Amelia and Jolie at their usual table near the vending machines. Her pasta bake had congealed into something beige and rubbery, but she kept prodding at it with her fork anyway. Eating felt optional. Looking normal didn’t.
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“You’ve barely said a word,” Amelia said, nudging her knee. “That’s illegal behaviour for a Thursday.”
“I’m thinking,” Tessa muttered.
Jolie grinned. “About Jamie.”
Tessa kicked her shin under the table, harder than she meant to.
“Oi!” Jolie yelped, then laughed. “Violent much?”
For a second, the noise and familiarity almost worked. Almost.
Then something crashed across the room.
Not the light clatter of a dropped tray — this was heavier. Metal on tile. A chair tipping.
A sharp, panicked cry cut through the chatter.
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Heads turned in unison. A ripple went through the canteen, the way it always did — chairs scraping back, bodies shifting, kids standing on benches to see better. Phones were already out before anyone asked what happened.
Tessa frowned. “Is that—”
Another scream — sharp enough to cut through the room.
Higher.
Younger.
Skye.
The sound hit her like ice down her spine.
She was on her feet before she realised she’d moved, shoving the table back so hard it screeched. Amelia swore, Jolie grabbed her sleeve, but Tessa was already pushing into the crowd.
The heat of bodies pressed in on her — sweat, aftershave, tomato sauce. Elbows jabbed her ribs. Someone’s phone brushed her cheek as they leaned in to film.
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“Move—sorry—excuse me—”
She squeezed through a gap and stopped dead.
Skye was on her knees on the floor, half-curled around Ben Hartley. Ben’s glasses were twisted, one lens cracked, blood streaming from his nose in bright drops that splashed against the pale tiles. He was crying — quiet, broken little sounds he probably didn’t even realise were coming out.
Skye’s hands were shaking as she tried to pull him back, breath coming too fast, too shallow. Her sleeves were pushed up, her palms smeared red.
And looming over them—
Lexi Kingsley.
Her pristine white coat was streaked where it had scraped the floor. Lip gloss smeared. One blonde curl had come loose and stuck to her cheek with sweat. Her chest heaved — not with fear, but with fury she hadn’t bothered to hide.
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“I told you,” Lexi hissed, voice trembling, “to stay out of my—”
Skye moved.
It wasn’t graceful or planned. It was pure panic and instinct — a small fist swinging up from where she knelt, catching Lexi hard on the cheek.
The sound cracked through the canteen.
The room gasped.
Lexi staggered half a step, hand flying to her face. For one stunned second she looked shocked — not hurt, but humiliated.
Then her expression twisted.
Ben whimpered, curling inward. Skye shifted in front of him without thinking, shoulders squared even as her breath stuttered.
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Tessa tried to move.
Her feet didn’t.
Her legs felt locked, heavy, like the floor had swallowed them. Her throat tightened until breathing felt wrong. She could hear the crowd — shouting, laughing, chanting — but it all sounded distant, muffled, like she was underwater.
Lexi lunged.
She hit Skye’s upper arm hard enough to knock her sideways. Skye scrambled, slipped, and Lexi shoved her down again. Tile squealed under trainers.
Skye kicked out wildly, catching Lexi on the shin.
Lexi hissed and kicked back, brutal, efficient. The sound Skye made when the air left her chest was small and awful.
Someone yelled, “Bruv, she’s gonna knock her out!”
Someone else started chanting, “FIGHT! FIGHT!”
Phones lifted higher.
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Tessa forced herself forward, pushing into the mass of older kids, but it was like trying to shove through a wall. Hands grabbed her shoulders. Someone cursed at her. She couldn’t see properly anymore — just flashes of white coat, dark hair, red on the floor.
Skye swung again — desperate, messy — clipping Lexi’s ribs.
Lexi snarled.
She grabbed a fistful of Skye’s shirt, yanked her upright, and raised her hand.
Skye flinched.
Ben sobbed.
And something cold tore straight through Tessa’s chest—
“LEXINGTON KINGSLEY!”
The principal’s voice cut through the canteen like a blade.
Everything froze.
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Principal Harland stormed into the circle, heels striking the floor in sharp, furious beats. Students jumped back as if shocked.
Lexi dropped her hand instantly, chest still heaving.
“What,” Harland said, voice shaking with restrained rage, “do you think you are doing?”
Lexi opened her mouth. Shut it. Swallowed.
“Office. Now.”
It wasn’t shouted. It didn’t need to be.
Lexi shot one last venomous look at Skye, then spun and stalked away, coat flaring behind her. Harland followed, already barking instructions at stunned staff.
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Silence rippled outward.
“Mr Clarke,” Harland snapped over her shoulder, “take Skye Harper and Ben Hartley to the nurse immediately.”
Mr Clarke nodded too fast and knelt beside Ben. “Easy, mate. Up you get.”
Ben winced but let himself be helped. Blood smeared down his chin.
Skye pushed herself up, unsteady, chest still racing. Her eyes darted wildly — until they found Tessa.
They locked.
Skye’s breathing hitched, panic flooding her face.
Tessa inhaled slowly.
Deep.
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Deliberate.
Skye stared.
Tessa did it again.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Skye copied her, shaking. Once. Twice. A third time.
Her shoulders dropped a fraction.
Mr Clarke touched her arm. “Come on, Skye.”
Skye nodded and followed him, one hand still gripping Ben’s sleeve like she was afraid he’d vanish.
The crowd dissolved into whispers.
Tessa stood rooted where she was, pulse roaring in her ears.
Amelia touched her arm. “Tess... that was bad.”
Jolie’s voice was quiet. “Are you okay?”
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Tessa didn’t answer.
At her feet, something caught the light.
Pink glasses.
One arm bent.
A smear of blood on the lens.
Skye’s.
Tessa bent, picked them up. They were warm — too warm — and she shoved them into her pocket before she could think.
“I’m going to the nurse,” she said hoarsely.
Neither of her friends argued.
⸻
The corridor outside the canteen felt unreal — too quiet, too clean. Her footsteps echoed on the linoleum. The smell shifted from grease and food to disinfectant and dust.
As she passed the principal’s office, shouting burst through the half-open door.
“—COMPLETELY OUT OF LINE—”
“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA—”
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Tessa froze.
She’d never heard Harland shout like that.
Lexi’s voice broke through in frantic fragments — not smug, not sharp. Panicked. Pleading.
Another adult voice cut in — deeper, angrier. Then another.
A harsh scrape. Someone gasping.
Tessa swallowed and kept walking.
The nurse’s office door was open. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The room smelled of hand gel and paper towels.
Ben sat on a plastic chair, tissue pressed to his nose. Skye perched beside him on the exam bed, shoulders hunched, knees tucked in tight.
Her head snapped up when she saw Tessa.
“Tess?” Her voice was small. Fragile.
She slid off the bed and collided into Tessa, arms wrapping tight enough to knock the breath out of her.
“I’m sorry,” Skye choked. “Please don’t tell Mum— I didn’t mean— I just— Ben—”
“Skye,” Tessa said softly, surprising herself. “Breathe.”
Skye obeyed instantly, still shaking.
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“I was trying to be brave,” she whispered. “Like you.”
The words hurt more than anything else that day.
Ben cleared his throat. “She helped me,” he said quietly. “She ran in. Thank you.”
Skye smiled at him — shy, proud, young.
The nurse appeared, kind-eyed and tired. “Let me see that face, sweetheart.”
She cleaned the cut on Skye’s jaw. Skye flinched, sucking air through her teeth.
“Oh, stop it,” Tessa said automatically. “The jabs hurt worse.”
The nurse paused. “Vaccinations?” she asked, glancing at her notes. “Skye, with your asthma, you should’ve had your flu jab by now.”
Skye nodded. “It got delayed.”
“We’ll fast-track it,” the nurse said gently. “Especially this close to winter.”
Footsteps thundered outside.
Harland appeared in the doorway, anger drained into exhaustion.
“I’m sorry that you two had to go through this,what Lexi did was unacceptable,” he said. “But school policy still applies. Skye — you acted in self-defence, and you protected another student. That matters.”
Skye’s shoulders tensed.
“But you’ll have to serve after-school detention,” Harland continued. “One month, I’m sorry.”
The words landed heavy.
“And I’ll be calling your parents.”
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Skye nodded — because she always nodded.
Shouting erupted again down the corridor — Lexi sobbing, her parents shouting over her, staff trying to intervene.
Tessa placed the glasses gently on the table beside Skye.
“Your glasses,” she said.
Skye nodded. “Thanks.”
The noise outside rolled on, ugly and relentless.
Tessa stayed where she was, heart pounding, knowing one thing with painful clarity:
Skye had stepped forward.
The world had stepped on her.
And Tessa had been standing still.
——
The final bell snapped the day apart.
For a heartbeat, Hawthorn Ridge held itself together — then the doors burst open and students spilled out, flooding the steps and paths like pressure finally released. Backpacks knocked into hips, voices overlapped and cracked with laughter, shoes scraped against concrete still warm from the sun. The air smelled of cut grass, hot tarmac, and oil drifting from the chip van across the road.
Tessa moved with Jolie and Amelia through the crowd, letting herself be carried by it. Everything felt too fast. Too loud. Her ears still rang faintly — echoes of raised voices, of Harland shouting, of Lexi’s parents losing control in the corridor.
Mostly, of her own voice.
Her phone buzzed in her blazer pocket.
She slowed.
Didn’t need to look.
The screen lit anyway.
Mum
Her stomach clenched, hot and sudden.
Amelia made a small sympathetic sound. Jolie’s mouth flattened; she gave Tessa a look that said brace yourself.
Tessa answered before she could talk herself out of it.
“Hi, Mum—”
Mom didn’t pause to breathe.
“TESSA HARPER, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”
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The words tore through the speaker, raw and uneven, like they’d been scraping around Mom’s chest all afternoon waiting for a way out.
“Sam was in a fight — a fight — and you weren’t watching him, you weren’t there, you never help, and now he’s hurt because you couldn’t be bothered—”
Tessa flinched. The sound burned straight through her ear. A couple of students nearby slowed, eyes flicking over. Heat climbed her neck, sharp and humiliating.
“Mum, I—”
“You’re eighteen years old! You’re meant to have some sense! What were you doing all lunch? Laughing with your friends while your brother—”
“I’m not Skye’s babysitter!” The words burst out before she could stop them. “I’m not her parent! I can’t be everywhere—”
“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me—”
Something inside Tessa snapped.
“Just—” Her throat closed. “Just fuck off!”
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The space around her went wrong — that sharp hush where even noise seems to recoil.
She hung up before Linda could answer.
Her hands shook as she locked the phone, then powered it off and shoved it deep into her bag like it might bite her. Her chest felt tight, breath scraping shallow and useless.
Jolie whispered, “Christ, Tess...”
Amelia touched her arm. “Hey. You okay?”
Tessa nodded too fast. “Fine. I’m fine.”
She wasn’t. But she couldn’t fall apart here, not with half the school pouring past.
Warm hands slipped over her eyes.
She jolted — then relaxed as a familiar scent reached her. Mint gum. Cheap cologne.
Jamie.
He pulled his hands away slowly, smiling that crooked, effortless smile that always made her stomach dip. Dark hair sticking up at odd angles, tie missing, shirt half-untucked. He looked like he always did: like rules bent for him.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Saw you from the steps. You alright?”
Tessa exhaled. “Yeah. Just... Mum stuff.”
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His expression softened. He rested a hand on her shoulder — steady, claiming without seeming to be.
“That bad?” he murmured.
She nodded.
Behind them, Jolie nudged Amelia, and the two drifted away with exaggerated subtlety.
“We’ll text you!” Amelia called.
“Please don’t,” Tessa said weakly.
Jamie smiled. “Always do.”
He hesitated. “So... what actually happened today?”
Tessa stared at the ground, scuffing her shoe. “Skye got into a fight at lunch. With Lexi. Ben got hurt. Skye stepped in.”
Jamie blinked. “Your sister?”
“Yeah.”
His jaw tightened — just briefly. “She’s always in the middle of things, isn’t she?”
Tessa didn’t catch it. “She was trying to help.”
“Yeah,” he said. “That tracks.”
Jolie, a few steps away, slowed. Her head tilted slightly.
“She okay?” Jamie asked.
“She’s shaken,” Tessa said. “Detention. A month.”
“And Lexi?”
“Suspended. Maybe worse.”
Jamie let out a low whistle. “Damn.”
There was a beat too long before he added, “Girls like Lexi don’t forget stuff like that.”
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Tessa frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly, smiling again. “Just... people get weird when they’re embarrassed.”
Jolie’s eyes stayed on him now. Not accusing. Assessing.
Jamie shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. “So... tonight?”
Tessa’s heart squeezed. “Yeah. Tonight’s still on.”
“You sure?” he asked. “If your sister’s... like that—”
“She wants independence,” Tessa said, too fast. “She handled herself today.”
Jamie studied her. “Still. I don’t like the idea of you worrying about her when you’re with me.”
Jamie’s hand stayed on her shoulder a beat too long.
Jolie saw it. Her mouth tightened.
“It’ll be fine,” Tessa said. “I’ll see her during detention.”
Jamie leaned in, kissed just under her ear — familiar, possessive. “Seven,” he murmured. “Our spot.”
“Seven.”
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He melted back into the flow of students.
Tessa stood there, hand pressed flat to her chest, heart tripping over nerves and excitement and something she didn’t want to name.
Jolie watched Jamie go.
Then she looked at Tessa.
Really looked.
Behind them, the school windows caught the lowering sun, glass glowing amber and false.
And somewhere inside the building, a chair scraped against the floor.
Skye was still there.
Waiting.
⸻
The detention room hummed.
The ceiling lights were too bright, buzzing faintly like they were tired of being alive. The air smelled of floor cleaner and chalk dust, the radiator ticking softly as it struggled against the cooling afternoon.
Tessa stood in the doorway longer than she meant to, fingers gripping the frame. Her head still throbbed from Mum’s shouting. Her phone — dead and buried in her bag — felt like a weight pulling at her hip.
Skye sat near the window, knees bouncing fast enough to rattle the desk. Her glasses were back on, the pink frames slightly bent. She kept glancing toward the door, shoulders tight.
When she saw Tessa, something in her posture eased instantly.
“Tess?” she whispered.
The hope in it made Tessa’s chest ache.
“I’m not walking you home,” Tessa said.
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Flat. Immediate.
Skye froze.
The supervising teacher didn’t look up from his marking.
“What?” Skye breathed.
“I’ve got plans,” Tessa said, folding her arms like armour. “You can walk home after detention.”
Skye’s breath hitched. “But— but Lexi—”
“She’s suspended,” Tessa cut in. “She won’t still be hanging around.”
“You don’t know that,” Skye said, voice shaking. “You don’t know what she’ll do.”
“She’s gone,” Tessa snapped. “It’s fine.”
Skye pushed her chair back, the legs scraping loudly. The teacher glanced up, frowning.
“I’m scared,” Skye said. “I don’t want to walk home alone. Not tonight.”
For a second — just one — Tessa almost said okay.
Almost stepped forward.
Almost fixed it.
But Mum’s voice rang in her head. You never help. You never think.
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Jamie’s hands on her waist. The promise of being wanted.
And the anger — hot, ugly, defensive — surged up instead.
“You wanted to be independent,” Tessa snapped. “Fine. Walk.”
“Not like this!” Skye cried. “I almost got hurt today!”
“So what?” Tessa snapped. “I’m supposed to drop everything every time you’re scared?”
“Yes!” Skye shouted, tears spilling over. “Because I’m scared! Because— because nobody listens—”
“Oh my god,” Tessa dragged a hand through her hair. “I’m sick of it, okay? I’m sick of everything being my fault!”
The teacher cleared his throat. “Girls—”
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“Fuck off,” Tessa said without looking.
The teacher’s face tightened. “Ms Harper—”
“Please,” Skye whispered, shaking.
“You’re the only one who calls me Skye,” Skye said quietly. “You’re the only one who treats me like I’m actually me.”
The words landed like a blow.
“So why won’t you walk me home?”
Tessa’s throat burned.
“I can’t be everything for you,” she said, voice raw. “I deserve a life too.”
Skye went very still.
The teacher stood. “Ms Harper, leave. Now.”
Tessa backed toward the door, blinking hard.
“Tessa,” Skye whispered, so soft it barely reached her.
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Tessa didn’t turn around.
She couldn’t.
The door clicked shut behind her.
The corridor lights buzzed steadily overhead. Somewhere, a locker slammed.
Tessa walked away quickly, like distance might make it hurt less.
Like distance might undo what she’d just done.
It didn’t.
And it never would.
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and then Add to home screen.