Chapter 4

I woke Mom immediately.

She read the message once.

Then again.

Her face went still.

Not scared.

Not at first.

Empty.

Like every nightmare she had fought to keep away from us had finally learned our address.

“Noah,” she whispered.

He was asleep in the living room because he said he did not want to be alone.

Mom checked on him anyway.

She touched his forehead.

Listened to his breathing.

Then came back to the kitchen and called Denise.

Denise answered on the second ring.

Her voice was rough with sleep.

“What happened?”

Mom sent the screenshots.

Silence.

Then Denise said, “Do not respond. Do not delete. I’m calling police and the school’s counsel.”

“Police?” I whispered.

Denise heard me.

“Yes, Lena. That is a threat against your brother.”

My stomach twisted.

I had been humiliated.

I had been angry.

But now fear entered a different room.

Noah.

Noah with his too-big backpack.

Noah who still slept with Dad’s old baseball cap under his pillow.

Noah who tried to act invisible because my fight had splashed onto him.

Mom sat beside me.

“This is not your fault.”

I hadn’t said anything.

She knew anyway.

By morning, two police officers came to our apartment.

One was kind.

Officer Morales.

The other looked bored until Denise arrived and began using words like “retaliation,” “minor victim,” “digital threat,” and “ongoing intimidation.”

Then he paid attention.

Westbridge closed my locker before we arrived.

Too late.

Students had already filmed it.

Red paint everywhere.

My books ruined.

A paper taped inside.

GO HOME.

Principal Harlan was not at school.

The assistant principal, Ms. Reede, met us in the office with a tight smile.

“Mr. Harlan is taking personal time.”

Denise replied, “How convenient.”

Ms. Reede pretended not to hear.

Madison was absent too.

So was Brielle.

So was Tasha.

But their absence did not erase their eyes.

Everyone stared when I walked down the hallway.

Some whispered.

Some smiled sympathetically.

Some looked excited, like they were watching a show and waiting for the next episode.

Then someone clapped.

Once.

I turned.

It was Mrs. Ruiz.

She stood near the cafeteria entrance, hands red from dishwater, eyes bright.

Then Mr. Bell clapped.

Then Ms. Grant.

Then a senior I barely knew.

The sound spread down the hallway.

Not everyone joined.

But enough.

I started crying before I reached my first class.

Noah walked beside me.

He whispered, “Does this mean we’re winning?”

I wiped my face.

“I don’t know.”

He nodded seriously.

“Feels better than losing.”

At lunch, no one poured anything on me.

Small victory.

But halfway through the period, my phone buzzed again.

Another unknown number.

This time, a video.

It showed our apartment door from the hallway.

Someone had filmed it during the night.

The camera zoomed in on the number.

4B.

Then the video ended.

My hands went numb.

I stood so fast my chair fell.

Noah looked up.

“What?”

I showed Mom, Denise, and Officer Morales within minutes.

By 2 p.m., we were told not to return home.

A threat assessment was opened.

Police placed a patrol near our building.

Denise arranged for us to stay at a secure hotel through a victims’ assistance program.

Mom packed in twenty minutes.

Dad’s photo.

Medication.

Documents.

Noah’s cap.

My laptop.

Two uniforms.

Noah stood in our doorway, looking at everything we could not take.

“Are we moving?”

Mom knelt.

“Just for now.”

“Because of me?”

“No,” I said.

He looked at me.

“Because of Madison?”

Mom’s jaw tightened.

“Because some people are afraid of the truth.”

At the hotel, I finally broke.

Not in front of Denise.

Not in front of Mom.

In the bathroom.

I sat on the closed toilet lid and shook silently until my ribs hurt.

Then my phone rang.

Unknown.

I almost didn’t answer.

Something made me.

A girl whispered, “Lena?”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Brielle.”

I stood.

“Why are you calling me?”

She was crying.

“I didn’t send those messages.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

“I know who did.”

My breath stopped.

“Who?”

She sobbed.

“Tasha.”

“Tasha painted my locker?”

“No. Madison’s cousin Claire did. Tasha filmed your apartment.”

The room tilted.

“How did she know where I live?”

Brielle was silent.

“Brielle.”

“Madison got it from the scholarship file.”

My hand tightened around the phone.

Private records.

My address.

Noah’s information.

Mom’s workplace.

All of it in the file.

All of it accessible to the girl whose family wanted me gone.

Brielle whispered, “There’s more.”

“What?”

“Madison’s dad is meeting Harlan tonight. At the Vale Foundation office. My mom is catering it. I heard them say they’re going to make this disappear.”

My heart pounded.

“Why are you telling me?”

She cried harder.

“Because when Madison poured the ink, everyone laughed. And I laughed too. Then your brother looked like someone had hit him.”

Her voice broke.

“I have a little brother.”

I closed my eyes.

“Send everything to Denise.”

“I’m scared.”

“Me too.”

She was quiet.

Then she said, “Okay.”

When I left the bathroom, Mom saw my face.

“What happened?”

I looked at her.

“We know who threatened Noah.”

Her face hardened.

“And now?”

I thought about Madison’s smile.

Harlan’s warning.

Senator Vale’s statement.

My ruined blazer.

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Noah’s fear.

“Now,” I said, “we stop defending ourselves.”