You've got this, sweetheart.
She wrote that almost every day.
I wanted to believe her.
But at school, courage seemed like something other people could afford. Tessa had friends everywhere. Brianna had a reputation for being fearless. I had a worn backpack, a scholarship application in progress, and a mother who already worried about me enough.
So I told myself the bullying was temporary.
I told myself the teachers would notice.
I told myself that if I stayed calm, the girls would eventually get bored.
They did not.
A week before the milk incident, I found my science project crushed inside my locker. The display board had been folded in half, and the model I had spent three nights building was missing one of its pieces.
A small paper sat on top.
Try harder.
I knew the handwriting belonged to Tessa. Everyone did. But when I showed it to Mr. Alvarez, he only sighed and told me not to accuse anyone without proof.
"Maybe someone was playing a stupid prank," he said. "You should focus on finishing the project."
I stared at the broken model in my hands.
"Does it matter who did it?"
He looked uncomfortable.
"It matters that you keep your grades up."
That answer stayed with me.
Not because he was cruel. He was tired, distracted, and probably dealing with twenty problems before first period. But tired adults could still make a quiet student feel invisible.
By Friday, I had stopped reporting anything.
That seemed to make Tessa happier.
She began whispering whenever I walked into class. Brianna started standing behind my chair before the bell, close enough that I could feel her shadow across my notebook.
Neither of them touched me.