"You wouldn't," he breathed.
"I transferred to this school specifically for you, Trent," Maya said, her voice dropping to a near whisper that only he could hear. "I spent the last three weeks watching you. Learning your schedule. Figuring out how you operate. I watched you shove freshmen into lockers. I watched you steal lunch money. I watched you walk around like you owned the world, while my brother flinches every time a car drives past our house too fast."
Trent's hand slowly lowered to his side. The realization was finally sinking in. The quiet new girl wasn't a victim. She was an executioner.
"Please," Trent whispered, his voice cracking. It was a sound no one in the school had ever heard from him. A plea. "Maya, please. Football is all I have. If Coach finds out... my dad will kill me. He'll throw me out of the house. I'll lose everything."
"Leo lost everything," Maya said, her expression hardening into stone. "And you didn't care. You laughed at him."
"I'll give the watch back!" Trent said frantically, his fingers fumbling with the metal clasp on his wrist. "Here. Take it. I'm sorry. I was stupid. Just... just delete the photo. Give me the letter. I'll leave you alone. I swear."
Maya watched him struggle with the clasp. For a brief second, she saw the terrified boy hiding underneath the letterman jacket. It would be so easy to take the watch, delete the photo, and walk away. She would have her revenge, and he would have his lesson.
But as she looked at him, she remembered the way he had slammed his hand against the locker just minutes ago. The cruel smirk. The absolute certainty that he could do whatever he wanted, to whoever he wanted, with zero consequences.
He wasn't sorry for what he did to her brother. He was only sorry he got caught.
"Keep the watch on for now," Maya said.
Trent stopped fumbling with the clasp, looking up at her in confusion. "What? Why?"
Maya didn't answer him. Instead, she looked past him, down the long corridor, toward the heavy wooden doors of the main office.
"Because," Maya said, her thumb pressing down firmly on her phone screen, "I want you to take it off in front of an audience."
A soft, electronic swoosh sounded from Maya's phone.
A split second later, a digital chime echoed from Brody's pocket. Then another chime from the girl standing next to the lockers. Then three more.