Friday finally arrived. I had been looking forward to spending the weekend with Braxton and Amanda. The three of us already made plans to hang out during the weekend.
After arriving early at Oliver West High School that morning, I met with them at the front entrance.
"Gabriana, girl, you make that uniform look GOOD. Look at how well it hugs those curves. As long as you can keep that nasty temper of yours under control, you should have nothing to worry about," Amanda said with a wink.
"Yeah, what she said," Braxton added, blushing a bit.
We all laughed, and I felt a little lighter. But I could tell, deep down, that something felt off as I pushed it out of my mind, though. After all, today was supposed to be a good day, right?
Amanda threw her arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. "Seriously, though, Gabby, you look amazing. Doesn't she, Braxton?
Braxton's eyes widened, and I watched a flush creep up his neck. He scratched the back of his head, suddenly very interested in his shoes. "Uh, yeah. I mean... You always look good. I mean…," He cleared his throat. "The uniform's nice."
"Oh my God, you're so awkward!" Amanda laughed, not unkindly. "Just say she looks hot and move on."
"Amanda!" I felt my own cheeks warming.
"What? It's true!" She grinned at Braxton, who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole despite his six-foot frame and athletic build. He might look like he could take on the world, but put him in front of a girl, and he turned into a stammering mess. It was actually kind of endearing.
"So, are we still on for this weekend?" Braxton asked, clearly desperate to change the subject. "Movie marathon at my place?"
"Absolutely," Amanda said. "Though I'm picking the movies this time. Last time you made us watch three hours of sci-fi nonsense."
"Star Wars is not nonsense," he protested, finally meeting my eyes with a small smile.
I couldn't help but smile back. These two were my anchors. Amanda, with her bold, say-anything personality, and Braxton with his quiet strength that only showed when you really needed it. They'd been there through everything: my dad's death, the Lucy and Jonah situation, the Chad and Rosemary disaster. They'd seen me at my worst and never left.
"You okay?" Amanda asked, her voice suddenly serious. "You seem... I don't know. Off."
I wanted to tell them about the knot in my stomach, about the sense of foreboding I couldn't shake. But I didn't want to ruin the moment. "Yeah, I'm good. Just tired."
Amanda didn't look convinced, but Braxton squeezed my shoulder briefly; his version of a hug. "We've got your back, Gabby. Whatever happens today."
If only I'd known how much I'd need them.
Shortly after, I walked away from them and headed toward the cafeteria, feeling the familiar nerves bubbling up inside. Something in my gut told me it was going to be one of those days. And sure enough, as soon as I walked in, I saw Tonya Malone and her two friends: Alexia McKenzie and Monica Malone. The same girls who had made my life a living nightmare previously at Dalton Junior High School.
"Well, if it isn't our old friend Gabriana," Tonya said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"How have you been, girl? It's been a while since we've seen you. You haven't written or even said hi to me since I've been here. What's up with that girl? While we are here, why don't you hand over your lunch money, and maybe we won't have to rearrange that pretty little face of yours!" She explained in her cold tone.
I tried to keep my cool, honestly.
"I don't want any trouble, Tonya, but if you keep threatening me, I will be forced to fight you!" I declared.
"Don't do it, Tonya. You're already on thin ice with the principal," said Alexia as she tried to pull Tonya away.
While Alexia was trying to talk Tonya out of fighting, Monica, Tonya's twin sister, walked away, and she looked like she had something nasty on her mind. I wasn't sure what she was planning, but I could feel the trouble emanating from her as she walked away.
"Yeah, you better walk away, Tonya, and don't you ever try to pick a fight with me again! If you do, I'll be forced to beat you and your little goons up!" I shouted, hoping to put an end to this fight.
Even as the words left my mouth, I knew right there that I'd made a mistake. That's the temper Amanda warned me about. The one that flares up whenever I'm feeling hurt, when I feel cornered, or even when I've had enough.
After everything that has happened this week, Chad and Rosemary, feeling invisible again, I felt that I had nothing left to lose. Or so I thought.
But of course, Monica wasn't done. After she walked off, she later returned with the principal's assistant, Amelia.
"You won't believe what Gabriana said," Monica hissed, her voice full of venom.
"She's been picking fights with us ever since junior high. You have to do something about it."
Amelia grabbed my arm with a firm grip.
"Don't worry about it, Monica. I still owe you and Tonya a favor for helping me get this position. I'll make sure this gets handled," she said with a smirk, practically dragging me toward the principal's office.
Once we got to the office, Amelia turned on the waterworks.
"Principal, I was so worried when I saw Gabriana trying to start a fight with Tonya Malone, the head cheerleader for Oliver West High School."
Amelia's voice took on an almost reverent tone as she spoke about Tonya.
"Principal, you have to understand what Tonya means to this school. She's not just the head cheerleader; she's the heart and soul of our student body."
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. My stomach turned as I watched the principal nod along, completely buying into Amelia's performance.
"Sir, do you remember when Tonya organized that fundraiser for the homeless shelter just last month?" Amelia continued, her voice dripping with false sweetness.
"She personally raised over three thousand dollars. And the blood drive? That was all her idea. She even donated herself, despite her fear of needles."
I wanted to scream. None of this was true, at least the way Amelia was spinning it. Tonya might have been involved in those things, but she'd made my life miserable for years.
"And the big game against the Wild Cats next Friday!" Amelia pressed on.
"Without Tonya leading the cheer squad, how can we expect the students to be excited? The team is counting on her energy, her spirit. If she's involved in another fight or gets suspended, it could devastate the entire student body! We could lose the championship because of this!" she declared as fake tears poured down her face as she desperately rubbed them away.
The principal leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He was buying every word she said.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Tonya, the girl who had tormented me for years, was somehow being painted as a saint, a victim who needed protection from me.
"Principal Bolton Tonya comes from a difficult home situation. You already know about her father and how he's had to work three jobs just to keep the family afloat. I can't forget about her mother, who is battling cancer. We mustn't forget that Tonya volunteers as a tutor for the kids at the same hospital where her mom receives her treatment," Amelia said, her voice taking on an emotional quality.
I felt a flicker of something; was it sympathy? But then I suddenly remembered all the times Tonya had cornered me in the hallway, all the cruel whispers, all the humiliation that I had to endure at her hands.
"This girl carries so much weight on her shoulders," Amelia continued, and I could swear that those tears in her eyes were almost real.
"The last thing she needs is to be targeted by students who are jealous of her success. It's not just about the energy she brings to her cheer squad. Tonya is a leader who has inspired countless students to be better, to aim higher. Her positive attitude, her enthusiasm, her kindness; these are the qualities that have made Oliver West High School a better place."
"We can't afford to lose someone as important, as genuinely sweet and caring as her. Not now, not when she's fighting desperately to keep everything, everyone together through these difficult times at the hands of Legion!"
My heart pounded as I tried to explain myself to the principal. The words barely came out. I was shaking, my voice quiet as I tried to recall everything Tonya and her friends had put me through—years of rumors, bullying, and torment. I wasn't the one who had started any of this, but he wouldn't listen to me.
I looked up at the principal's face, but his eyes were hard, his brow furrowed. I could see the disappointment in his eyes. As tears stung down my face, I fought to hold them back.
"I don't want to hear anything you have to say!" he snapped, his voice cold.
"You've been warned before about picking fights. And now you have the nerve to pick a fight with Tonya, the head cheerleader?" He practically spat the words at me.
"If she gets into another fight, it could cost us the entire game! Not to mention the student body! I can't allow that to happen!"
The words hit me like a slap. I was trying to hold it together, but I could feel my chest tightening, the tears threatening to spill out any moment. This wasn't right. I wasn't in the wrong, was I? Now I'm the one being punished.
"This is your second warning this month!" Mr. Bolton declared.
"If I catch you in my office again for any reason, I will suspend you for an entire week. Do I make myself clear?!"
His voice was loud, stern. I felt like I was drowning in it. All I could do was nod.
Standing there in that office, being yelled at for something I didn't do, I felt smaller than I've ever felt in my life. Smaller than when Chad chose Rosemary. Smaller than when Lucy stole Jonah.
This is what powerlessness feels like: when the truth doesn't matter, when your voice doesn't count, when the system protects the popular and crushes everyone else. And all I could think was: if I joined Legion as one of his disciples, I could be granted powers of my own, and people would have to listen to what I have to say.
After the meeting, I walked to my homeroom, feeling small, like the walls were closing in around me. I sat down across from Braxton and Amanda, the two people who meant the most to me. I need them now more than ever.
You won't believe what Monica did today!" The words tumbled out before I could stop them, my voice cracking on the last word.
Amanda's head snapped up, her eyes instantly alert. "What happened?"
"She—" I had to stop, take a breath. My hands were shaking. "She got Amelia to lie to the principal. Told him I started a fight with Tonya outside the cafeteria. And he believed her. He actually believed her over me."
"What?!" Amanda shot to her feet, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. Several students looked over, but she didn't care. "That's complete bull! You didn't start anything!"
Braxton hadn't moved, but his jaw was clenched tight, his hands balled into fists on the desk. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and dangerous in a way I'd never heard before. "Tell us exactly what happened. Everything."
So, I did. I told them about Tonya's threats, about standing up for myself, about Monica walking off and coming back with Amelia. About sitting in that office while Amelia painted Tonya as some kind of saint and me as the villain. About the principal's cold dismissal, his threat of suspension.
"And the worst part," I whispered, fighting back tears, "is that I'm the one being punished. Again. Just like with Chad, just like with Lucy, just like always. The truth doesn't matter. My voice doesn't matter. I'm just... nothing."
"Hey." Braxton reached across the aisle, his hand covering mine. "Don't say that. You're not nothing."
Amanda dropped back into her seat, leaning in close. "Gabby, listen to me. You're not nothing. You're one of the strongest people I know. Look at everything you've been through; losing your dad, all that drama with those jerks, and you're still here. Still standing."
"Barely," I muttered.
"But you are," Braxton insisted quietly. "That counts for something."
Amanda's expression shifted, that familiar fire sparking in her eyes. "You know what? We should go to the principal ourselves. Tell him what really happened. Braxton and I can back you up."
"It won't matter," I said, my voice flat. "He's already made up his mind. Tonya's the golden girl. I'm just... me."
"Then we tell your mom," Braxton suggested.
"She'll raise hell."
"And get me in more trouble? No. I can't." I pulled my hand away, wrapping my arms around myself.
"You guys don't understand. I'm so tired of being powerless. So tired of watching bad people win while I'm supposed to just... what? Turn the other cheek? Be patient? Be kind?" The bitterness in my voice surprised even me.
Amanda and Braxton exchanged a worried look.
"Gabriana—" Amanda started.
"What if I just fought back?" The words came out before I could stop them. "What if I stopped trying to be a good Christian girl and just... I don't know. Make them see me for once."
"That's not you," Braxton said firmly. "Don't let them turn you into something you're not."
"Maybe it IS me," I shot back. "Maybe I've just been pretending this whole time. Being the good Christian girl, the patient one, the one who forgives. And where has that gotten me? Nowhere. Invisible. Powerless."
"You're not invisible to us," Amanda said softly, and I could see genuine worry in her eyes now.
"Gabby, I know you're hurting. After Chad, after everything. But don't do something stupid because you're angry."
"If you want, we could take care of Monica for you," Amanda offered, though her tone had shifted; less aggressive, more protective. "Not like, fight her. But we could talk to her. Make her back off."
I wanted to say yes. I wanted them to fix this for me. But a darker part of me wanted to fix it myself. With my fists if I had to.
"I appreciate it, but I don't want you two getting in trouble because of me. You mean the world to me." I forced a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "I'll be fine. Really."
Braxton looked like he wanted to argue, but the morning announcements crackled to life, cutting off whatever he was going to say.
As the principal's voice filled the classroom, Amanda leaned over and whispered, "We're here, okay? Whatever happens. Don't forget that."
But I could already feel myself pulling away, slipping into a darker place where their kindness couldn't quite reach. A place where Mom's teachings about turning the other cheek felt like weakness, and the memory of Sunday's sermon felt distant and irrelevant.
A place where Legion's offer of power didn't seem quite so terrible.
We shared a quiet moment before the morning announcements came on. That was the end of that conversation, or at least that is what I had hoped.
When it was over, I made my way to first-period math with Ms. Marabell, but I might as well have been walking through fog. I couldn't focus. The numbers on the board blurred together, meaningless symbols that had nothing to do with the chaos in my head.
I kept replaying the principal's words. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say." As if my truth didn't matter. As if I didn't matter.
My eyes drifted to the clock. 9:47 AM. Three hours until lunch. Three hours until Monica would inevitably come for me.
Because she would. I knew she would. This wasn't over. It would never be over with the Malone sisters.
"Gabriana, can you solve for X?" Ms. Marabell's voice cut through my thoughts.
I blinked at the equation on the board. I hadn't heard a word she'd said. "I... I don't know."
"Pay attention, please." She moved on to another student.
But I couldn't pay attention. All I could think about was Monica's smirk as she walked away with Amelia. The way she'd set me up, knowing I'd get punished. The injustice of it burned in my chest like acid.
10:23 AM. Two hours and change. My stomach churned.
I tried to remember what Mom would say. Something about vengeance belonging to the Lord. Something about turning the other cheek. But all I could think was: I've already turned the other cheek. I've been turning it my whole life. And look where that's gotten me.
11:15 AM. Forty-five minutes.
The girl next to me asked to borrow a pencil. I handed it to her mechanically. Around me, people were living their normal lives, worried about homework and who was dating who and what they'd have for lunch. Meanwhile, I was counting down to an inevitable confrontation like it was an execution.
Maybe it was.
When the bell finally rang for lunch, I felt both relief and dread. I gathered my things slowly, my hands trembling slightly. Amanda and Braxton had a second lunch. I'd be alone. Vulnerable.
The hallway was crowded, loud with voices and slamming lockers. I moved through it like a ghost, separate from it all. Some part of me knew I should tell a teacher, should I go to the office, or do something to avoid what was coming.
But another part of me, the part that was tired of being powerless, tired of being the victim, wanted to face it head-on.
The cafeteria doors loomed ahead. I could turn around. Go hide in the library. Skip lunch altogether.
Instead, I pushed through the doors and found an empty table in the corner. Alone. Waiting.
I didn't have to wait long. I hated the feeling of being alone, but Braxton and Amanda didn't have first lunch with me, and I felt like the world was closing in.
That's when Monica walked in. Her eyes were narrowed, her fists clenched. She marched over to me like she had something to prove. All eyes in the cafeteria were on us as she towered over me.
"You think you're so tough?" Monica sneered.
"You think you can get away with seeking your friends on the Malone sisters, do you?" She sneered as she spat upon me.
I couldn't believe it. My hands balled into fists, and I stood up, ready for whatever she was about to throw at me.
"Well, you messed with the wrong person this time. You messed with the Malone sisters!" Monica said, as her voice echoed through the cafeteria, as everyone watched in stunned silence.
The cafeteria had gone eerily quiet. Every eye was on us, waiting to see what would happen next. Monica stood over me, her face twisted with rage, her fists clenched so tight her knuckles were white.
"Get up!" she hissed.
"Get up right now so that I can knock you back down!" she stated.
I wiped the spit from her off my face, feeling something inside me snap.
All the pain from this week; Chad, Rosemary, being invisible, being powerless; it all came flooding to the surface. As I stood up slowly, my chair scraped against the floor.
"You want to do this?!" I asked, my voice deadly calm.
"Fine, then let's do this right here!" I declared.
Someone in the crowd yelled, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" Others joined in, their voices rising in a chant. I could see people pulling out their phones, ready to record.
Monica didn't wait. She lunged at me, swinging wildly. I dodged the first punch, but the second one caught me across the cheek, sending stars exploding across my vision. The pain was sharp and immediate, but it also cleared my head.
Students scrambled backward, clearing a circle around us. Tables screeched as people pushed them aside. Trays clattered to the floor, food went flying, but no one cared. All eyes were now on the two of us.
I grabbed Monica's arm as she swung again, using her momentum to push her backward. She stumbled but didn't fall, coming at me again with renewed fury. We grappled, both of us fighting dirty; hair pulling, scratching, anything to get the upper hand.
"I've had it with your goody two-shoe act, and now I get the chance to end this!" Monica screamed, her face red and now covered in small bruises.
"You think you're tough, try it!" I shouted back, all reason gone, and now it was replaced with pure adrenaline.
The fight seemed to go on forever, but it was probably only five to ten minutes. Before long, we heard adult voices shouting.
"Break it up! Break it up right now!" Mr. Reynold shouted.
Hands grabbed at us from all sides. Coach Martinez and Mr. Reynolds, the gym teacher, physically pulled us apart.
"Release me right now, I still have a score to settle with her!" Monica yelled as she screamed, still trying to get at me even as they pulled us apart.
Strong hands clamped around my arms, yanking me backward. I fought against them on instinct, still wanting to get at Monica, still riding that wave of adrenaline and rage.
"Let me go!" I heard myself screaming, my voice raw and unfamiliar. "I'm not done!"
But I was. The adults had us now, Coach Martinez's iron grip on my left arm, another teacher I didn't recognize on my right. They hauled me backward, and suddenly I could see what I hadn't been able to see during the fight.
The cafeteria was destroyed. Tables overturned, food splattered across the floor and walls, broken dishes everywhere. My lunch tray was crushed underfoot, milk spreading in a white pool. Someone's entire meal had been knocked onto the floor, creating a mess of spaghetti and sauce that looked almost like blood.
And the students. Oh God, the students.
Everyone had their phones out—every single person. I could see the little red recording lights, dozens of them, all pointed at me. Some kids were already typing, probably posting to social media. Others were just staring, their expressions a mix of shock, excitement, and judgment.
That's when I saw them.
Amanda and Braxton, pushing through the crowd. Amanda's face was pale, her eyes wide with horror. Braxton looked stricken, like he'd just watched something die.
"Gabriana!" Amanda's voice cut through the noise. "What did you do?"
What did I do? The question hit me like a bucket of ice water. The adrenaline was starting to fade, and reality was crashing in.
I looked down at myself. My uniform was torn at the shoulder, hanging loose. There was blood on my hands; mine, Monica's, I couldn't tell. My knuckles were scraped raw and already swelling. I could feel my lip throbbing where it had split, and I tasted copper in my mouth.
A few feet away, Monica was also being restrained, still screaming obscenities. Her eye was swelling shut, turning purple before my eyes. Blood dripped from a cut above her eyebrow. She looked feral, destroyed.
I did that. I did that to her.
The realization hit me hard, and my stomach turned. This wasn't power. It was chaos. It was exactly what Amanda warned me about that morning. My temper finally let loose, tearing through everything in its path.
"Both of you to the principal's office, RIGHT NOW!" Coach Martinez barked.
As they started to drag us out, I caught Amanda's eye. She looked so disappointed. Not angry—disappointed. Somehow, that was worse.
"Don't say we didn't warn you," Braxton called out, his voice heavy with something that might have been sadness.
A girl from my English class shook her head, whispering to her friend loud enough for me to hear: "I can't believe Gabriana did that. She seemed so nice."
Past tense. Seemed.
My knuckles ached. My lip was bleeding. My uniform was ruined. And somewhere in the distance, I could hear Monica still yelling threats, still wanting blood.
But the worst part? The absolute worst part?
For those few minutes during the fight, I hadn't felt invisible. I hadn't felt powerless. People had seen me—really seen me—for the first time in forever.
And that terrified me more than any punishment the principal could give me.
As they dragged us out, my knuckles aching and my lip bleeding, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time: powerful. Not invisible. Not weak. Not the girl who gets rejected and pushed aside. For once, someone saw me; really saw me, even if it was in the worst possible way. And that terrifies me. Because part of me liked it. Part of me wanted more of this freedom. Is this who I'm becoming? Someone who finds strength in violence instead of in faith? Mom would be so disappointed in the choice that I had made today.
Later, sitting in the principal's office waiting for my mom to arrive, bloodied and bruised, I remembered another verse from Sunday's sermon: "For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms" (Ephesians 6:12).
My struggle wasn't supposed to be against Monica. It was supposed to be against the darkness itself. Against Legion and everything he represented.
But sitting there, feeling powerful for the first time in weeks, I couldn't help but think: maybe the darkness isn't the enemy. Maybe it's the only thing that's ever really seen me.
"Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong. Do everything in love" (1 Corinthians 16:13-14). That's what Pastor Ruben had said.
I'd been courageous. I'd been strong. But love? Love was what got me hurt in the first place. Love was what made Chad choose Rosemary. Love was what made me invisible.
"Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good" (Romans 12:21).
But what if good doesn't work? What if being good just makes you a target?
I thought about Legion. About his offer of power, of being seen, of mattering.
"Do not turn to the right or the left; keep your foot from evil" (Proverbs 4:27).
But I'd already turned. The moment my fist connected with Monica's face, I'd already chosen.
And the scariest part?
I'd do it again in a heartbeat.