Oblivious to the comments and deaf to the whispers that still floated in the hallways, the days passed more easily than Tomás could have imagined. Isolating himself from the world had always been a simple task for him, but that day... something was different. The tension was palpable, like an electric current running through the air.
He had maintained a calculated distance from Sofía, without glances or words, just as they had agreed. Also from Anaís, whose hostility grew with an almost mathematical consistency, and from Sam, who no longer even pretended indifference: he simply ignored him, as if he were part of the school furniture. Sunny was the only one who remained the same, as if nothing had changed. Perhaps because in her world, chaos was the natural state.
During lunch break, Tomás was sitting alone, as usual, looking out the window. The gray winter sky hung over the school, heavy and silent, announcing rain. He loved cold days, but hated the idea of getting wet in his uniform. He frowned, annoyed in advance. He sighed. The constant murmur of students talking, running through the halls, banging doors, laughing, shouting—it all formed part of that daily chaos that, though predictable, made him uncomfortable.
He was thinking how ironic it was that everything remained the same, when internally everything seemed to be falling apart, when he noticed something out of the ordinary: an unusually large group of students began to gather at the back of the courtyard. He straightened in his seat, squinting to see better. Curiosity turned into a pang in his stomach when he recognized, among the commotion, Sunny and Samuel face to face.
"Shit," he muttered.
He stood up abruptly and hurried out of the room, almost running down the stairs. Other students were also heading in that direction, excited, muttering through nervous laughter that "they were fighting in the courtyard." He felt his heart pound in his chest.
When he arrived, he had to push his way through the huddled bodies, all hungry for drama. The atmosphere was charged. Then, the dry sound of a slap cut through the murmur like lightning.
"You're a vile traitor!" Sunny's voice, broken by rage, pierced his chest.
Pushing and shoving, he managed to break through just in time to see the scene: Samuel with a hand on his cheek, eyes blazing. Behind him, Anaís and her inseparable friends, all with smiles that oscillated between mockery and morbid curiosity. Sunny was trembling, beside herself, her cheeks flushed and her body taut like a string about to snap.
Tomás didn't need to understand. He just knew he had to get her out of there.
He approached decisively and took her arm firmly. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
She looked at him, surprised for an instant, as if she had just remembered he existed. But fury overcame her again. "Let go of me! This bastard is spreading rumors with those hags!"
"It's okay, let them. It's all lies. It's not worth it," he whispered, suppressing his anger, aware of all the stares.
Sunny raised her hand again, ready to deliver another slap, but Tomás held her with both hands, gently but firmly, and began to drag her away from the group.
"Don't stop me! I'm going to give them what they deserve! You too, bitches!" she yelled, turning her face towards Anaís's group as they moved away.
Laughter soon erupted, venomous, and Tomás felt his blood boil, but he didn't let go of Sunny. He knew that if he stopped now, everything would be even worse.
Tomás didn't release Sunny's arm until they were far enough from the commotion. They crossed the side hallway of the gym and entered the area where sports equipment was stored. It was a dusty, forgotten corner, to which no one paid attention, with peeling walls and a damp smell. There, sheltered from prying eyes, he finally let her go.
Sunny pulled free from his grasp with a sharp gesture, panting as if she had run a kilometer uphill. She put her hands to her face, furious, but also on the verge of breaking down.
"I can't believe it... I can't believe what they're saying!" she snapped, waving a hand in the air. "I heard them! Them... everyone. They were laughing, Tomás, they were laughing as if they knew something we didn't. As if it were true. As if you and she... as if you... as if you were a damn monster!"
Tomás remained silent. The echo of Sunny's words seemed to bounce off the peeling walls.
"They were saying she's in love with you," she continued, more agitated. "That's why you hit her, that's why she defended you. That the contest is just an excuse to keep seeing her! Can you believe it? And now everyone's repeating the same thing, as if they'd seen it with their own eyes. As if it were a novel they love to watch from the window!"
He took a step towards her. It hurt him to see her like this, in a state that wasn't pure rage, but a confused mixture of fear, helplessness, and misguided loyalty. He held her hands, first carefully, then firmly.
"Hey, Sunny... listen to me," he said in the softest voice he could muster. "I appreciate what you did out there, really... but you can't do this for me. Not like this."
"And what do you want me to do?! Stay silent while they say you slept with a teacher to enter a contest?"
"To take care of yourself. Not to get involved in this fire," he said, hugging her without asking permission. "You don't deserve to be suspended for defending me. Neither you nor I deserve that. And she... even less."
Sunny remained motionless in his arms for a few seconds. Then, little by little, her body relaxed. Her breathing trembled, as if she were holding back tears.
"I'm sorry... I just can't stand seeing how they talk about you. How they look at you. It's not fair!"
"No, it's not," he admitted, with a bitter smile. "But making a scene isn't going to shut them up. On the contrary, now they have more material."
The sound of hurried footsteps made them separate. An inspector, with a grave face, motioned for them to follow him without further words. They didn't need to ask where they were being taken.
The teachers' lounge had that strange mix of the solemn and the domestic. Piles of books, empty coffee cups, open folders... and, in the midst of it all, Sofía sitting behind the desk, her fingers intertwined and her gaze fixed on them.
She didn't raise her voice. It wasn't necessary.
"Do you want to explain to me what happened?" she asked, in a tone so calm it hurt more than a scream.
Tomás felt his stomach tighten. It wasn't anger in Sofía's eyes; it was disappointment. And that cut deeper than any punishment.
Sunny opened her mouth, but he spoke first. "It was my fault. I took her out of the classroom. I wanted to prevent everything from getting out of control. She was just trying to defend me."
Sofía pursed her lips. She looked first at him, then at Sunny, who hung her head, her eyes shining. "And what part of 'keep your distance' didn't you understand, Tomás?" she asked, her voice even lower. "Do you think this helps? Do you think it helps me?"
He swallowed. He had no answers. None that could change what had happened.
"Your manuscript matters to me, your talent matters to me," she continued, "but this... this cannot happen again. What is being said is already affecting me professionally. Now, in addition, I have a student hitting another on my behalf. What do you think the school is going to say?"
No one responded. The silence became a judgment.
"The administration is aware. They're going to call your guardians. And both of you will be under observation for the rest of the semester. Another incident... and you're out."
Tomás felt a chill down his spine. Not for himself, but for her. For Sofía. Because the image she had built in front of her colleagues, in front of the entire school, was beginning to crumble. All because of a story that no one truly knew. That they only imagined, distorted, reinvented.
"Can I still participate in the contest?" he finally asked.
Sofía nodded, almost wearily. "Yes. But we will only communicate by email. Is that clear?"
Tomás nodded. He said nothing more.
When they left the room, Sunny walked behind him, silently. She was no longer agitated. Just... tired. As if something had been taken from her without her realizing it. As if suddenly, defending the truth was no longer enough.