That message left me speechless, but I remembered Zack's words: "These people aren't worth your tears." It gave me courage. And then I remembered—Heather was coming this week.
Suddenly, for the first time in a long while, I felt hungry.
I used to eat with my family, including my father, but ever since he passed, I had stopped. Whenever hunger struck, I just ate leftovers.
It wasn't that my mother didn't prepare meals—she always left a plate for me.
Lost in thought, I walked downstairs into the kitchen.
The smell of the food my mother had prepared drew me in. I took a plate and ate it all.
After finishing, I went to my room, closed the door gently, and began studying for my upcoming exam.
Later, I went to sleep, but unlike before, I slept peacefully—not worrying about waking up, not fearing accidental death—but hoping I would live.
THE NEXT DAY
I woke before my alarm and turned it off with a sense of hope. I brushed my teeth, got ready for school, and sat at the dining table with my grandmother.
I could sense that my mother, Ester, was in a good mood—perhaps she noticed I had eaten dinner last night.
She handed me a plate piled with five waffles. "Here's your favorite breakfast, waffles," she said, happily.
"But Mom, I can't eat five waffles; my maximum is three," I said, even though I could eat all five.
"Don't lie to me, darling. Did you really think I didn't notice you finishing a full plate of vegetable salad last night?" she said with a smirk.
"But Mom, I was hungry, okay?"
Grandma interrupted with a wink: "Looks like the new boy Zack is helping your daughter eat her dinner."
Mom smiled. "Well, when will I get to see Mr. Just-a-new-student, Jane?"
I blushed. "Mom, stop it. He's just being nice to me."
Grandma laughed. "Everything starts by being nice to each other."
"Stop it, Grandma," I said, finishing breakfast. I went outside.
Strangely, Grandma didn't show any suspicion about Zack this time—maybe she was thinking of something else.
The sky was clear and blue, unlike yesterday.
Suddenly, a black BMW stopped beside me. My body froze, shaking.
The window rolled down, revealing Zack wearing black sunglasses. He scared me half to death.
"Need a ride to school, Jane?" he asked casually.
Anger surged. "Seriously, Zack? Take off the glasses—you look like a kidnapper!"
He lowered them and gave a look that said, "I can't believe I'm offering this," rolling his eyes. "So, are you coming or not?"
Without thinking, I blurted, "No."
His face darkened into a frown. "Okay… see you at school," he said and drove away.
I didn't know why I had rejected him so harshly. Why did he offer a ride? We had just met yesterday. Maybe he was more than a transferred student to me. I needed to apologize.
Rushing to school, I noticed everyone staring at me with disgust, as if I were shameful.
These people always acted like that. I never asked for attention, yet they called me an attention seeker.
Walking down the hall, I opened my locker, took my English notes, and left unwanted papers behind. I overheard someone begging: "Please, I beg you, don't post my picture online."
Luke, bullying as usual, was taking pictures. I saw Zack walking to class, hair perfectly in place, moving with a regal presence.
"ZACK!!!" I shouted, hoping he'd turn, but he didn't. I shouted again, louder this time: "ZACCK!"
I tripped over my own leg, falling to the floor. Notes, books, and pens scattered.
I expected help, but everyone laughed.
Luke laughed loudest: "GOLD DIGGER CAUGHT FALLING DOWN!" He took a picture.
Then added, "Bite the dust while searching for the meaning of life."
No one stopped him; instead, they joined in mocking me.
Zack saw this and tried to help, but the crowd blocked him. I was humiliated. I tried holding back tears, but they flowed freely. Their words cut like swords.
Mr. Peterson appeared. "Why is everyone standing here? Go to your classes!"
The crowd dispersed. Luke whispered,
"Don't worry—your life will get worse."
I picked up my notes. Someone helped me—I expected Zack, but it was Victor.
Victor was mysterious: neither quiet nor talkative, speaking only when necessary. He appeared suddenly, like on sports day, always watching, always reading people. His father was a lawyer.
He handed me my notes. "Next time, watch your steps," he said faintly, smiling. I ignored him, still humiliated.
Zack arrived, his reaction pure shock, frozen as if struck by lightning. I sensed tension between them. Words like "escape," "protection," and "kill…" floated in hushed tones.
I didn't listen. My humiliation was all I could feel. I gave Zack my bag and rushed to the bathroom, slamming the door, pressing a handkerchief to my mouth, and crying as if the sky had opened above.
Just when hope seemed possible… it shattered.
WHY? WHY? Why me?
I reached into my pocket and clutched the teddy bear keychain Dad had given me—the one that whispered, "Love yourself, Jane."
I held it tightly. My breathing steadied. I remembered his calm, steady voice: "If someone mocks you, don't answer with words. Disrespect them with your actions."
I had to return to class. I couldn't let anyone see me cry—especially Zack. They'd call me an attention seeker.
I wiped my tears, washed my face, and walked to class