Chapter 2

A few days later, the weird head-voices had mostly faded. I hoped it was a one-time, burger-induced nightmare. Mom' s diner, "The Miller Spoon," was my sanctuary. The smell of coffee and frying bacon, the clatter of plates, Dad humming as he flipped pancakes – it was home. I was helping out, carrying a tray loaded with our famous "Sunrise Special" breakfast platters.

I was running late for school, juggling the tray and my backpack. Rounding the corner by the main entrance, I slammed right into someone. Hard.

Breakfast platters flew. Scrambled eggs, bacon, and syrupy pancakes splattered across a very expensive-looking letterman jacket.

Ethan Hayes' jacket.

"Oh my god, I am so, so sorry," I stammered, my face burning. My carefully packed lunch, intended to save money and avoid mystery meat, was now a mess on the school' s golden boy.

His face was unreadable. Before he could say anything, a high, disdainful voice cut in.

"Seriously, Ethan? You let this... diner girl... get her greasy spoon filth all over you?"

Brittany Clark, head cheerleader, Ethan' s childhood friend, and queen of mean, stood there, lip curled in disgust. She eyed the spilled food like it was toxic waste. "Honestly, Sarah, doesn' t your family make enough money from that greasy pit to afford a decent lunch bag? Or maybe teach you some coordination?"

Ethan just stood there. Silent. He didn' t defend me. He didn' t even look at Brittany. He just looked at his ruined jacket.

The silence was worse than Brittany' s words. The memory of his thoughts from the pep rally flooded back, vivid and sharp. Greasy diner. Clumsy. He thought it too.

I wanted the ground to swallow me. "I... I' ll pay for the cleaning," I mumbled, my voice barely a whisper. My hands were shaking. I felt small, insignificant. Like the dirt Brittany clearly thought I was.

Jess appeared at my side, a protective arm around my shoulder. "Lay off, Brittany," she said, her voice firm. "It was an accident."

Brittany just laughed, a cold, sharp sound. "An accident waiting to happen with someone like her." She looped her arm through Ethan' s. "Come on, E. Let's get away from the stench of cheap bacon."

They walked away, Ethan still silent.

I stared after them, tears stinging my eyes. Jess squeezed my shoulder. "Don't listen to her, Sarah. She's a witch."

But it wasn't just Brittany. It was Ethan' s silence. His passive agreement.

"Let's just go," I said, my voice thick. Jess helped me clean up the mess, her quiet support a small comfort in the overwhelming wave of shame.

That night, I buried myself in my chemistry textbook. Equations and formulas were safe. They didn' t judge. They didn' t have hidden, ugly thoughts. I would work harder. I would get out. That was the only way.