Toxic Lessons: The Genius I Left Behind

Seven years after our messy breakup, a TikTok blew up. My former high school teacher smirked at the camera.

She bragged about sabotaging a teen romance, claiming she "saved" a boy genius from a massive red flag. Late that night, my phone flashed. Knox. "I swear I knew nothing about it...

Sage, I refuse to let us end like this." I stared at the ceiling and kept my mouth shut. Regret happens.

Chapter 1 [How I saved a genius from his high school girlfriend.] The bold text hovered over a terribly familiar face.

My thumb froze on the screen. [Seven years ago, I took over a senior AP class. Had this ridiculously handsome kid. Total math prodigy. But his girlfriend? Totally average.

Flunking everything.] [I didn't just tell them to break up. That never works.] [I played the long game. Manipulated the situation.

Made him realize his own worth and exactly how much she dragged him down. Got him to dump her himself!] [He got into MIT, then an Ivy for grad school. Now?

Youngest partner at a massive tech firm.] [And her? Probably settled down and popped out a few kids by now. They seriously owe me.] [Look what I kept all these years.

She acted so incredibly clingy. Total red flag…] Leighton giggled and dumped a dusty cardboard box onto her desk.

Faded love letters, confiscated burner phones, Polaroid photobooth strips. The video had already racked up hundreds of thousands of likes.

The comment section was praising her for being smart and pretty, mocking the girl's wishful thinking, and celebrating the guy's lucky escape.

Only one new comment broke the echo chamber. [Sounds like you just hated women and wanted male validation.

If that couple knew the truth, they would probably hate you.] The subway lurched to a halt.

I was pushed outward by the crowd, and when I stopped to look again, the comment had disappeared. A hollow laugh scraped my throat. I locked my phone and shoved it into my pocket.

I am that scheming, average girl. Knox and I cut all ties after that year. I never made it to college. The depression dragged me entirely under.

Endless white walls in psychiatric wards, staring at the ceiling until my eyes burned. Only recently did the fog finally lift. I don't know if Knox hates her.

But my own agonizing grief faded a long time ago, faded right alongside the jagged, raised scars on my wrists.

Years ago, his small fingers had gripped the hem of my shirt, begging me not to leave. His father, Alistair, packed his bags for a younger woman, abandoning the family entirely.

When his mother, Vera, finally broke under the betrayal and jumped off the interstate bridge, Knox's entire world shattered into a million pieces. My parents stepped in.

My parents brought him into our home, pushed a warm plate of food in front of him, and told me to look after him. I reached out and intertwined my fingers with his.

Day in and day out, all year round, we were virtually inseparable. I was the only warmth in his dark, shattered world. Knox excelled at everything. Flawless grades, perfect face.

I hovered right in the middle, scraped by on tests, never turned any heads in the hallway. But the gap between us never mattered. We grew up tangled together.

He starred in every single memory I possessed, my future completely mapped out with his name etched into it. Until Leighton walked into our senior year.

Leighton flashed her Ivy League degree and a dazzling smile. Young, gorgeous, instantly worshipped by the entire senior class.

She bought iced lattes for the girls and played Call of Duty with the boys. Then, she bent the school rules.

She yanked me out of standard math and dropped me right into the AP Honors track, right into the empty desk beside Knox. "Just keeping a close eye on you two," she teased, winking at the class. "Figured I'd deliver his girlfriend right to him.

Study hard, lovebirds. Invite me to the wedding!" She dragged our quiet, careful teenage romance directly into the brutal spotlight. Heat exploded across my cheeks.

Knox's ears burned crimson. Beneath the scratched surface of the desk, his hand found mine. His fingers tangled with mine, squeezing tight.

Chapter 2 The AP Honors curriculum actively crushed me. I barely kept my head above water, surviving only because Knox shadowed my every assignment. Then midterms hit.

Knox plummeted from the top five straight down to thirtieth.

Leighton rushed into the classroom, radiating a feverish heat, entirely focused on consoling him. "One bad grade means absolutely nothing!

Ignore what the other teachers are whispering," she cooed, her hand resting a little too close to his. "Tutoring your girlfriend definitely didn't ruin your focus, okay?" Knox's jaw ticked.

He never scored below a ninetyfive in AP Calc. His pride shattered. He slammed the test onto her desk and stormed out of the room. I lingered behind.

A massive miscalculation on a freeresponse question—she graded it wrong. I grabbed the test and chased her down the hallway into her office.

The sweet, bubbly facade instantly evaporated. Her eyes turned dead and cold. "What exactly did you score?

And you have the nerve to question my grading?" Her voice dropped to a venomous hiss. "Dressing up like a cheap distraction to hook a boy.

You refuse to study, and now you're dragging him down into the dirt with you." Leighton's venomous sneer made her look like an entirely different person.

I stumbled out of her office. But Knox? He flatout refused to believe a single word I said. "Leighton? Cursing at you?" He let out a harsh laugh. "She's completely harmless.

She literally just smiles when people walk all over her. You definitely misheard." Tears blurred my vision. I desperately tried to explain.

The door swung open, and Leighton stumbled inside.

Her cheeks were flushed red, and she trembled as she returned the test to Knox. "I fixed the grading error," she gasped out. "I'll notify Mr.

Henderson to adjust the official rankings immediately. Don't worry." Knox frowned. He didn't even glance at the paper.

He asked if she had taken her medication, actually worried about her working through a fever to fix his score. Leighton bit her lower lip.

She shook her head weakly, then her wide, innocent eyes locked onto mine. "Sage, I know you're stressed about his grades," she whispered, her voice breaking. "But next time… please don't knock my things out of my hands.

And please don't call me a bitch. We can just talk, okay?" Her knees buckled. She collapsed right in front of his desk. Knox lunged forward and caught her.

My mind went blank with a loud buzz. I stood frozen in place, forgetting even to defend myself. How could she fabricate something so twisted?

Leighton had painted a massive target on my back, and the entire class knew it. What I couldn't comprehend was how Knox remained totally oblivious to it.

Every time she read the test scores aloud, she saved my name for the absolute last, making sure the entire room heard it, even though I wasn't at the bottom of the class.

When my grades actually improved, she smirked and loudly joked about me cheating.

When I buried my face in a textbook, she snatched it away. "Stop pretending to read, Sage." If the whole class got penalized for a mistake, she excluded me.

She constantly "forgot" to hand me worksheets, then refused to accept my late homework the next day. She orchestrated my isolation until I became a total ghost.

Yet she'd flash that sickeningly sweet smile at Knox. "I take such good care of your girlfriend, don't I?

Even if she hates me, she really should let it go by now." After our millionth screaming match, the truth finally ripped out of Knox's throat. "I don't see her targeting you at all!

She isn't like you petty, toxic girls!" His eyes darkened with pure disgust. "Don't forget, Sage.

If she hadn't dragged you into AP Honors, you'd just be a pathetic bottomfeeder for the rest of your life!" I was at an age where I couldn't swallow even the slightest grievance, but after arguing with Knox countless times, I simply went numb.

I stopped reaching for his hand. I stopped tracking his moods. I locked my eyes on the whiteboard and focused entirely on surviving the curriculum.

If Leighton's master plan was to shatter us, she won. And honestly? I should probably thank her for handing me the ticket to change my own destiny.

Chapter 3 The distance between us finally snapped Knox awake. He constantly tried to bridge the gap, desperately searching for a way to apologize.

We sat on opposite sides of the classroom now.

When he couldn't catch my eye, my phone would buzz with texts flooding my screen, asking why I skipped breakfast or why I didn't wait by his locker after the final bell.

He even ditched AP prep just to buy me a red velvet cupcake, trying to buy back my smile. Leighton materialized at my desk, her lower lip stuck out in a fake pout.

She snatched my backup phone right off my notebook. "If you refuse to study, why drag a good boy down with you?" I didn't type a single word back to Knox.

I simply turned off the phone and handed it in. My focus locked entirely on the textbooks, and my test scores skyrocketed. Then the morning of the Mock AP Exams arrived.

Knox stormed into the testing room. The edges of his eyes burned a vicious red. He slammed a crumpled box of Trojans onto my desk. "Did Miles make it worth your while?

Is that how the valedictorian tutors you in bed? Really explains the sudden spike in your grades." I couldn't tell if I was suffocating from pure rage or total betrayal.

My entire body trembled, and the words simply died in my throat. Mr. Abbott shoved his way down the aisle, barking at Knox to leave the room.

I only remember the absolute disgust burning in Knox's eyes right as he was dragged out: "You're a real piece of work, Sage." My exam scores tanked.

My GPA plummeted, utterly destroying my class rank. Six months of grinding myself into dust meant absolutely nothing. I missed the AP cutoff.

They dragged me right back down to standard classes. The pieces finally clicked together in the dark. Leighton. She had my backup phone. She sent him something.

I possessed zero proof. At the exact same time, my parents' business completely collapsed. I buried the entire nightmare of what happened at school.

Adding to their crushing debt wasn't an option. I felt like a trash can stuffed full of negative emotions. The grief clogged my throat, but I couldn't shed a single tear.

The night I left the AP Honors class, I received a text from Knox breaking up with me. Walking across the parking lot, I froze.

I watched Knox's tall frame slowly approach Leighton until he finally buried his face right into her embrace.

Leighton's sickly sweet voice drifted through the humid air. "It's okay to let go.

You'll find someone so much better." Her fingers stroked his back. "A brilliant, flawless boy like you? Girls will literally line up for you.

Don't waste your life obsessing over a lost cause." Something feral snapped inside me.

I launched myself at them like a madwoman, tearing them apart before driving my palm across Leighton's cheek, screaming that she was a despicable homewrecker.

But the very next morning, reality crushed me. My exhausted parents rushed back from out of state.

They bent their spines in the principal's office, bowing, begging Leighton not to press charges or expel me. They looked utterly broken. Every single report I filed turned to ash.

No one listened. Because Knox took the stand for her.

Knox stared right at the principal and swore I attacked her out of nowhere, swore I constantly slandered her behind her back, and swore I planned the entire assault. "Sage is completely paranoid," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion. "She views any young, attractive teacher as a threat.

Ms. Leighton did absolutely nothing wrong." The final nail drove straight through the coffin. Years ago, his tiny fingers gripped my shirt, begging me to stay.

In the end, he pried my fingers off his life entirely and twisted the blade on his way out. He scrubbed me from his existence. New number. Purged socials.

Every single photo of us, wiped clean. We didn't cross paths again until Senior Picture Day. Our eyes locked across the crowded football field.

A heavy, suffocating second ticked by. We didn't share a classroom anymore. Our faces wouldn't even share the same page in the yearbook.

He pulled the DSLR camera away from Todd and marched straight toward me. "Want to grab one last picture?" he asked, his voice hollow. "Just to document that we actually knew each other.

I'm heading to Boston for college. We probably won't cross paths again." Chapter 4 That final photo never made it to my hands. I don't know where it was lost.

The insomnia leading up to the SATs had already hollowed out my skull. I didn't pull off a miracle score.

My SAT scores and GPA were barely enough for a lowtier state school, leaving me with exactly zero decent options. It played out exactly like a bad punchline. Bombed my academics.

Lost the boy I loved. I genuinely believed walking across that graduation stage meant a clean slate. I was dead wrong. Leighton wasn't finished with me yet.

College applications are a brutal game. Leighton played the gracious counselor, feeding Knox a curated list of elite programs, and he completely bought it.

Then, she passed her expert advice down to me, convincing me to gut my application list. That fall, every single acceptance letter bounced back as a rejection.

I had absolutely nowhere to go. Who was I supposed to scream at? I clicked the submit button myself. I could only blame my own lack of foresight and terrible luck.

Ultimately, I blamed myself for being a disappointment, for cracking under pressure, and for not scoring just a few points higher. Leighton certainly wasn't going to take the fall.

That was the exact moment the depression dug its claws into my chest. My parents swallowed the guilt.

They drove Uber backtoback night shifts all summer, desperately trying to scrape together enough cash for expensive private tutors so I could retake my SATs and reapply.

Then, at 3:00 AM, my phone buzzed. Officer Wallace's voice crackled through the receiver. A drunk driver. A shattered windshield. Calvin was dead on impact.

The sterile stench of the hospital waiting room clung to my clothes.

I remember the deafening silence, the blinding fluorescent lights, and the way my mother's knees gave out when the doctor shook his head. My spine snapped.

The final pillar holding up my sky completely collapsed. I gripped the cold porcelain of my father's urn.

My screen lit up with an unknown number. [He is going to have a brilliant, untouchable future. A massive career. A flawless, elegant wife.

He will never belong to a pathetic bottomfeeder like you.] An image loaded beneath the text. Knox. Fast asleep, his head resting heavily on Leighton's bare thighs.

A highend Tokyo hotel room. Matching silk robes. She tagged along on his graduation trip. Sylvia kept asking why Knox hadn't shown up to the funeral.

Calvin practically raised that boy. They were family. The night my dad got into the car accident, he had been rambling about buying Knox some local snacks for his flight to Boston.

How could he have just blocked me? I couldn't answer. My tears just kept flowing like a broken faucet. For years after that, I completely lost my mind.

Every day, I spaced out like a walking corpse, drifting between hysterical tears and hollow laughter.

The depression dragged me straight into the sterile white halls of a psychiatric ward. Later, while Sylvia was asleep, I ran to the overpass alone.

Below me was a steady stream of cars. One step forward, and the heavy, suffocating pain would finally end. A massive digital billboard flickered to life above the traffic.

An exclusive interview. Tech prodigy Knox.

He sat there in a tailored suit, looking every bit the untouchable golden boy, operating in a completely different stratosphere than a broken girl shivering on a bridge.

I stood in the wind for a long time. Eventually, the biting cold drove me back inside. I swallowed my pills. I forced myself to sleep.

I landed a stable barista gig at Naomi's coffee shop. I slowly stitched my pathetic, ruined life back together. The burning hatred for Leighton eventually burned itself out.

The crushing grief evaporated. Knox and I were just two parallel lines.

We crashed into each other for one brief, chaotic second before ripping apart to face our own separate realities. The morning espresso rush always drained the life out of me.

I usually slept like the dead. But right at midnight, my phone vibrated against the nightstand. An unknown number. It rang relentlessly until it dragged me out of my nightmare.

A rough, gravelly exhale scraped through the speaker. A sharp intake of breath. The unmistakable crack of a man holding back a sob. "Sage… you actually kept your number.

I had absolutely no idea what Leighton did to you." His voice shattered. "I can't just let us end like this.

I refuse to let you go." Chapter 5 I sat up in the dark, listening to his pathetic rambling in absolute silence.

Outside my window, the brutal, weeklong downpour had finally broken. Fresh green buds pushed through the splintered branches.

The mud hardened back into solid dirt, erasing every violent scar the storm left behind. Time stitches everything back together. The sky was completely clear now.

Shoving an umbrella into my hands at this point was just an insulting joke.

Seven years had entirely erased the boyish softness from his face, replacing it with a cold, calculated stillness. I wiped down the espresso machine.

Just a barista and a parttime pastry chef trying to survive the morning shift. My piping bag exploded earlier that morning.

The buttercream cookies came out deformed and jagged, leaving a massive tray of ugly rejects on the counter. Knox bought every single one of them.

He claimed a quiet table in the back corner of the cafe. He carefully broke off small pieces, chewing them slowly, treating the ruined pastries like they were pure gold.

Thirty minutes ticked by. I swallowed my antidepressants and stepped out from the breakroom. Knox immediately stood up.

He flashed a brilliant, perfectly manufactured smile, playing the part of a surprised old friend. "Sage.

It's been a while." His deep voice vibrated with forced casualness. "Crazy coincidence. My firm just relocated to this block. I'll have Skylar reach out to you later.

I want this shop catering all our corporate events. Your baking still tastes incredible." A vicious wave of pure nausea hit the back of my throat.

I marched right up to his table, stabbing my finger inches from his face. "Cut the bullshit, Knox." My voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "You used to look at my food like it was radioactive.

You literally threw it in the trash." In an instant, all of Knox's smiles froze on his face. The memories hit me like physical blows.

After Vera had died, Alistair had completely vanished. He had claimed he would pay child support, but his checks never arrived. Knox was left with absolutely nothing.

I sat next to him in study hall and heard his empty stomach growling. Calvin and Sylvia immediately doubled our dinner portions.

Late at night, when Calvin came home from his business dinners, he'd fry up extra hot meals just to keep Knox fed while he studied.

But Knox's massive ego refused to take any more charity. So, I started lying. I faked intense sugar cravings.

I baked heavy, caloriedense cookies and thick cupcakes, dragging them to school just so I could force half of them into his hands.

On the mornings I overslept, I violently smashed together messy breakfast wraps. I wasn't some delicate, aesthetic baker.

I cracked extra eggs into the batter, stuffed the foil until it burst, and cared about keeping him full, completely ignoring how chaotic the food actually looked.

It looked bad enough for Leighton to publicly humiliate me. "Oh my god!

Sage actually made this disgusting, lumpy mess?" Leighton's highpitched voice echoed through the teacher's lounge. "Does she even have a single feminine bone in her body?" She let out a cruel, tinkling laugh. "I guess it perfectly matches her sloppy, careless personality.

Look at her calc scores.

She loses points on the easiest formulas." Leighton leaned closer to him, her voice dropping to a teasing purr. "You really need to keep your girlfriend in check, genius.

Don't throw a tantrum when I call her out in front of the whole class later!" I was on my way to the office to hand in my homework, but I heard this conversation outside the door.

My face instantly flushed with shame. Through the narrow window, I watched Knox's hand move. He didn't defend me. He didn't hesitate.

He dropped my clumsy, overstuffed breakfast wrap straight into the garbage can.

He wiped his hands, accepted a flawlessly cut, gourmet turkey sandwich from Leighton, and seamlessly went back to solving equations. That morning, my alarm didn't go off.

I frantically tossed ham, cheese, and scrambled eggs into a tortilla, burning my own fingers just to make sure he had something warm to eat before first period.

The truth slammed into my chest, crushing my lungs. He despised my clumsy efforts. He had hated them for months.

He intentionally used AP Calc as an excuse to hide in her office every morning, trashing my messy food, and eating her pictureperfect meals.

Back then, Leighton's psychological warfare had already completely shredded my selfworth.

I stood in the hallway, agonizing over my own flaws, hating myself for being too sloppy, too stupid, and too thoroughly inadequate for a prodigy like him.

But I forgot one massive, glaring fact. I didn't owe Knox a damn thing. I am who I am. Messy, loud, and real. And my life belonged entirely to me.

Chapter 6 Knox's hoarse, broken whisper dragged me out of the memory. "I'm so sorry, Sage." I checked my watch. Time for my meds.

Only by taking the medicine could I suppress the crazy emotions and turn my world into a peaceful gray, to keep the psych ward straightjackets away.

The outofpocket therapy bills already drained my bank account. I had to stay functional. "Are you sick?" Panic spiked in Knox's voice.

He sprinted to the espresso bar, filled a paper cup with warm water, and thrust it toward me. I didn't even look at it.

I tossed the bitter pills into my mouth and dryswallowed them hard. His grip tightened until the paper cup crumpled.

A wave of devastating pain flooded his eyes. "You… you used to need me to hold your hand and coax you just to take a Tylenol…" I shoved past his chest, my expression completely blank.

I marched back to the register and tapped the POS screen. Knox didn't leave. He sank into a corner booth, sitting there like a statue until my shift ended at dusk.

That day marked the beginning of his new obsession. He turned Naomi's cafe into his personal corner office.

He swiped his black card for every single leftover pastry in the display case, boxing up mountains of food he couldn't possibly eat.

At dawn, I'd find him sweeping the dead leaves off the front welcome mat, waiting for me to unlock the doors.

At night, a massive, sleek Bentley crawled along the curb behind me, its headlights illuminating the pitchblack alleyway leading to the subway station.

A multimillion dollar tech partner acting like a desperate stalker. I squatted against the brick wall outside a 7Eleven, ripping into a cheap deli wrap. A shadow fell over me.

Knox stood there, silently holding a large black umbrella to block the blinding sun. He cleared his throat, testing the ice. "Leighton posted a TikTok. About… about high school.

Did you see it? I saw it." He swallowed hard. "How have you been, Sage?

After everything?" I threw the leftover wrapper into the trash can and turned away calmly, no different from how I'd treat a stranger.

During those lockedward hospital stays, a feral hatred consumed me. I wanted to destroy them all. I wanted to destroy the pathetic, weak girl I used to be.

But the medication fixed that. It wrapped my brain in thick bubble wrap.

The noise of the outside world—even the agonizing desperation in Knox's eyes—filtered through a thick layer of static. I survived a living hell. But I am perfectly fine now.

Naomi hired me out of pure desperation. She needed a warm body behind the counter, and I needed rent money.

She told me to just hold the fort, promised me a decent hourly rate regardless of how bad I messed up. But the following week, she slapped a new contract onto the breakroom table.

A permanent pastry chef position. A massive salary bump. "You constantly talk yourself down.

Claiming you aren't a professional," Naomi said, tapping the paper. "But you carried this bakery on your back for six months.

You even studied at night and got your culinary certification, right?" She nailed it. I operated on a severe peoplepleasing trauma response.

Calvin and Sylvia hardwired me to give until it hurt, to bleed for anyone struggling. If someone handed me a crumb of kindness, I owed them a tencourse meal.

That toxic loyalty drove me to perfect every single pastry recipe. That exact same flaw forced me to hold a shattered sixyearold Knox together. "As a business owner?

I absolutely exploit employees like you," Naomi stated bluntly. "I pile on the pressure, you deliver flawless results, and you never say no." Her voice softened.

She reached out and squeezed my shoulder. "But as someone who actually cares about you? I need you to fight back. I need you to demand what you actually want.

Sage, look in the mirror. Your eyes look dead." She sighed heavily. "You are incredibly talented. What did you actually want to major in? Before everything crashed?

What actually makes you feel alive?" She gently ruffled my hair, treating me exactly like the naive, brighteyed college freshmen working the registers.

Something violently loud ripped through the thick, gray fog in my head. A heavy, rhythmic thumping against my ribs. It took me a long time to identify the sound. My own heartbeat.

I haven't heard it in years. Chapter 7 That afternoon, a massive catering order went totally sideways. Brett, our usual delivery guy, got into a brutal fender bender.

Naomi spent twenty minutes on the phone profusely apologizing before shoving the replacement bags into my hands.

That was exactly how, seven years after graduation, I ended up standing facetoface with Leighton again. Leighton had organized an "alumni spotlight" for her current AP class.

She even bought them all iced lattes.

I arrived at the classroom door just as she was reading out the grades and handing back the exams. "Avery, ninetyeight percent." Leighton smirked, dangling the paper just out of the girl's reach. "Did you cheat?

Girls who spend their entire lives glued to TikTok don't magically ace calculus." She let out a mocking little scoff. "Dylan, seventytwo percent.

Hey, almost a C!" She beamed, sliding a coffee onto his desk. "You boys naturally have the brains for this.

Just put in a little effort and you'll easily hit the top of the class." Seven years later, Leighton was still confident and beautiful, wearing a stylish dress, blushing and joking around with the boys at the podium.

Her eyes flicked toward the doorway. She froze for a split second before smiling and waving me inside. "Oh my gosh, what a crazy coincidence!

This delivery girl actually used to be my student. Sage… Sage, right?

Come here, come say hi to the seniors!" Leighton's voice dripped with fake sweetness. "I originally planned to invite one of our genius alumni today.

But since Sage is here, maybe she can share some life advice. Back in the day, you completely tanked your GPA. Too busy obsessing over boys and starting drama with your teachers.

So, how's life treating you now?" The entire classroom erupted into whispers. Thirty pairs of eyes locked onto me.

Leighton grabbed the fabric of my shirt and shoved me toward the podium, a sickening, triumphant smirk playing on her lips. I stared out at the sea of desks.

The gray fog in my head thickened. I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. My voice came out completely flat. "I never made it to college.

My dad drove night shifts to pay for my prep school. A drunk driver killed him the year I turned eighteen. I developed severe clinical depression.

My mom sold our family home just to pay for the psychiatric wards. I currently work minimum wage as a barista." "Pfft." Leighton couldn't help but laugh.

She pointed at me and turned to remind the class, "Did you hear that? Girls like her—" I didn't let her finish. My heavy boot slammed directly into her kneecap. She shrieked.

Her knees buckled. She crashed onto the linoleum floor. I grabbed a fistful of her expensive blowout. Crack. My palm connected with her left cheek. Crack.

I backhanded her right cheek. I stood over her shivering body. I locked eyes with the girls in the front row. "Did you hear me?

If you don't want to end up like me, start fighting back. Stop letting pickme bitches completely destroy your lives.

Why do the boys get to play dumb while reaping all the benefits? Why are the girls always the ones targeted, isolated, and punished?" "Get smart. Record everything.

Collect the receipts. Drag your parents into it. Bombard the school board with emails. Expose them on TikTok. Use every single weapon you have to save your own damn lives.

What exactly are you afraid of? Do you really want to become the next me?" Dead silence smothered the room.

Leighton sat paralyzed on the ground, staring blankly for a few seconds before suddenly erupting into a piercing scream: "Sage, are you out of your fucking mind?! Dylan! Grab her!

Someone call 911! Get Gary from security!" Dylan seemed a bit guilty and stayed planted in his seat. None of the boys moved