The Styles Triplets

Chapter 3

Marcel needed to understand something. He didn't need to feel ashamed anymore. He didn't deserve to shrink himself just to survive high school. He was kind, intelligent, and loyal in ways most people here could never hope to be—and if anyone could convince him of that, it would be Harry. Whether Harry liked it or not.

"Harry?"

He glanced up from his locker. "Oh. Hey."

The hallway was nearly empty, the calm before the chaos of passing period. A few minutes earlier, I'd asked my teacher if I could visit the nurse after spotting Harry walking past the classroom. Technically, I was feeling sick—just not physically.
"Listen," I started, stepping closer. "I need a favor. Mar—"

RINNNNNNG

The bell shattered the quiet. Doors flew open all around us as students flooded into the hallway, filling the space with noise and movement. My words died in my throat as John and his usual group immediately appeared beside Harry.
Great. Perfect timing.

Harry's posture changed instantly. His shoulders squared, expression hardening like a mask snapping into place. "Can I help you?" he asked coldly.

At first I didn't think he was talking to me, so I looked all around me and over my shoulder.
Is he talking to me??

"Sorry," Harry continued loudly, "I don't talk to people like you."

I was shocked!
The laughter came fast—John and his friends eating it up.
"Why don't you go hang out with Marcel?" John added with a sneer. "Sorry, Alli, but—"

"It's Alex," I snapped. "If you're going to insult me, at least get my name right."

"Okay, Alex," he mocked. "Harry's not into you. Now run along."

"I wasn't even-"

"I said leave," John interrupted sharply. "No one wants you here."

The words hit harder than I expected. I stepped back instinctively, heat rising behind my eyes. For a brief second, I looked at Harry. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't.
Why am I about to cry right now?

"Bye, Alex," he said quietly before turning away with the others.

They disappeared into the crowd, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the hallway. Taking a steady breath, I walked slowly to my locker, hands shaking slightly as I pulled out my phone.
I've had enough of this school for one day.
Without giving myself time to reconsider, I typed:

[Hey Marce, I'm coming over]

The reply came almost instantly.

M: [Right now? Are you crazy?]

[A little. I'll see you in a few]

M: [No! You can't ditch!]

Too late. I gathered my bag, slipping quietly toward the stairwell. I waited beneath the stairs until the next bell rang and the halls cleared again. Once the coast was clear, I pushed through the side exit and stepped into the warm afternoon air.

---

The walk to Marcel's house was longer than I wanted to admit. At first, anger fueled me. Each step replayed the hallway scene in my mind—Harry's cold voice, John's laughter, the stares I'd been getting all morning. But somewhere along the way, the anger faded into something heavier. Confusion.

Why had Harry acted like that after last night? And why did it bother me so much?

By the time I reached Marcel's street, my feet hurt and my emotions were tangled beyond repair.

Marcel answered the door with wide eyes.  
"You actually came! That's a really far walk!"

"I've officially had enough of school for one day," I said as he ushered me inside.

"What happened? It's not even lunchtime yet."

I dropped my bag near the couch. "Well, apparently walking into school with your brother turns you into public entertainment."

"Harry did something?" Marcel asked immediately, anger flashing across his face.

"No—Edward," I clarified.

Marcel frowned. "Edward?"

"He gave me a ride this morning. When we walked in together, everyone just... stared. Whispering, pointing—the whole thing." I sighed heavily. "And then Harry completely humiliated me in front of his friends. Like last night never happened. Like he didn't even know me." The frustration finally spilled over.

I let out a groan and then put my head on his shoulder, "I hate school."

Marcel chuckled softly and rubbed my back. "You and me both. Want something to drink?"

"Yes, please," I mumbled.

He guided me to the couch before disappearing into the kitchen. The familiar comfort of his house settled around me—the quiet, the safety, the absence of judgment. When he returned, he handed me a glass of water.

"Thanks." I said taking it from his hands and taking a sip.

Marcel sat beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched. "I'll make you lunch later if you get hungry."

"You spoil me," I teased weakly. "Marce... I actually came here because I wanted to talk to you."

His expression softened. "Okay."

"You don't have to be so self-conscious," I said gently. "Edward told me why you stayed home today. You can't keep letting people decide how you feel about yourself."

He looked down at his hands. "I can't help it." He met my eyes, uncertainty written all over his face.

"You're smart. You're kind. You're stronger than you think you are," I said. "Please come back to school tomorrow. Not for them. For you."

"I-I don't know..."

I squeezed his hand and smiled. "I'll be there. Right beside you."

Marcel swallowed, nerves obvious as he nodded slowly. "O-Okay," he said. "Yeah... I'll do it." A small, shy smile appeared. "For you."