Bad guy (REWRITTEN)

Chapter 3

The alarm cut through the quiet like a dull knife. I rolled onto my stomach, palm slapping the off button before the sound could dig any deeper. Five more minutes would have been mercy, but the house felt too empty for that kind of indulgence—parents still gone, their last text promising another week of silence.

I dragged myself up, crossed to the bathroom, and let cold water hit my face until the fog lifted. Hair combed straight enough not to fight me, gray hoodie pulled on over sweatpants, Air Forces laced tight. Cereal and milk, eaten standing at the counter while Instagram scrolled past in muted colors. Nothing worth lingering on.
Bike tires hummed over cracked asphalt all the way to the building.

I locked it, shouldered my bag, and stepped inside. Lockers slammed like punctuation marks around me. Voices overlapped in that easy, belonging way I never quite managed. I kept my eyes low, found my locker, swapped books. Emma's photo stared back—her laugh frozen mid-sentence. I shut the door on it and moved.
English smelled of dry-erase and old paper.

Chatter ricocheted off the walls; someone flicked a spitball that landed near my shoe. I scanned for an empty seat far back, away from the knot of noise near the front. Billie was there already, black hair threaded with neon green, chains glinting at her throat like warnings. She leaned toward a girl who was laughing too close, too loud. When her gaze flicked my direction, the air between us tightened. I looked away fast, chose the desk on the opposite side, notebook already open like armor.

The teacher walked in shouting for order. I wrote down dates and quotes, kept my head down. When the bell rang I packed quickly, slipped out, and headed for my locker again.

"Eey. New girl."

Her voice landed behind me like a hand on the shoulder I didn't want. I turned. Same height—our eyes lined up exactly, no tilt needed. She wore the same baggy clothes as yesterday, but today they looked deliberate, like armor she'd chosen to guard. Up-and-down glance, slow enough to count the threads on my hoodie.

"Got a problem with me or something?"

I kept my tone even, the way you speak when the room is listening. "Problem implies I've spent time thinking about you. So no, what do you want?"

Her brows lifted a fraction. Behind her, one of the friends muttered, "She's got attitude."
Billie stepped closer; I didn't retreat, just held the space between us.

"Yesterday you sat as far from me as possible. Today same thing. So either you're scared or you're rude. Which is it?"

I let a small breath out through my nose. "I sat where there was room. You're reading volume into distance. That's on you"

Her jaw worked once. "Next time you're in my class, you sit next to me. Clear?"

I met her stare without blinking. "Clear as glass. Doesn't mean I'll do it"

For a second the hallway noise dropped away. Then she huffed a laugh that wasn't amused, turned around, and walked off with someone trailing. My pulse steadied only after she rounded the corner.

Second period. I claimed my usual desk. The girl already there had short brown hair and steady eyes.

"Hey," she said, voice soft enough not to startle.

I managed a nod. "Hi"

"Sofie. You're new"

"Anna" I shook the offered hand once, quick.

She tilted her head. "You look like you could use a map and a friend. Schedule?"

I handed it over. She scanned, grinned. "Three classes together. Lucky me"

We fell into the rhythm of the lesson—mostly her talking low about teachers who hated Mondays and a crush who didn't know her name. I listened, added the occasional quiet line when the gaps felt too wide. It wasn't hard; she didn't push.

By lunch I was walking with her to the cafeteria line. Tray in hand—apple, fruit cup, burger that actually smelled decent but still when will high-school get better?. I followed her to a table where voices already rose and fell like practiced music.

"This is Anna," Sofie said, sliding in and patting the seat beside her.

The others looked up. Dirty-blonde with green-flecked eyes raised a brow. "New blood. Hi"

Introductions circled: Jason, sharp-tongued and glued to his phone; Sarah, cheerleader posture but no fake sweetness; then the late arrival—Rick, brown eyes, easy grin, dropping into the chair across from me.

"You were talking to Billie?" Sofie asked him, fork hovering.

He sighed. "Fight details. She keyed some guy's ride. He wants payback after last bell"

Sarah snorted. "Tell him to bring backup. Or a priest"

I kept my eyes on my apple, turning it in my fingers. The name alone had tightened something behind my ribs.

Jason leaned in, voice dropping. "You should know the lay of the land, Anna. Billie's... complicated"

"I don't need the map," I said quietly. "I'm good at staying on my own roads"

Sarah shook her head. "You don't get it. She's rich, parents in front of cameras half the year, looks like trouble wrapped in expensive packaging. Every person in this building either wants her or fears her. She almost put a kid in the hospital last year. He transferred out. No expulsion, no consequences. That's the part that keeps everyone awake"

Rick nodded. "She gets whatever she points at. People, things, silence. Don't get pointed at"
I met each of their stares in turn, voice low but steady. "Sounds exhausting to keep track of. I'll just keep my head low and my distance reasonable"

Sofie's hand brushed my arm. "Smart. But she already told you to sit next to her, didn't she?"

I exhaled through my teeth. "She did. I told her the seat next to me isn't reserved"

Jason whistled softly. "Bold. Quiet-bold, but still"

The bell rang before anyone could push further. I stood, tray balanced, pulse humming with the small victory of not folding. As I walked toward biology, the memory of Billie's eyes bright, cold, unflinching lingered like a fingerprint on glass.
I didn't want her inside my head even her presence next to me.

But the hallway felt narrower now, and I already knew she wasn't the kind who accepted no as final punctuation.