Amanda didn't look back when David walked away.
She just shifted her backpack higher on her shoulder and headed down the hall, ignoring the way conversations hushed as she passed.
It was always like this now.
Some stared openly, curious. Others avoided her eyes, as if looking too long might curse them. And then there were the ones who didn't bother hiding their smirks.
She heard a whisper cut through the noise.
"That's her. The dump site girl. The one who got beaten by Jonas and his friends."
Another voice snorted.
"Bet the detectives are here for her. Again."
"No one cared about when she was beaten though". Someone squeaked and the rest shushed him.
She kept walking. If she reacted, it meant they'd won. And Amanda Evans didn't give people that kind of satisfaction.
Her locker was a few steps away. She reached for the dial, but her fingers paused when she caught sight of a cluster of students just around the corner. Their voices carried.
"Brian said they found accelerant."
"Gasoline?"
"Yeah. Means someone planned it. That's… that's murder."
"You think they'll find the jerrycan?"
"Not if whoever did it's smart."
A faint, almost unnoticeable smile tugged at her mouth.
No one talked about the video of her getting assaulted anymore. Nope. Apparently being accused of murder covers up everything else about your life. And she had Mike to thank for that. Good old Mike.
She spun the lock and opened her locker door, blocking her face from view.
The smell of burnt plastic — the same one from the dump site — lived in her memory like an unshakable shadow. Sometimes she caught whiffs of it even when she was nowhere near fire.
She remembered the way the flames had curled, greedy and bright, eating Mike's voice before it could travel far enough for anyone to hear.
The memory wasn't guilt. It was… quiet. And it gave her a sense of power.
She stuffed a book into her bag and closed the locker. A few feet away, two girls stopped talking mid-sentence as she walked past. They pretended to check their phones.
At the end of the hall, Amanda caught sight of Jonas leaning against the wall with two of his friends. His gaze tracked her, unblinking.
Her gaze turned cold. Was he here to beat her up again? Send her to the hospital for the second time in one month?
She didn't change her pace, but her grip on her bag tightened.
If he wanted to try again, she wouldn't be caught off guard this time.
From somewhere above — the second-floor railing — came a sharp clap of thunder. Amanda glanced up at the gray light filtering through the high windows. The air felt heavy, storm coming.
And for some reason, it made her think of the dump site.
Of the way heat and smoke had swirled in the air, trapping her in that moment like time had stopped.
She walked away without looking back.
But she felt Jonas's stare follow her until she turned the corner.