Autumn's POV
I wake up still wearing the cream dress.
Mascara stains my pillow. My eyes are swollen from crying. My phone sits on the nightstand where I threw it last night, screen dark and silent. I turned it off on the bus and haven't turned it back on.
I don't want to see the messages. I already know what they'll say.
Mom knocks softly on my door. "Autumn? Honey, are you okay? You came home so early last night."
"I'm fine," I lie through the door. "Just tired."
"Do you want breakfast?"
"No thanks."
Her footsteps fade down the hallway. I hear her sigh. She knows something's wrong, but she won't push. That's not who Mom is. She works two jobs to keep us in our tiny apartment, to pay for my Crestwood Academy tuition even with the scholarship. She doesn't have energy left to pry into teenage heartbreak.
I peel off the cream dress and stuff it in the back of my closet. I never want to see it again.
The mirror shows me the truth: puffy red eyes, tangled hair, a face that looks exactly like someone who got their heart shattered into a million pieces.
Two hundred dollars. That's what you're worth.
Crew's laugh echoes in my head. Madison's cold voice. Sarah and Jake joining in like it was the funniest joke they'd ever heard.
I grab my biggest hoodie—the gray one that hangs past my knees—and pull it on. Then my glasses. Then I tie my hair up in the messiest bun possible.
There. Back to invisible. Back to safe.
My phone sits on the nightstand like a bomb waiting to explode. Finally, I turn it on.
Immediately, it buzzes non-stop. Messages flood in, one after another after another.
Riley: WHERE ARE YOU
Riley: AUTUMN ANSWER YOUR PHONE
Riley: I'm coming over first thing tomorrow we need to talk
Crew: Please tell me you're okay
Crew: Autumn I'm worried
Crew: Where did you go? Did something happen?
Crew: Can we talk? Please?
I stare at Crew's messages. He sounds so concerned. So genuine. Like he actually cares.
But I heard him. I heard every word.
"Easiest money I ever made."
My hands shake as I scroll through more messages. There are some from numbers I don't recognize. I open one.
Unknown: heard u ran away from prom crying lol
Unknown: did u really think crew liked u? 😂
Unknown: go back to the art room where u belong
My stomach twists. They know. Everyone knows.
I'm about to turn the phone off again when it rings. Riley's name flashes across the screen.
I almost don't answer. But Riley is the only real friend I have. The only person who saw me before last night.
"Hello?"
"AUTUMN HAYES." Riley's voice is sharp with worry. "I have been losing my mind! Where did you go? Crew said you just disappeared and—"
"I heard them," I interrupt quietly. "In the coat room. Madison, Crew, all of them. Talking about the bet."
Silence on the other end. Then: "What bet?"
My voice cracks. "Crew asked me to prom because of a bet. Fifty dollars from each person that he could make the hoodie girl fall for him. Two hundred dollars total. He said..." I can barely get the words out. "He said it was the easiest money he ever made."
"That son of a—" Riley's voice turns to pure rage. "I'm coming over. Right now. Don't move."
"Riley, wait—"
But she's already hung up.
Twenty minutes later, there's pounding on our apartment door. Mom opens it, and Riley storms into my room like a hurricane.
"Tell me everything. Every word they said."
So I do. I tell her about Madison's laugh. About Crew bragging. About Sarah and Jake joining in. About how they called me desperate and said I needed to learn my place.
By the end, Riley's hands are clenched into fists so tight her knuckles are white.
"I'm going to destroy him," she says quietly. "I'm going to destroy all of them."
"No." I pull my hoodie tighter. "I just want to disappear. Six more weeks of school and then summer. I can survive six weeks."
"Autumn—"
"Please." I meet her eyes. "I just want to forget this ever happened."
Riley stares at me for a long moment. Then she pulls me into a tight hug.
"Okay. But if any of them come near you, I'm not responsible for what I do."
We spend the rest of Saturday in my room. Riley paints my nails black—"warrior color," she calls it. We watch movies. We don't talk about prom or Crew or bets or broken hearts.
But Sunday morning, I have to turn my phone back on. School starts tomorrow.
More messages wait for me.
Crew: Please talk to me. Something's wrong and I want to help.
Crew: Did someone say something to you at prom?
Crew: Autumn, I care about you. Please let me explain.
Explain what? That he manipulated me for money? That every kind word was a lie?
I start typing: I heard you. In the coat room. I heard everything.
My finger hovers over send.
But then I delete it. If I tell him I know, he'll try to explain. He'll apologize. He'll make excuses. And some pathetic part of me might want to believe him.
Better to say nothing. Better to disappear back into my hoodie and let him think I just got scared and ran away.
I delete all his messages without responding.
Monday morning comes too fast.
I stand outside Crestwood Academy's front gates wearing my biggest hoodie, my unnecessary glasses, my armor. Students stream past me, laughing and talking about prom. I hear Madison's high-pitched voice somewhere nearby.
My chest feels tight. My hands won't stop shaking.
I can do this. Six weeks. Just six more weeks and then summer break. I can be invisible for six more weeks.
I take a deep breath and walk through the gates.
The whispers start immediately.
"That's her."
"The prom girl."
"I heard she ran away crying."
"So embarrassing."
I keep my head down and walk faster. The art room. I just need to get to the art room where I can hide.
"Autumn!"
Crew's voice. Right behind me.
No. Not now. I can't face him now.
I speed up, practically running down the hallway. Students move aside, watching this pathetic scene unfold. The invisible girl running away from the golden boy.
"Autumn, wait! Please!"
His hand catches my arm, spinning me around.
Crew looks terrible. His eyes are red like he hasn't slept. His perfect hair is messy. His smile is nowhere to be found.
"Where have you been? I was so worried. Why did you leave prom? Why won't you answer my messages?"
I stare at him. This boy who held my hand. Who danced with me. Who told me I was genuine and special and different.
This boy who bet his friends he could make me fall for him.
"Let go of me," I say quietly.
"Not until you tell me what's wrong. Did someone say something to you? Did Madison—"
"I said let go."
Something in my voice makes him drop my arm. Students crowd around us, watching, waiting for drama.
Crew's face is full of concern and confusion. He's good at this. Really good at pretending to care.
"Talk to me," he says softly. "Please. Whatever happened, we can fix it."
I look into his blue eyes and see nothing but lies.
"There's nothing to fix," I tell him. "We're done. Leave me alone."
I turn and walk away before he can respond. Behind me, I hear Madison's delighted laugh echo through the hallway.
The art room door closes behind me with a soft click. Silence wraps around me like a blanket.
I sink into my usual corner spot, pull my hoodie over my head, and let out a shaky breath.
Six weeks. I can survive six weeks.
But as I sit there in the quiet art room, hiding from the world, one thought burns through my mind like fire:
I will never, ever let anyone make me feel this small again.