Bree Just as I was about to make my way toward someone else, hoping to finish this social torture known as mingling, one of the girls from the hut suddenly stormed up to me. Her steps were sharp, deliberate, and loud enough to draw a bit of attention. She looked absolutely livid—like I had personally insulted her existence just by standing here, breathing air. Her face was twisted in an expression that felt way too dramatic for the situation, her lips pursed tightly and her eyes practically shooting daggers. I hadn’t even opened my mouth, yet I could already feel the hostility rolling off her in thick waves. “What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. She placed one hand firmly on her hip and jutted it out with exaggerated flair, as though her physical stance could somehow overpower me. My eyebrow arched before I could stop it. I was honestly stunned—not even just by her tone, but by her complete audacity. What had I done? I was simply doing what Rachel and Derek had asked us all to do—mingle, talk to people, make connections. And for someone like me, that already took effort. It wasn’t like I was out here trying to steal anyone’s thunder. I was just trying to get through it. “I’m just existing, pretty much,” I responded, trying to keep my tone calm, but the sarcasm slipped through anyway. It came out sharper than I intended. That attitude—the one I’d been warned about countless times before—bubbled up before I could swallow it down. She rolled her heavily lined eyes at me and let out a loud, exaggerated huff, like she was personally offended by my presence. I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out what I had done to her specifically. I didn’t know her. But judging by the glare and the tension in her posture, she already knew exactly who I was—and probably had an entire fictional story about me playing in her head. “You were talking to Caleb Brown,” she said, her tone now laced with venom, her words slow and deliberate, like she was spelling it out for an i***t. “Do you even know who that is?” I blinked, trying to keep my expression neutral even though I could feel my heart thumping in my chest. “I know he goes to Sierra,” I replied, careful but not passive. “I know he plays football. But if you’re dying to get to know him, you should probably just walk over and talk to him yourself.” A tiny smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, uninvited. That was apparently the wrong thing to say. She stepped closer—too close—violating every unspoken rule of personal space. The heels she wore brought her nearly a head taller than me, which only added to the way she seemed to loom over me like some villain straight out of a teenage drama. I had to tilt my chin up slightly to look her in the eye, and that power play wasn’t lost on either of us. “You’re Bree Morgan,” she hissed, saying my name like it was some kind of curse word. “You’re nothing but a w***e. The kind of girl who steals someone else’s boyfriend and then plays victim. Tell me—why do you think someone like Caleb talked to you?” Her words hit harder than I expected, the venom in her voice slicing right into me like a blade. The small smile I’d been holding onto faded instantly, slipping from my face like it had never been there at all. “Stop,” I said quietly, my voice cracking around the single word. It was all I could manage. But that just seemed to fuel her more. A sinister smile curled onto her lips, slick and glossy from the overdone lip gloss she’d slathered on earlier. She looked satisfied, like a predator who had just smelled weakness in the air. Like she could see the crack in my armor and was planning to rip it wide open. “It’s true, isn’t it?” she whispered, though her tone carried. Her drawn-on eyebrows arched in challenge. “You went after Jenna’s boyfriend. You saw something you wanted and just swooped in where you didn’t belong. And then, like the slut everyone said you were, you just went ahead and spread your legs.” The words were like poison. I flinched inwardly, even though I didn’t move. My breath caught in my chest. I looked down, unable to meet the searing malice in her eyes any longer. My throat tightened. My hands clenched at my sides. There was a buzzing in my ears, loud and high, like my body was trying to drown her out. I felt small. So small. All I had done was talk to someone. One conversation. One moment. And still, here I was—reduced, judged, labeled, and discarded by someone who didn’t know a single real thing about me. “But I guess you thought it actually mattered to him. That you were something special,” she continued, her voice dripping with condescension. A sharp, damning chuckle followed, slicing through the space between us like a blade. The sound of it made a shiver crawl down my spine. It was the kind of laugh people use when they know they’re getting under your skin—cold, calculated, and entirely void of empathy. “He’s not the only one though, is he?” she went on, not even giving me space to respond. “How many have you done that to? Is that your mom’s MO? Swooping in and stealing what doesn’t belong to her?” Her lip curled cruelly. “Is that where you learned how to do it?” It took me a moment to process that she’d gone there. That she had the nerve to drag my mother into this—to smear the one person who had stood by me when everyone else had vanished, who had fought battles on my behalf without even blinking. The woman who had marched into the principal’s office and refused to be ignored. The woman who had scraped together the money to send me here –through my grandparents– because she thought I deserved something better. The heat rushed through me, but it wasn’t shame this time. It was anger. I straightened my back and squared my shoulders, locking my eyes on hers. I wasn’t going to fold. Not this time. “Like you’re a virgin?” I asked sharply, my tone cutting through the moment like ice. “Please. If hoe was a perfume, you’d be the damn poster girl.” My voice didn’t tremble, even as the blood pounded in my ears. “I might have slept with one guy—one guy I trusted—but I bet you take anyone for a ride, don’t you?” The confident smirk she wore faltered slightly. The curl of her lip tightened, just for a second. A flicker of discomfort flashed through her expression before she tried to snuff it out. “You don’t know anything about me,” she spat, her voice lowering into a defensive hiss, like a snake cornered but still willing to strike. “Like you know anything about me,” I shot back, louder now. I didn’t care who heard. “I was taken advantage of. Yeah, maybe I was dumb. Maybe I was naïve and delusional. But I didn’t ask for it. I actually thought he loved me. He told me that—repeatedly. But I guess you didn’t see those texts, did you?” Her nostrils flared, and her fists clenched, but she still didn’t back off. “That doesn’t change anything,” she snapped. “You’re still pathetic. You’re still plastered all over f*******: with your ass and t**s hanging out. Maybe if you actually did something with your body—if you dressed properly—maybe someone would take pity on you and finally f**k you willingly.” The words hit like a slap to the face. I felt the sting behind my eyes, the way my vision blurred at the edges. My bottom lip trembled before I could stop it. I hated that she saw it. I hated that I was letting her in, that my body was betraying how much she was getting to me. She saw it too, and her smile returned—sharp and victorious. She stepped in closer, her presence suffocating. “You are nothing,” she whispered, her voice low and seething. “You will always be nothing. And this?” She leaned in even closer, her breath warm and venomous against my ear. “This will be a great addition to the group. Smile for the camera.” My eyes followed hers, trailing over to the side where another girl—one of her loyal clones—was holding up her phone, clearly recording the entire interaction. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter as she aimed the camera directly at my face, waiting for my humiliation to be complete. But before I could even blink, something unexpected happened. A large hand appeared from nowhere, snatching the phone right out of her hand. And in one swift, unhesitating motion, it was slammed into the ground, shattering into pieces. “What the actual f**k is going on?” The voice that followed was low, rough, and commanding. It boomed across the field like thunder, and my eyes snapped upward to find the source. There he stood—tall, broad, and unmistakably furious. His jaw was clenched, his brows pulled low over his eyes. His whole body practically radiated heat, and the force of his presence made my breath catch. “Simmons,” the girl scoffed, straightening herself like nothing had happened. She tossed her hair and tried to plaster on a fake smile. “I was just getting to know the newcomer. We’re hut mates.” “It doesn’t look like it, Gabi,” he growled, taking a step forward, his voice sharp and brimming with restrained rage. “Back off. Your time is up.” And just as if on cue, Rachel’s voice rang out across the field, calling everyone’s attention. “Time’s up!”