Bree My entire body ached, sore in places I hadn’t even known existed. Every step felt like a protest, every breath reminded me of the bench I’d curled up on the night before. I’d ended up sleeping there—cold wood pressing into my back, the night air clinging to my skin, and tears soaking into my pillow. Or what passed for one, anyway. It hadn’t been good for my spine, hadn’t done anything to help with the soreness still clinging to my muscles from the morning run, but somehow, it had felt liberating. Safer, even. Being out there beneath the stars, away from the four walls that reeked of Gabriella’s perfume and cruelty, gave me a strange kind of peace. Out there, no one could touch me. I waited until the hut emptied out for breakfast before I moved. That was the deal I made with myself—wait until the mean girls were gone, then sneak back in to pull myself together. My things were still shoved to the side like they didn’t matter, and honestly, maybe they didn’t. But I did what I could. I fixed my hair, smoothing it back even though the strands didn’t want to cooperate. I dabbed at my face, trying to make my skin look more alive, more presentable. The puffiness beneath my eyes was another story entirely. No concealer in the world could hide a night like that. I stuffed myself into one of Dad’s old hoodies—a faded navy one that smelled like safety and scratched slightly at the wrists. It swallowed me whole, made me feel invisible, and that was exactly what I needed. Underneath, I wore a sports bra and a fitted tank top, already preparing for the first dance class of the day. And as if that wasn’t enough, there was the bootcamp intro later too, which would no doubt leave me even more broken than I already was. I just had to make it through today. Quietly. Stealthily. Unlike yesterday. Luckily, someone else had taken up the rear during this morning’s run, which meant Gage wasn’t trailing behind with me. He ran with his usual crew instead, all easy laughter and long strides. And when I finally dragged my aching body across the finish line, no one was watching. No mocking eyes, no teasing grins—just blessed silence. Everyone had scattered to different activities by then, and I was thankful for the invisibility cloak that morning had granted me. Now, it was time for dance class. Gabriella was there, of course—front and center like she owned the damn floor. But I made sure to plant myself at the opposite end of the room, creating as much distance between us as possible. I didn’t care if it made me look like a coward. I wasn’t here to start fights. I wasn’t here for drama. I was here to survive. To improve. To become someone better. I could already hear Mom’s voice in my head, telling me to stand tall, take the bull by the horns, and not let someone like Gabriella push me around. But I didn’t want to fight. I wasn’t chasing Gage, I wasn’t after Caleb. And if I could just stay away from her, if I could sink into the rhythm of the day and focus on bettering myself, then why should I waste energy trying to change her mind? Gabriella didn’t get to control my story. Not anymore. Six weeks. That’s what I had to endure. Then I’d be at Sierra Ridge, where I could bury myself in course loads, late-night studying, and a fresh start. I’d work hard, get good grades, and chase my dream job. One where I’d be in a position to help others. Maybe I could help teens like me—ones who got caught in someone else’s cruel game. Maybe someday, I’d stand on a stage, telling my story, helping young women and men learn how to treat each other with respect. That dream was still mine. They couldn’t take that. “Alright!” Rachel called out, her energy bright and unshakable as she bounced to the front of the room. Her smile was blinding, like she was trying to beam joy directly into our bones. “Welcome to dance class! This is where we unfold, where we get to know our bodies in new ways—ways you never imagined possible!” Her tone was chipper, almost overly so, but I appreciated the optimism. Even if I didn’t share it today. “We’ll be exploring different styles over the next six weeks,” she continued, eyes scanning over all of us. “Each week, a new rhythm, a new challenge, and a new opportunity to surprise yourself.” I found myself nodding slightly, despite everything. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. “We’re starting with the best one first,” Rachel teased, her hands clapping together excitedly. “Any guesses?” The room stayed mostly quiet, a few murmurs here and there. Gabriella whispered something to one of her friends, both of them smirking. Rachel grinned. “Line dancing!” A quiet laugh escaped my lips, the smallest smile tugging at my mouth. Of all the styles, that was not what I had expected—but it brought a weird kind of comfort. I wasn’t a dancer. I didn’t throw myself into the middle of a crowd. But maybe learning how to move with purpose, with rhythm, would be good for me. Maybe it would help me take back a piece of myself. As the music kicked on—a twangy country tune that sounded suspiciously like Robby Ray Stewart—I let my arms hang loose at my sides and followed Rachel’s lead. Step by step. Beat by beat. One small move at a time. And for just a moment, with that ridiculous cowboy rhythm pulsing through the room, I didn’t feel like a broken girl anymore. I felt like maybe, just maybe, I was dancing my way toward something new. I was warm. No, scratch that—I was boiling. Sweat dripped down my back and clung to my skin, my hoodie locking the heat close to my body. My chest was heaving, my heart pounding with an intensity that felt almost foreign. My body wasn’t used to this, to being pushed and pulled in new ways, to moving with this kind of rhythm and consistency. But I was adamant—I was going to complete this. I wasn’t going to quit. Every time Rachel gave us a break—just five short minutes—I practically sprinted for my water bottle, gulping it down like it was the only thing keeping me alive. The coldness hit my throat hard, shocking me slightly with each swallow. I tried not to choke as my breaths came heavy and fast, chest rising and falling like I’d just finished a marathon instead of a beginner dance routine. “It’s more fun than I thought it would be,” Caleb’s voice cut through the chaos, light and easy. He stepped up beside me, his hair damp with sweat, but that ever-present grin plastered across his face. “What do you think? Are you enjoying camp life so far?” I could have told him the truth. I could have told him that I’d slept on a bench last night, my body aching from both emotional exhaustion and the stiff wood digging into my back. I could have told him that I felt like a ghost in my own skin—alone, even in a crowd, always on edge, always bracing for another one of Gabriella’s nasty comments. I could have told him that every time I heard her snickering behind me, I felt a little piece of my heart crumble, like I was being carved hollow. But I didn’t. Instead, I lowered the bottle from my lips, drew in a deep breath, and gave him the best smile I could manage. “I like it,” I said softly, forcing the corners of my mouth to stay lifted. “I understand why people keep coming back.” His grin widened, like I’d just confirmed a lifelong suspicion. “Definitely. I also get why it’s so easy for them to recruit counselors—honestly, it’s like the easiest job ever.” “I don’t know about that,” I chuckled, glancing over at Rachel as she struggled to guide someone through a few of the basic steps. Her face was bright, but the tension in her jaw gave away her effort. “I think they’re just a great fit for this place.” “You’re right,” he muttered, his brow furrowing slightly, like the idea had only just occurred to him. “Jeez, Bree, you just out here delivering hard truths, huh?” A laugh bubbled up in me, surprising even myself. I felt the flush rise to my cheeks again, not entirely from exertion this time. Caleb had this way of making things feel… easy. “I don’t know,” a venomous voice sliced through our moment like a knife. “I think Bree has even more hard truths, but maybe I’m just thinking wrong.” I froze, my gaze slowly turning toward the source. Gabriella stood to my right, arms crossed casually, her posture smug and dripping with malice. She wore tiny shorts and a fitted sports bra, showing off the kind of body that looked like it had been sculpted from marble. Not an ounce of softness on her. She looked like someone who didn’t just enjoy perfection—she demanded it. I swallowed hard, a knot forming in my stomach. I didn’t want to challenge her, didn’t want to give her a reason to speak the truth she held like a loaded weapon. It was the very reason I had traveled so far from home for the summer. I didn’t want to run into familiar faces. I didn’t want the whispers, the stares, the judgment. I didn’t want anyone to know. “We all have secrets, Gabi,” Caleb said beside me, his arms folding across his chest as he stared her down. “Not all of us go around oversharing like you do.” Gabriella rolled her eyes with practiced indifference, but her lips curled into a flirtatious smirk. “I mean, all I’ve ever done is tell the truth, Caleb. I don’t see the point in hiding that I think you’re hot.” Caleb let out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and then turned back to me. “You wanna come dance with me, Bree? Maybe you can show me how to do that turn thing—‘cause I swear, I keep tripping over my own feet.” “I can show you that,” Gabriella interjected smoothly, stepping closer. Her voice dripped with sugar, but her eyes were daggers. “I can show you a lot of things.” Caleb stepped forward, closing the distance between them with deliberate calm. Gabriella tilted her head to maintain eye contact, the look of smug certainty on her face faltering slightly as he loomed over her. “What I’d really like to see,” he said, voice low and firm, “is for you to leave Bree the f**k alone.” She blinked, momentarily stunned, her expression caught between disbelief and confusion. And then, without waiting for a reply, Caleb turned on his heel, took my hand, and started pulling me away. “Come on, Bree,” he muttered, his grip firm but gentle as we moved across the room, leaving Gabriella behind. I could feel her eyes burning into my back, the heat of her glare making my skin prickle. She was furious, I knew that much. Caleb defending me wasn’t just unexpected—it was unforgivable in her book. But while part of me felt a flicker of gratitude for him, another part of me—buried deep and quiet—couldn’t help but wonder… Would he still defend me if he knew everything? If he knew why I’d come here, what had really happened? Would he still see me the same way?