The classroom never fully settled.
Even after the teacher forced everyone back to work, tension lingered—thick, humid, impossible to ignore. Students kept glancing at Blake. Whispering. Watching him like they expected him to snap again.
Jade noticed. But she wasn't looking at him with fear.
She was looking at him with concern.
Because something about what just happened didn't feel like anger. It felt like something else entirely.
Blake sat beside her, staring down at the desk. Not reading. Not writing. Just—still.
His hand tightened slowly around his pen. The plastic creaked.
She leaned closer. "Blake." No response. "Blake."
He blinked suddenly, like pulled back from somewhere distant. "What?"
She tilted her head. "You're squeezing that pen like it wronged you."
He looked down. The plastic had cracked. He dropped it immediately. "Sorry."
"You don't have to apologize to the pen."
He didn't smile. That was what made it worse.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling like trying to escape his own thoughts. She watched him carefully. "You scared her."
His eyes shifted toward Amber across the room. "Good."
Jade hesitated. "She deserved it."
She didn't argue. But something in his tone made her uneasy. Not just anger. Something colder.
"Blake," she said carefully. "What happened to you?"
The question lingered. Quiet, almost humorless breath. "You want the short version?"
She nodded.
"Two years ago, everything fell apart." Gaze drifting toward the window. "After the accident. After the message." Jaw tightening. "After everyone decided I was the problem."
Her chest constricted. "Blake—"
He kept going. "My parents stopped trusting me. Friends disappeared." A pause. "And the person I thought I could trust…" Voice trailing.
She looked down.
"After a while," he said quietly, "you stop trying to be the good guy."
A chill ran through her. "That doesn't sound like you."
His lips curved slightly. Not a smile. "You don't know who I am anymore." Not insult. Warning.
She met his eyes. "Maybe not." Softer now: "But something about you still feels the same."
He looked away quickly. Because something inside him reacted to that. The pressure in his chest returned. Building. Tightening.
Hands curled under the desk. Thoughts turned sharp. Fast. Uncontrolled.
She lied. She hurt you. Don't forget that.
He inhaled sharply.
Jade noticed instantly. "Blake?"
His eyes had changed. Darker. Distant. For a second—she didn't recognize him.
"Are you okay?"
He forced his hands to relax. "Yeah."
The word felt empty.
She shook her head slightly. "That didn't look okay."
He stood abruptly. Chair scraping loud against floor. Heads turned again.
"I need air."
Before she could stop him—he walked out. Door slamming behind him.
Silence followed.
Jade stared at the door. Heart racing. Because what she'd seen in his eyes wasn't just anger. It was something she didn't understand. Something that wore his face but wasn't him.
Across the room, Amber watched. Slow smile spreading. Because she'd seen it too.
And unlike Jade—Amber wasn't worried. She was interested. Jade stood slowly. Ignoring the looks around her.
One thought repeating:
Something is wrong.
And whatever was happening to Blake—
it was getting worse.