Chapter 1: The Lowest Rung
Zane slouched in his chair, the weight of the day pressing on him like a suffocating blanket. The fluorescent lights of the high school cafeteria buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the room. His stomach churned, but not from hunger. It was the whispers, the pointed looks, the stifled laughter—those were the things that ate away at him, digging into him deeper than any physical pain could.
It wasn't always like this. Back in middle school, Zane had friends. He was never the most popular kid, but he had people he could talk to, joke with, and sit with at lunch. But things changed when his dad left. Suddenly, the other kids noticed the threadbare clothes, the hand-me-downs, the way his mom's old sedan sputtered in the school parking lot. Kids could sense weakness like sharks smelling blood in the water. And high school? High school was a whole new level of cruelty.
Greg, the ringleader of his tormentors, sat at the far end of the cafeteria, his cocky grin plastered across his face as he leaned back in his chair, surrounded by his gang of followers. Greg always seemed to find joy in other people's misery, and Zane had become his favorite target.
"Hey, Zane!" Greg's voice cut through the noise, silencing the cafeteria. Zane's heart rate quickened as every head turned toward him. "Nice shoes. Did you get those from a dumpster?"
The cafeteria erupted in laughter, the sound echoing off the walls, amplifying Zane's humiliation. His fingers curled into fists under the table, knuckles whitening as he tried to block out the noise. He kept his head down, avoiding their eyes. His sneakers were worn, the soles nearly peeling off, but they were the only pair he had. There were holes in the toes, and the laces had long since frayed into brittle strands. But it didn't matter. No matter what he wore, they'd always find something to mock.
"Leave him alone, Greg." The voice was soft, barely audible over the din of laughter. Zane didn't need to look up to know who it was. Lily. She had been sitting by herself at a table near the back, as she always did, reading or sketching in her notebook.
Greg snorted. "Mind your own business, Lily." His eyes gleamed with malice as he gestured to the empty seat next to him. "Or maybe you want to sit with us instead? Bet you'd love that, wouldn't you?"
The cafeteria hushed slightly, waiting for her response. Zane risked a glance at her. Lily's face was pale, her fingers tightening around the edges of her tray. Her eyes darted to Zane for a brief moment—an unspoken apology, perhaps—but she quickly looked away. She was like him, an outsider, a nobody. But even Lily was safer in this social jungle than Zane. And Zane knew she wasn't going to risk her precarious position to protect him.
He sank lower in his seat, wishing he could melt into the floor, disappear entirely. The bell rang, ending lunch, but not his suffering. As students filtered out of the cafeteria, Greg and his gang took their time, making sure Zane knew they weren't done with him yet.
Zane hurried out of the cafeteria, head down, muscles tensed for the inevitable shove or cruel remark. The hallway felt like a battlefield, every locker, every turn a potential ambush. He reached his locker and began twisting the combination lock with shaking hands. The usual dread settled over him, a familiar cloak of anxiety that weighed heavier each day.
"Hey, Zane!" Greg's voice rang out, too close. Before Zane could react, a hand shoved him hard against the lockers, the cold metal biting into his back. The sound of the impact echoed down the hall, drawing attention from the passing students, but no one stopped. No one ever did.
Zane's body jolted from the impact, but he stayed silent. He'd learned long ago that reacting only made things worse.
"You think you're better than us, huh?" Greg's breath was hot against Zane's ear, his voice laced with smug satisfaction. "You think you can just keep your head down, and we'll leave you alone?"
Zane's back throbbed from where it had hit the locker, but he bit his tongue, refusing to give Greg the satisfaction of a response. He'd been through this routine enough times to know how it played out.
One of Greg's cronies, a lanky kid named Mike, circled around, grinning like a hyena. "Come on, Zane, say something. You think you're too good for us, don't you?"
Zane's hands tightened into fists, but he kept them at his sides. His heart pounded in his chest, a rapid staccato that drowned out everything else. He stared at the floor, his throat dry, the words he wanted to say stuck like a lump in his chest.
"I don't," he muttered, finally, his voice barely audible.
Greg leaned in closer, his breath foul with the stench of the cafeteria's greasy pizza. "Then why don't you act like it? You're a nobody, Zane. Always will be. A worthless loser with nothing."
The words, though painfully familiar, still cut deep. Zane clenched his jaw, willing the tears to stay back. He couldn't cry. Not here. Not in front of them.
Greg smirked, clearly satisfied. He slapped Zane on the shoulder with mock camaraderie. "See you around, loser." He and his gang walked away, their laughter trailing behind them like a poisonous cloud.
Zane slumped against the lockers, the weight of their words settling over him like an unbearable burden. His chest heaved with the effort of holding everything in—his anger, his frustration, his overwhelming sense of helplessness. He wasn't better than them. He wasn't anything at all.
As the last of the students filtered out of the hallway, Zane finally let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He was alone again, the dull thrum of pain in his back a reminder of how low he had sunk. He pressed his forehead against the cool metal of the locker and closed his eyes, trying to push back the dark thoughts that threatened to swallow him whole.
This was his life. Every day, the same misery, the same pain. He had no allies, no one who cared enough to stop it. Not even Lily, the one person who had shown him even a flicker of kindness, could save him from this endless cycle.
The bell rang again, signaling the next class, but Zane didn't move. What was the point? It would just be more of the same.