Chapter 3: So After Everything, You Needed My Pity
"I can't believe summer's already over," two girls said as they passed Hannah.
She stood silently beside her pink Bentley. With a sigh, she popped the boot, tossed her luggage inside, then climbed into the driver's seat.
She turned the key.
Nothing.
"No. No, no, no. Not today," she muttered. She tried again—still nothing. "Please, Bentley… don't do this." Another try. A pathetic sputter, then silence.
She dropped her head onto the steering wheel with a groan.
"I know that sound. Looks like your car's bricked," came a voice.
Hannah looked up to see the same girl from before—Stephen—standing by the window.
"My dad restores classic cars," Stephen added with a shrug. "Do you want a ride, or…?"
Hannah stared at her blankly. Stephen smiled. "Or do you not want my pity?"
Hannah sighed, then opened the door and got in. She didn't look at Stephen, who just glanced at her with a small smile every now and then.
Stephen broke the silence first. "I didn't watch the video, by the way."
Hannah turned slightly. "Congrats," she said flatly, then turned back to the window. "You're probably the only one."
Stephen kept her eyes on the road. "Was it your ex who leaked it?" she asked carefully.
"Are you going to talk the entire ride?" Hannah muttered.
Stephen smirked but didn't answer.
Then Hannah asked, "How do you even know about it?"
"I'm actually transferring to Sara's High," Stephen replied. "I saw it in a post."
"Moving before senior year? Brutal," Hannah muttered.
Stephen hesitated, then asked, "What happened to him? Your ex?"
"Oh, you know… what always happens to guys. Nothing," Hannah said calmly, almost detached. "I'm the slut on probation, and his tiny little dick gets off scot-free. They always do."
Stephen nodded, her voice softening. "Yeah… I know what it's like. To be screwed over. By someone you trusted."
Hannah gave her a side glance.
Stephen took a breath. "When I was thirteen, I went to day camp. There was this girl… she was untouchable. Like she glowed or something. I already knew I liked girls, but I hadn't told anyone."
She pushed her golden-brown hair back, eyes focused ahead. "She made me feel safe. Confident. So I told her. I came out to her, and it felt amazing. Like the greatest moment of my life."
Stephen paused. "But I guess I wasn't as safe as I thought. She told everyone I tried to hold her down and kiss her."
"What?" Hannah blurted, staring at her.
"She didn't just out me. She turned me into a predator. No one would come near me."
"No consequences for her, I assume?" Hannah asked.
Stephen scoffed. "Nope. She actually goes to Sara's High."
"Really? Who?"
"Priea James."
Hannah's jaw dropped. "Priea? That crunchy granola lesbian? Damn—outed by your own team."
Stephen let out a scream of frustration. Hannah blinked, speechless.
"I'm sorry," Stephen said, laughing awkwardly.
"Oh my God," Hannah muttered, shaking her head.
Stephen smiled. "It really helps, you know. Talking about it. You should try it. Might help with the NK stuff."
"I don't think about him anymore."
"Just do it," Stephen nudged.
"No, thank you."
"It's recommended by medical professionals. It's called—"
"AHHHHHH!" Hannah screamed suddenly, making Stephen jump.
Then they both laughed.
"You really had that pent up," Stephen said.
"Should we get grilled cheese?" Stephen asked.
"That sounds nice," Hannah said softly. "Let's get grilled cheese."
They pulled into a buzzing restaurant, packed with people returning from summer vacations. After sitting down, they ordered.
Stephen looked over. "Why don't you transfer?"
"Transfer where?" Hannah asked.
"Anywhere."
"I'm not like you, Stephen," Hannah replied. "My mom's a nurse. She's worked her whole life to get me here. Sara's High is my only shot at Yale. I can't mess that up."
"What about your friends?"
"You mean NK's friends?" Hannah smirked, sipping her drink.
Stephen looked stunned.
"I didn't even realize the power he had. He made me feel safe. Protected. But it was all conditional. I was playing a role… and I guess I wasn't playing it right anymore."
Stephen nodded. "We all love our emotional terrorists."
Hannah dug into her ice cream. "Yeah, they're so fun."
"What about you?" she asked. "Why go to school with the girl who ruined your life?"
Stephen sipped her coconut juice. "I didn't want to. I begged to transfer. But my parents are still the Final Decision Committee. They think this is the best path to an Ivy."
"They're not wrong," Hannah admitted, taking a bite of grilled cheese.
"I'm dreading it," Stephen said.
"Same," Hannah replied.
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