The moment Zack Ryder cornered me in that grimy alleyway behind Northwood Prep, the first comments appeared across my vision. I blinked, convinced the stress of Senior Year had finally pushed me into a full-blown hallucination. [The supporting character doesn't know it yet, but this 'yellow-haired punk' is her long-lost older brother.] [The Heroine manipulated him into becoming a delinquent; he'll later die trying to save her.] [It’s because of today’s incident that he gets a permanent record trying to protect the Heroine.] I stared at the punk—Zack, as I’d named him in my head—with his bleached-out hair and intimidating leather jacket, as he took a threatening step closer. “Hold up!” I shouted, my voice surprisingly steady. “Don’t start yet! Let me call my people!” He snorted, a laugh rumbling in his chest. “Fine. Call ’em.” A few minutes later, Mom and Dad roared up to the alley entrance on our beat-up old Ford Ranger. The four of us stared at each other in a deeply awkward silence. Mom, a woman whose resting face looked like she was about to demand to speak to the manager, was the first one out. She didn’t hesitate. With a sound like a wet towel snapping, a solid, stinging smack landed across Zack’s face. “Zack Ryder!” she bellowed, using his real name from the missing person’s file, not the fake one he probably used. “You’ve got some damn nerve! Bullying your own flesh and blood!” She grabbed a handful of his bleached hair. “Look at you! No self-respect! You look exactly like your deadbeat father did when he was young!” 1. Zack’s head snapped sideways from the force of the blow. He instinctively raised a hand to strike back, but Mom had already twisted his collar, jerking him forward. She delivered a sharp, functional kick to his kneecap. Zack folded, landing right on his knees in front of Dad. Mom pulled his hair back, forcing him to look at my father. “This is the one, right? The one harassing our daughter?” Dad, Mark Reese, a man whose primary mood was weary resignation, raised his fist. It froze mid-air. “Wait a minute… that face…” “‘That face’ what, Mark? This is your favorite son! The exact same idiot you were twenty years ago!” Mom shoved Zack’s head forward. “Look at the state of him, wearing his school uniform under all that leather! School’s not even out yet, is it? It’s all your fault, Mark! If you didn’t have those weak, criminal genes, our son wouldn’t have turned out like this!” Zack squirmed, trying to escape Mom’s iron grip on his ear. “I’m not your son! Let go of me!” he yelled, face burning red. “A guy’s gotta have some dignity!” Dad didn't hesitate this time. He backhanded Zack across the head. “You rotten little punk! Don’t you talk to your mother that way!” 2. [OMG! What happened? I thought Yellow Hair was supposed to be a total badass?] [Up there, this looks like pure, natural bloodline suppression.] [The Heroine must be flipping out. She sent Yellow Hair to teach the side-character a lesson, and now she’s waiting in class for him to come back and report.] [This side-character’s mom is incredible; she took one look and recognized her son.] [If the side-character hadn’t messed with the Elite Prince, the Heroine wouldn't have been this mad. But now Yellow Hair is going to be dragged to the police station, isn't he?] The comments finally pieced together a rough plot for me. The "Elite Prince" they were talking about had to be Elijah Pierce, my new desk partner. He was a moody loner, but smart. I had no idea what I’d done to "mess with him." I just wanted to borrow his calculus notes—that was it. As for the "Heroine," I didn't know her name, but I figured she was some kind of tough-girl delinquent. So she was the one who had groomed my brother into a punk? My eyes scanned the chaotic scene again. Zack was kneeling off to the side, sulking, his glare at me full of pure, homicidal rage. He looked up at my parents, his voice defiant. “You’ve got the wrong guy! I’m not your son! My name is Tony Diaz!” he insisted. “I grew up in foster care! I don’t know either of you!” Mom ignored him entirely. She elbowed Dad. Dad took a long drag from his cigarette and promptly smacked Zack again. “Still talking back to your mother? In this family, her word is gospel!” Dad squinted. “And you say you’re not Zack Ryder? Look at your face! You’re the spitting image of me when I was young! And if you’re not Zack, why are you shaking so damn much?” 3. Zack looked like he was about to explode, but Mom’s death glare shut him down instantly. He fell silent. Mom told me to get in the truck. They shoved a mortified Zack into the backseat, and we drove home. My parents had never hidden the fact that I had an older brother. Mom got pregnant with me soon after my father started working extra shifts to support a larger family. My brother, Zack, was a sweet, self-reliant kid who walked home from school alone. That was the day the traffickers hit our town. He was gone, and for eighteen years, he was just a ghost in our house. I never thought we’d end up at the same high school. During the drive, Zack kept giving me dark, murderous side-eyes. Every time he did, I just piped up, “Mom, he’s glaring at me.” Eventually, his eyes were sore, and my throat was hoarse. As soon as we got home, Mom dragged Zack straight to his old room. She pulled out a stack of faded photographs, pointing to a picture of a twenty-year-old Dad. “I don’t care what you believe, but I am your mother,” she stated flatly. “You look in the mirror. You look at this picture. Those two faces are the same. Even if you were reduced to ash, I’d know you instantly.” She paused, the threat implicit. “After dinner, you dye that hair back to normal. If you don’t listen, I’m shaving that annoying yellow mess right off your head.” Zack stared at the photo, completely speechless. [Wow, the Heroine’s mom is relentless! Her hurricane personality completely blows away any chance of a sappy moment.] [Aww, the Heroine is probably dying of worry! She’s still at school, and hasn’t even eaten because she’s so concerned about Yellow Hair.] Under Mom’s creative coercion—which included a pair of buzzing electric clippers—Zack ultimately dyed his hair back to a dark brown. After lunch, Mom drove both of us back to Northwood Prep. Zack was several years older than me, but because he’d bounced around in foster care and correctional facilities, he was repeating his Senior Year, just like me. 4. The only difference was, I was the undisputed valedictorian, and he was the undisputed bottom-of-the-barrel student. Mom nearly fainted reading Zack’s transcript. Ultimately, Mom’s word was final. Zack, my long-lost brother, became my new desk partner. “Jenna Reese, you keep a close eye on your brother,” Mom ordered, her voice like grinding stone. “If he even looks at another gang member, you call me immediately!” I nodded eagerly. Before she left, Mom gave Zack’s ear another vicious twist. “You study with your sister. If I hear one more word about you bullying her, I’ll have your father break your legs!” She straightened her jacket. “I’m heading straight to the Registrar’s office right now to transfer your enrollment and finalize your custody!” She leaned in. “Zack Ryder, do you hear me?” Zack was hunched over, thoroughly defeated, but he mumbled one final protest. “We’re at school! I’m a guy, I need some dignity.” He looked up. “Whether I’m your son or not, you could at least give me some respect in front of my peers.” Mom didn’t care about dignity. She rolled up her sleeve, revealing a solid, corded forearm. “I asked you a question. Do. You. Hear. Me?” Zack still hesitated. I immediately grabbed his arm. “Bro, our mom’s got a black belt in the freezer section at Costco, selling fish for a decade. She’s got the strength and the tools. I strongly suggest you listen.” A look passed between us—a shared, immediate understanding of Mom’s terrifying competence. Finally, Zack grumbled, sounding constipated, “Fine. Got it.” Satisfied, Mom finally left. But I should have known better. Zack stayed quiet for exactly two class periods. During the third, he went to the restroom and never came back. I sat in the classroom, watching the comments dance in front of me. [Yellow Hair finally couldn't hold back; he went to find the Heroine.] [The Heroine will find out Yellow Hair failed the mission and will totally beat him up.] [‘Beat up’? No, no. Yellow Hair is the Heroine's personal dog! A mere pawn. He'll get his redemption arc, but he has to make way for the main couple.] 5. Dog? Pawn? I shot up out of my seat. Anyone who dared to disrespect my brother was dead to me. The teacher looked startled. I quickly doubled over, feigning a terrible stomach cramp, and contorted my face into a mask of pain. I was granted an emergency pass. I sprinted toward the gym equipment room. I reached the room just as Zack knelt before the "Heroine," Riley Brooks. Riley looked furious, her cheap hair dye in multiple mismatched colors, not unlike Zack’s earlier look. Even through the window, I could hear her furious screech. “You couldn’t even handle a simple thing like that! And who told you to dye your hair back?” Her voice cracked with genuine rage. “Did you forget what you promised? You’re mine, Zack! You do what I tell you. I just told you to deal with a little bookworm! How hard is that?” Zack, the newly reformed son, actually shuffled closer on his knees, lifting Riley’s foot with embarrassing reverence and placing it squarely on his thigh. I couldn’t watch the rest. I shut my eyes and ran straight for the administration office. [OMG! Yellow Hair is finally smartening up? They've been through so much together. It's totally normal to develop feelings.] [But even if the Side Character and Yellow Hair got together, she wouldn't be happy. The Side Character has had a miserable life; she deserves the Elite Prince and a lifetime of money.] [What's the Supporting Character doing? I thought she'd run in and stop them!] I didn't wait for the comments to finish. I burst through the door of Dean Walker’s office, winded and breathless. “Report! Dean! I need to report! There’s public indecency and possible truancy in the equipment room!” 6. Dean Walker, who knew I was a straight-A student and therefore a reliable source, grabbed his notebook and marched out immediately. Dean Mendez, in charge of discipline, heard the word "indecency" and followed. Adolescent romance? Not on his watch. That meant someone hadn't been morally supervised enough. A few teachers who lived for drama also trailed behind us. Northwood Prep was a top-tier magnet school—teen romance was strictly forbidden. [I swear! The Heroine just kicked Yellow Hair to the ground!] [The way Yellow Hair looks at the Heroine is totally inappropriate.] [Why is the Side Character bringing all the teachers? I thought she’d call her mom!] [Things are getting weird. I thought this was a high school redemption romance? Why is the cannon fodder side character messing up the script?] I ignored the commentary and kicked open the equipment room door. Riley was sitting on my brother, mid-punch, while he looked up at her with a sick, clearly enjoyable expression—the picture of a dedicated simp. “What in God’s name are you two doing in here?” Dean Walker roared. “Zack Ryder, Class 11! Riley Brooks, Class 15! This is utterly inappropriate!” His face was purple. “Get to the office now! You’re students! What is this, dating? Getting romantic in a school facility?” “We’re calling both your parents! Now!” Dean Walker waved his hand and strode off, the crowd of teachers trailing him. Coach Daniels pried a bewildered Zack and Riley apart. Zack spun around and saw me. A flicker of utter defeat, a sense of having been caught by his parole officer, crossed his face. He marched up to me. “You again?” Riley, seeing me for the first time, rushed over. “You must be the little wannabe who’s trying to hook the Elite Prince, right?” she snarled. “Elijah Pierce is mine! This is your lucky day, but you better not be alone when you walk home from school! If I see you by yourself, I promise you, you’ll regret it!” I wasn't afraid of her. 7. The three of us stood in a miserable row in the Dean’s office. Mom, Sharon Reese, having just completed the paperwork to formally claim Zack as her son, rushed into the school after the Dean’s call. She saw me first. Without asking any questions, she delivered a solid, stinging smack across my cheek. “How dare you get yourself into trouble!” Zack, beside me, let out a loud “Pfft!” Before he could even fully laugh, Mom delivered the exact same stinging blow to his head. Riley, whose face was still a mottled mix of anger and entitlement, finally spoke up. She jutted her chin out, staring down my mother with pure aggression.
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