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“And I promise you,” I add softly, “if you do more than walk by her in the hall or sit in the same class, I’ll make sure you don’t play football next season. At least, not at this school.”

Murphy swallows. “You’re bluffing.”

“You wanna test that?” I snort. “My dad has a lot of connections, but Isla’s dad could fucking destroy your NFL dreams with a snap of his fingers.”

Murphy blinks rapidly while Dixon wipes his hands on his jeans. It’s like the idiots forgot all about Xander Walker when they chose to mess with his kid.

“I-I wasn’t the one who filmed it,” Dixon mutters.

“But you posted it.” Ash steps up beside me. “Sent it to the school chat for everyone to see.”

“You know what?” I point at them in turn with my broken hand. “I’m gonna add a few more rules. You delete that video from your phone and from the chat. You find the person who recorded it and make sure they delete it. Then, you’re gonna make sure no one fucking dares to mess with her again. Am I clear?”

Murphy rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, y-yeah. We’ll do that.”

“Yeah.” Dixon pulls his phone out of his pocket, taps a few times, then shows it to me. “It’s gone. I know who sent it to me, so I’ll talk to him, make him delete it.”

“Okay.” I step back, giving them space. “Glad we understand each other.”

“We better go,” Murphy mutters, standing.

Dixon joins him, eyeing me, chewing on his cheek. “You’re not gonna say anything to her dad, right?”

“Not if you do what I told you.”

He nods, and then they’re gone, rushing away.

After the door shuts behind them, I slump onto the bench and stare at the row of lockers ahead of me. I’m angry with Isla, and I’m nowhere near forgetting what happened, but that video fucking ruined me. She didn’t deserve to be ridiculed like that.

“You gonna tell her you did this?” Ash drops beside me, elbows on his knees.

“No. We’re done. Whatever we had is over.”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “You say that like you’re trying to convince yourself, not me.”

“I’m not.” I dig my fingers into the edge of my cast, roughly scratching at my skin. “I don’t owe her anything.”

“But you still care.” He nudges my shoulder. “You wouldn’t have snapped like that if you didn’t.”

My chest constricts, almost suffocating me. I stand abruptly. “I don’t care about her. I just didn’t want those idiots bullying her. No one deserves that.”

He snorts, slapping his thighs. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Fuck you,” I spit, storming out.

It’s been a long fucking day.

My laptop is perched on my bed, Blue Lock playing. Isla got me into anime a long time ago. I may have acted like I only watched it with her because I was a good friend, but, in reality, I like it too. This one is particularly good at distracting me from all the gloomy thoughts swirling inside my head.

Another practice spent sitting in the stands, and I’m still fuming over the stupid assholes at school and that video. Dammit.

When a knock sounds on my door, I hit pause. “Come in.”

The door creaks open, and Mom pokes her head in. “Hey.” She scans the room, homing in on me. “Can we talk for a moment?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

Quietly, she pads into the room and perches on the edge of the bed. “I know you still aren’t talking to Isla, but I thought you should know…”