Chapter 7: Public Fallout and New Couple

Seven

The next day, Derek and Lauren went public—walking into homeroom hand-in-hand and posting a matching Instagram story.

They stood at the front for a second like they owned the place. Lauren smiled wide, showing off her dimples. Derek kept his eyes fixed on the back wall. I pretended not to notice.

I wasn’t surprised.

I'd seen it coming—like watching a slow-motion car crash you can't stop. It hurt, but not as much as I thought it would.

Looking back, it was all so predictable.

The signs had been there, stacking up like Jenga blocks until everything toppled.

When Lauren first transferred, her outgoing personality made her popular with the boys.

She could talk about fantasy football or the latest Marvel movie with the best of them. The guys loved her, invited her into their circle without a second thought.

But she rarely hung out with the girls. She’d say:

She’d lean across the lunch table, confiding like we were all in on the same secret.

"Oh, I only like hanging out with guys. It’s easier—no gossiping behind your back. Girls are too scheming, always plotting. I can’t stand it."

She tossed her hair, glancing at us like she expected agreement. Sometimes I caught her watching our group chat with a hint of envy she’d never admit.

"And those little girls are so delicate—one wrong word and they hold a grudge. I can’t get along with them. Guys are easier."

She said it like it was a badge of honor, but it just made the rest of us bristle. A few girls glared; most just ignored her.

Because of this, the girls in class didn’t like her.

We formed our own tight group, whispering in the bathroom, sending group texts during math. Lauren didn’t seem to care.

Lauren would then look at the boys and say helplessly,

She’d sigh dramatically, leaning back in her chair.

"I get it, I shouldn’t have said girls are scheming. Now I’ve really offended them."

Her words always had a way of twisting the truth, making her the victim even when she was the one causing trouble.

"Sigh, now the girls’ clique will ostracize me again. Whatever, I’m used to it."

She said it with a shrug, as if she was above it all. The boys always nodded sympathetically.

So, she made us feel awkward.

She drifted between groups, never really fitting in, always stirring up drama. It was exhausting.

She didn’t hang out with us, saying we were delicate and scheming. But when we ignored her, she accused us of isolating her.

It was a lose-lose situation. No matter what we did, we were in the wrong.

At home, I complained to my parents.

I slumped on the couch, venting my frustration over pizza and soda. My mom listened, nodding, while my dad grumbled about "kids these days."

"Honey, Mom understands how you feel. I’ve met people like that before too. When you meet someone like that, just ignore them. Don’t let them affect you. And definitely don’t get close..."

She reached over, brushing my hair from my face. I nodded, but it didn’t help much.

Derek happened to be at my house and his face turned cold.

He was sprawled in the armchair, headphones around his neck. The second he heard Lauren’s name, his expression changed.

He rarely talked about others in private and couldn’t stand our behavior.

He straightened up, fixing us with a disapproving glare. "Come on, guys, that’s not cool," he said, voice low.

"Mr. Carter, Mrs. Carter, Natalie, it’s not good to talk about others behind their backs."

His words made my dad shift uncomfortably, and my mom pursed her lips. I just looked away, annoyed.

My parents and I were embarrassed and fell silent.

The air in the room got heavy. My dad changed the channel, and my mom busied herself with the dishes. I slunk off to my room, feeling misunderstood.

I later learned that, at some point, he’d already built a close ‘friendship’ with Lauren.

It was all over Instagram—boomerangs of them studying, laughing over bubble tea. I felt sick every time I saw it.

Lauren was good at English and sat in front of Derek, often volunteering to tutor him since his English was poor.

She made a big show of helping him, correcting his grammar with a giggle. He never seemed to mind.

I used to do that, but half a month after Lauren transferred, she naturally took over.

It was like I’d been quietly replaced. No one even noticed.

Lauren also played basketball and got along well with the boys, many of whom were Derek’s close friends, so they naturally became closer.

She’d shoot hoops at lunch, her laughter carrying across the court. The boys loved her—she fit in effortlessly.

Derek’s impression of her changed too—from "the classmate who mocked others on her first day" to "an enthusiastic, cheerful, and straightforward girl."

He talked about her differently now—defended her, even. It hurt more than I wanted to admit.

Derek, who disliked hanging out with girls, quickly accepted Lauren.

He let her sit with him at lunch, texted her during study hall. I watched from across the room, feeling invisible.

In class, he and Lauren passed notes, laughing out loud during lessons.

I tried not to look, but it was impossible to ignore—their laughter, the way they leaned into each other, the secret language they shared.

After school, Lauren sat on his bike pegs, laughing brightly, surrounded by a rowdy group of boys.

They rode past me in a blur of wheels and laughter, Lauren's arms wrapped tight around his waist. I pretended not to care.

I often felt sad and lost because of this, but always told myself they were just friends.

I repeated it like a mantra, hoping it would become true. It never did.

I thought Derek liked me.

I clung to the memories, the moments when he’d looked at me just a little too long. But the past felt far away now.

But I was wrong.

It hit me all at once, like stepping into cold water—sudden, shocking, and impossible to ignore.

"D and I are in a real relationship, not like some people who cling to others under the guise of childhood friendship, giving themselves away for free," Lauren said, sitting on Derek’s lap, smiling.

She looked right at me as she spoke, daring me to react. I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood.

Then she added, meaningfully,

She leaned forward, lowering her voice just enough to make it seem private.

"By the way, I know you girls like to tattle behind people’s backs, but I hope certain classmates won’t report our relationship to the teacher. That would be so petty."

She smirked, flicking her eyes toward me. I looked away, heart pounding.

Derek said nothing.

He kept his gaze fixed on his shoes, jaw tight. I waited for him to defend me, but he never did.

Some classmates congratulated them, some glanced at me.

A few girls shot me sympathetic looks, but most people just shrugged and got back to their lunch. High school drama moved fast.

Everyone knew I liked Derek. I only got close to him, and he only had me by his side.

It was the worst-kept secret in school. People used to joke about our "inevitable wedding." Now they just looked at me with pity.

My deskmate looked at me worriedly, but I kept my head down, focused on reading.

I turned the pages without really seeing them, blinking hard to keep the tears at bay. I wouldn't let them see me break.

The atmosphere was awkward for a moment. Derek snorted and looked away from me.

He cleared his throat, trying to act like nothing was wrong. But I saw the guilt in his eyes.

After that, their relationship only grew closer.

They were inseparable—always together at lunch, walking home in sync, laughing at jokes only they understood.

During breaks, Lauren took off her hair tie and put it on Derek’s wrist, ordering him not to take it off.

He wore it like a badge, twisting it absentmindedly during class. I stared at the elastic, wishing I could rip it off.

In class, they secretly passed notes under the desk, and sometimes Derek would laugh out loud.

The teacher would glare, but they never seemed to care. The rest of us just watched, pretending not to notice.

They ate lunch together, Lauren snatching chicken nuggets from his plate, and Derek letting her. After school, she sat on the back of his bike, holding his waist tightly, like an inseparable couple.

They were everywhere—Instagram stories, group chats, whispered rumors. I felt like I was drowning in reminders.

After ten years together, I was uncomfortable at first, but soon got used to it.

It became background noise—just another thing I tried not to think about. I focused on school, on friends who actually cared.

Just when I thought we’d never cross paths again, after school, Derek stopped me at the school gate.

He blocked my path, hands jammed in his pockets, eyes downcast. The parking lot was mostly empty, the streetlights flickering on overhead.

"Natalie." His tone was heavy, his expression complicated—part angry, part happy. I couldn’t tell.

He sounded like he wanted to say a hundred things but couldn't find the words. I braced myself for another confrontation.

"Lauren called in sick today."

He watched me, waiting for a reaction. I just blinked, confused. Why did that matter to me?

He looked at me as he spoke.

His voice was strained, almost defensive. I could tell he’d been rehearsing this in his head.

I didn’t react at first. What did that have to do with me?

I shrugged, shifting my backpack higher on my shoulder. The air between us crackled with tension.

"What is it?"

I tried to keep my voice steady, but it came out sharper than I intended.

Seeing this, Derek said directly,

He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear.

"What did you say to her?"

His eyes bored into mine, suspicion clouding his features. I felt my hands clench into fists at my sides.

I froze for a moment, then replied, "What could I say to her? I’ve never spoken to her on my own."

I kept my tone flat, but inside I was furious. Why was this always my fault?

I’m not the chatty type, especially with someone like Lauren. I can’t even stand to look at her. If she doesn’t bother me, I wouldn’t talk to her for a year. What could I possibly say?

I let the silence hang, waiting for him to realize how absurd his question was.

Derek’s eyes were full of suspicion as he questioned me.

He crossed his arms, lips pressed tight. I could see the wheels turning in his head—always looking for someone to blame.

"She was fine when I took her home last night, but today she called in sick. When I called to ask what happened, she just cried, saying she was sorry to you and asking you not to be mad. Tell me the truth, what did you say to her? Did you hit her?"

His words were sharp, accusing. My jaw clenched, anger bubbling up inside me.

"Are you out of your mind."

I spat the words out, voice shaking. I was done playing nice.

I didn’t want to argue, so I pushed him away and tried to leave.

His grip tightened on my wrist, holding me in place. I twisted, trying to break free.

A strong grip grabbed my wrist from behind, Derek staring at me like a predator.

His fingers dug into my skin, eyes wild. I yanked harder, panic flaring in my chest.

"Natalie. I know you’re upset about us dating, but you don’t have to do this."

He tried to sound reasonable, but it came out patronizing. I rolled my eyes, refusing to let him see how much it hurt.

"Did you forget? You’re the one who said we should act like strangers. No matter how jealous you are now..."

He trailed off, as if expecting me to protest. I stayed silent, staring at the sidewalk.

He trailed off. After a while, he said in a low voice,

His voice softened, almost pleading. "If you apologize to me, we can pretend nothing happened before and go back to how we were..."

Derek sounded almost desperate, like he couldn’t wait for my response.

He looked at me with hope flickering in his eyes, as if an apology could undo months of pain.

I couldn’t take it anymore and interrupted him.

I jerked my hand away, voice rising. I was done letting him control the narrative.

"Are you crazy! Let go! Who’s apologizing to you? I said I didn’t do anything!"

My words echoed in the empty street. I could see his shock—he’d never heard me yell before.

"You two can date however you want, I’m happy for you, have ten kids for all I care, just leave me alone! Let go!"

I yanked my arm free, rubbing at the red marks left by his grip. My chest heaved with anger and relief.

Derek’s face turned ashen, staring at me in disbelief, but he didn’t let go.

His jaw worked, eyes bright with unshed tears. For a second, I almost felt sorry for him—but not enough to stay.

Just as I was about to struggle, a hand pressed down on Derek’s arm.

A new voice cut through the tension—a calm, steady presence I recognized immediately.

"Hey, that’s no way to treat a girl, is it?"

Caleb’s voice was cool, almost lazy, but there was steel underneath. He stepped between us, breaking Derek’s grip.

I looked over. It was a boy in a school uniform, about our age.

He had messy brown hair and a crooked grin, his backpack slung over one shoulder like he was ready to bolt at any moment.

"Caleb?"

I blurted out, surprise coloring my voice. I hadn’t seen him since the math competition last semester.

Caleb is a senior at our school. I was on the state math competition team with him once.

He was a legend among the underclassmen—captain of the basketball team, top ten in AP Calculus, and always quick with a joke.

But we didn’t interact much, so we weren’t close.

He was friendly, but our worlds rarely overlapped—until now.

I remembered him because his face is truly unforgettable.

Strong jaw, bright eyes, the kind of smile that makes people trust him instantly. He had a tiny scar on his chin from a middle school skateboarding accident—everyone in the math club knew the story.

Why was he here?

I shot him a questioning look, but he just shrugged, as if to say, "Why not?"

Seeing my confusion, Caleb glanced at me and winked mischievously.

He leaned in, dropping his voice. "Thought you could use a rescue."

Then he tightened his grip. Derek’s face darkened.

Caleb’s stance was casual, but his presence was solid—like nothing could move him. Derek glared but didn’t dare fight.

I took the opportunity to break free and ran off without looking back.

My heart pounded as I disappeared into the crowd, grateful for the first time in weeks that someone had taken my side.