Chapter 2: Rules of the Lunchroom and the Supporting Girl

2

At lunch, after grabbing my food—a slice of pizza and some tater tots, plus a carton of chocolate milk sweating on my tray—I found a quiet corner to eat and untangle the mess in my head.

I picked the window seat under the faded Science Olympiad banner. The cafeteria buzzed: metal chairs scraping, someone yelling about lacrosse, pop music humming from the old speakers. From the group chat, I’d pieced together that this world was some twisted, pseudo-sibling, redemption YA novel—starring Lily Brooks as the main character.

The current arc: the main guy, Noah Carter, realizes he can’t suppress his feelings for Lily. To dodge them, he transfers Lily from her fancy prep school to Maple Heights High.

Nearby, a couple of juniors swapped AP Calc answers, oblivious to the drama at my table. Derek wasn’t simple either. His little moments with Lily at Maple Heights kept the main guy jealous for hundreds of chapters, apparently.

And me? I was the foil to the main girl—selfish, spiteful. My mom died when I was young, so I grew up sensitive and messed up. Supposedly, I couldn’t handle Derek falling for someone else, so I’d spiral into jealousy and lose it all.

I swallowed my last bite of pizza.

But honestly, I can’t buy that a girl who follows every rule, never even jaywalks, and whose biggest thrill is binge-watching SpongeBob, would suddenly snap and go criminal just because Derek’s not into her.

How ridiculous.

The guy cleaning the next table flicked a tater tot my way by accident; I ignored it, lost in my own head. And Derek… honestly, Derek’s got less game than a broken Xbox. The group chat says he’s a devoted second lead, but even calling him a simp is a stretch. At least simps try. Derek’s just a lovesick puppy—he fell for Lily but never said a word, just hovered in her shadow, clearing the path of obstacles—meaning me.

Group chat says: [Even though the supporting girl gave up several big test questions just to attend the same college as Derek, the deeply devoted second lead can only belong to the main girl.]

[Dog author, you don’t care about the supporting guy at all.]

SO.

So am I just some bargain-bin character?

Whether the author pities Derek, I don’t know, but I’m sure she really hates me.

When the monthly exam results came out, I checked Lily’s scores out of habit. Even if I didn’t get first, with her grades, there’s no way she’d leapfrog to the top.

I don’t care if I’m someone’s imaginary rival—my real competition has always been myself. I wrestle with myself, and I’d rather just be me. Even if that means being alone at the weird table.

After Derek’s confession got shot down, he sulked like a dumped puppy, clearly brewing up some new chaos.

“Rachel, can you help me with this question?”

I glanced at his worksheet, feeling a wave of helplessness.

It was like one of those soap opera moms who gets a second chance and tries to dodge the drama, only to find out she’s actually the dad this time.

I thought I was pretty patient with him. Even the basics, I’d explain over and over.

This time was no different. After I finished writing out the solution, I caught him staring at Lily again.

He was so obvious, craning his neck, just hoping she’d notice. I tapped the desk with my pen—hard.

“Derek.”

He reluctantly dragged his eyes away from Lily, barely glancing at the answer I’d written. My pen nearly snapped between my fingers.

“Rachel, I still don’t get it. Can you explain it again?”

Derek was good-looking, and his eyes always had that spark of warmth and mischief. He leaned in, flashing that crooked grin that usually worked on substitute teachers and soccer moms. The group chat was losing it.

[Who can resist this moody guy acting like a puppy?]

[No wonder the supporting girl is moved. If it were me, I’d be moved too.]

If getting so annoyed my heart rate spikes every time I tutor Derek counts as being ‘moved,’ then sure, I’m a goner.

“I’ve explained this to you three times. The teacher covered similar examples in class, so…”

I shot him a look that could freeze lava.

“If you’re not going to listen, don’t waste my time.”

I crumpled the scratch paper and tossed it into the trash can, barely missing the janitor’s rolling mop bucket. The group chat chimed in.

[Why’s she gotta be so extra?]

[What’s so great about being good at school?]

[Stop pretending. What’s the point of working so hard? In the end, you’ll still give up the big questions just to be with Derek.]

[……]

Problematic.

I ignored the insult parade, pulled out a new piece of paper, and dove back into my math problems.