Chapter 245
Mariah
The next morning felt heavier than it should have.
Not dramatic–heavy.
Just… weighted.
Like the air outside the school doors knew something I didn’t.
Jessa and I walked in together, our boots squeaking slightly against the damp tile from everyone tracking in melted snow. She was mid–sentence about something her biology teacher said yesterday, animated in that way she gets when she forgets to
overthink herself.
“And I swear he looked at the frog diagram like it personally offended him,” she said. “Like sír, you chose this profession.”
I snorted. “Maybe he wanted dolphins.”
She laughed, bumping her shoulder lightly against mine.
It felt normal.
That’s what’s weird about school.
Everything can feel normal for exactly five seconds before it doesn’t.
The first hint was the
way tw
girls
the water fountain went quiet when we passed.
Not giggling.
Not whispering louder.
Just… stopping.
Jessa didn’t seem to notice.
Or maybe she did and chose not to.
I noticed.
I always notice.
We turned down the hallway toward our lockers, and that’s when I felt it.
Eyes.
Too many of them.
“Okay,” I muttered under my breath. “Why does it feel like we just walked onto a stage?”
Jessa glanced at me. “What?”
“Nothing.”
We got closer.
Closer.
And then I saw it.
My locker.
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My number.
And something white taped across the metal.
I slowed.
Jessa kept walking two more steps before realizing I wasn’t beside her anymore.
“Mariah?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I was staring.
Taped across my locker in thick, aggressive strips of clear packing tape was a printed black–and–white ultrasound image.
Blurry.
Grainy.
And underneath it, in red Sharpie so bold it almost looked angry:
BABY LOMBARDI
For a second, I genuinely thought my brain misfired.
Like maybe I wasn’t seeing what I thought I was seeing.
Jessa stepped up beside me.
She stopped too.
“Oh my God.”
Her voice wasn’t loud.
It didn’t need to be.
The hallway had already gone quiet enough.
Not silent.
But quiet in that deliberate way.
Where everyone is pretending not to look.
But absolutely looking.
My stomach dropped.
Then twisted.
Then hardened.
I didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t give them anything.
Jessa stepped slightly in front of me, like instinct.
“Are you kidding me?” she muttered.
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Her tone surprised me.
It wasn’t shaky.
It was furious.
That snapped something in me.
I stepped around her.
“No,” I said calmly. “Don’t.”
“Mariah-”
“I’m fine.”
Was I?
No.
But I wasn’t going to let whoever did this think they’d rattled me.
I reached up and peeled one corner of the tape.
It stuck stubbornly.
Whoever put it there pressed hard.
Committed.
The paper crinkled as I ripped it down.
The red ink smeared slightly across my fingers.
Baby Lombardi.
Like I’m some cautionary tale.
Like I don’t know how biology works.
Like my entire identity is now some fictional pregnancy.
I crumpled the paper in my fist.
Behind us, someone whispered, “She saw it.”
Another voice hissed, “Shh.”
Cowards.
Jessa’s jaw was tight.
“That’s harassment,” she said quietly. “This isn’t funny.”
I looked at her.
There was something in her eyes I recognized.
History.
She’s been here before.
Maybe not like this.
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But close enough.
Before I could say anything, footsteps approached fast and heavy.
Jackson.
Of course.
He must’ve spotted the crowd forming.
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
Then he saw the tape residue still stuck to the locker.
And the crumpled paper in my hand.
His face went from confused to lethal in about half a second.
“Are you serious?”
Noah came up right behind him.
Shane and Reyes trailing close.
Shane leaned in. “What is it—”
He saw the red smear on my fingers.
“Oh.”
Noah’s eyes moved from me to the locker to Jackson.
His jaw tightened immediately.
“Who did it?” Jackson asked.
Nobody answered.
Nobody ever does.
Shane squinted at the paper in my hand.
“Is that even a real baby ultrasound?” he asked. “That kinda looks like a dog.”
Noah snapped without looking at him.
“Shut up.”
Shane raised his hands. “I’m just saying-”
“That’s not the point,” Noah said sharply.
He was right.
It didn’t matter what it was.
It mattered that someone thought it would be funny to tape it to my locker.
To label me.
To reduce me.
Jackson stepped closer to me.
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“You okay?” he asked low.
I met his eyes.
He wasn’t embarrassed.
He wasn’t awkward.
He was angry.
Protective.
That mattered more than anything.
“I’m not pregnant,” I said flatly.
That got a couple uncomfortable laughs from nearby.
Good.
Let them feel awkward.
Jackson’s eyes flicked toward the hallway.
“I swear to God,” he muttered.
“Don’t,” I said quickly.
He looked back at me.
“Don’t go nuclear in the hallway.”
He exhaled through his nose.
Noah stepped forward slightly.
“Coach is already dealing with the I*******m account,” he said. “This… just made it worse.”
Jessa crossed her arms.
“They think they’re funny,” she said. “They think this is clever.”
I looked down at the red smear on my fingers.
The truth?
It hurt.
Not because I believed it.
But because it was invasive.
Because it followed me home.
Because it crawled into my family’s life.
Because it turned something intimate into hallway entertainment.
But I wasn’t giving them tears.
Not today.
I straightened.
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“Honestly?” I said, loud enough for the hallway to hear. “If I was going to fake a pregnancy, I’d at least use a human ultrasound. This is embarrassing.”
A ripple went through the crowd.
Someone laughed.
Not at me.
At the situation.
Good.
Take the power back.
Jackson stared at me for half a second.
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