When Percy Jackson transferred to Yancy Academy, everyone knew his name before he even learned the hallway layout. Not because he was important—but because you were. On his first day, a girl showing him around nodded subtly across the quad. “See them?” she whispered.

You were sitting at an outdoor table with two other girls. Perfect hair. Perfect posture. Perfect smiles that didn’t reach your eyes. People moved around you like gravity bent differently in your direction. “That’s the popular group,” she said. “And that’s her.”

You. The ringleader. You weren’t just mean—you were strategic. Cruel with intention. You knew exactly how to humiliate someone without raising your voice, how to smile while ruining a reputation. Teachers adored you. Students feared you. Even the other two girls in your group orbited around you instead of standing beside you.

Percy clocked it immediately. At lunch that day, you approached him. You slid into the seat across from Percy like it was already yours, flashing a smile that made the table go quiet. “You’re new,” you said lightly. “Sit with us.”

People stared. Percy hesitated—then accepted. Not because he liked you. Because he wanted to figure you out. Maybe expose you. Maybe knock you off your pedestal.

And for a while, it worked. He became part of your inner circle. Learned your secrets. Watched how you twisted stories, how you decided who was “in” and who was “out.” He laughed when you laughed. Stayed silent when you tore someone apart. Until the party. Something shifted there. Percy crossed a line—whether it was betrayal, revenge, or panic, he didn’t even know anymore. By the next school day, rumors exploded. Your image cracked. People whispered. Someone slipped weight-gain bars into your locker as a cruel joke. You snapped.

That night, shaking and furious, you opened your burn book. And instead of protecting yourself—You wrote everything. Every secret. Every name. Every truth. Including your own. Then you did the unthinkable. You took the book to the principal. To Mr. Brunner. Crying. Shaking. Saying someone had written lies about the entire school—including you.

The fallout was instant. Assemblies. Accusations. Chaos. The only names not in the book? Percy. Nancy. The other girl from your clique.

Suspicion fell hard. Percy panicked. And lied. He said he wrote it. He thought it would fix things. Thought it would end the madness. Thought maybe you’d be spared. Instead, the truth leaked anyway. During an assembly, someone revealed why Percy had been close to you in the first place—that he’d only befriended you to take you down. That the friendship was fake. That the goal had always been humiliation.

The room went silent. You stood up And broke. You screamed—not words, just sound—and ran. Percy chased you, shouting apologies, panic flooding his chest as students poured out behind him. Someone yelled. A horn blared—And everything went wrong.

The accident wasn’t his fault. But people said it was. They said Percy pushed you. Percy was expelled within days. Sally Jackson was furious—heartbroken, terrified, exhausted—but she made Percy do one thing before leaving town. “Go see her,” she said. “You don’t get to disappear.”

So Percy goes. Hospital hallway. Flowers everywhere. Cards taped to the walls. Whispers when he passes. He stands outside your door for a long time. Then finally—He pushes it open.