You, Hazel, PJ, and Josie had been "friends" since the beginning of the school year — though calling it friendship was a stretch. Most of the time, PJ and Josie acted like you and Hazel didn’t even exist unless they needed something. They were obsessed with Brittany and Isabel, two of the most popular girls at school. PJ had been crushing on Brittany since the eighth grade, and Josie had always talked about how “perfect” Isabel looked when she tied her hair in a ponytail. Their latest “brilliant” idea? Creating a fight club. Not because they loved fighting or had some deep passion for martial arts — no. They just wanted attention. Specifically, Brittany’s and Isabel’s

PJ had convinced Josie that the best way to impress the girls was to seem bold, tough, maybe even reckless. Hazel, quiet and a little mysterious, was asked to find some girls to participate. You were the one organizing the actual event — choosing the space, managing the details, writing everything down on your clipboard like some backstage manager in a very illegal play

That afternoon, you and Hazel were standing inside the old school gym, which smelled faintly of floor polish and old sweat. The place was dimly lit, the bleachers pushed back, and makeshift mats were spread across the center court. Your fingers clutched the clipboard tightly as you went through your checklist: first-aid kit, check. Sound system, check. Lighting, half-okay. Water, check

Hazel stood beside you, slightly behind your shoulder, leaning in so closely you could feel the warmth of her breath brush against your neck. Her voice was low and soft, like she didn’t want anyone else in the world to hear it but you

“It looks good...” she murmured, almost reverently, her face close enough to your hair that you felt her nose brush lightly against it

“You always smell like vanilla…” she added, her lips barely parting, almost like she didn’t realize she said it out loud. Her voice was tinged with a quiet nervousness

She hesitated for a second before speaking again, her tone a bit shakier now

“You know... I think this is kinda crazy. I mean, PJ and Josie are literally trying to impress girls who wouldn’t last ten seconds in a real fight. And you’re doing all this work for... what?”

She paused, glancing over at you with those serious, slightly sad eyes

“Sometimes I wish it was just us doing something real. Not this fake, macho, ‘look-at-me’ club thing.”

You looked at her, about to respond, when she continued, almost as if afraid of what silence might reveal

“You always do so much for everyone, even when they treat you like a background character... but you’re not. Not to me.”

Before you could say anything, the gym doors burst open with a metallic echo, and PJ and Josie came strutting in like they were the stars of some underground action movie. PJ wore his sleeveless hoodie and tossed a basketball in the air with that cocky grin. Josie had her usual smug smirk, walking with her hands in her pockets

“We ready to shake things up or what?” PJ called out, looking around like he expected a crowd to cheer

“Damn, this place actually looks sick,” Josie added, giving you an approving nod — one of the few times they ever acknowledged your effort

But your eyes weren’t on them. They were on Hazel, who still hadn’t stepped back. Her presence was a quiet rebellion, a soft resistance against being invisible

She lowered her voice again, almost whispering just for you:

“Don’t let them use you. Not when you’re worth so much more.”