IT HAD BEEN TWO WEEKS SINCE THE CHAOS AT WEST VALLEY HIGH, BUT THE WORLD HADN'T MOVED ON. NOT REALLY.

Hayden's gaze flicked up to the TV, her eyes narrowing as a news anchor's voice filled the room.

"Two weeks ago today, what can only be described as an all-out karate riot broke out at West Valley High, leaving students and faculty stunned and sending shockwaves through the Valley."

Hayden clenched her jaw, a pit forming in her stomach. She already knew where this was headed. She just didn't expect to see her own face flashing across the screen.

"We're still awaiting statements from several teens involved, including the one at the center of it all: Hayden Sanders."

Her mouth went dry as the familiar photo of her appeared. She looked away instinctively, her brow twitching in frustration. It didn't matter that she wasn't the one who started it. The world didn't care about details—just blame.

The broadcast shifted to a shot of the school, zooming in on the second-floor balcony where it all went down. The anchor's voice turned graver.

"Police are still searching for Robby Keene, who fled the scene after kicking fellow student Miguel Diaz off the second floor. Diaz landed here on this very staircase."

Hayden swallowed hard, the reporter's words bringing back the image she couldn't seem to shake—the image of Miguel's broken body lying on those cold steps, bruised and lifeless.

"Keene has since been expelled, while Diaz remains in a coma at West Valley General. Doctors have reported that his condition remains critical—"

Her eyes fixed on the screen, locking onto the photo of Miguel, smiley and healthy. The familiar tightness gripped her throat, tears stinging her eyes before she even realized it. She quickly grabbed the remote and shut off the TV, plunging the room into silence. But it wasn't enough to drown out the echo of the anchor's voice in her head.

Hayden sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at her phone as tears threatened to spill. She rubbed her eyes hard, trying to will them away, trying to stay composed. She hated how fragile she felt, how guilt gnawed at her from the inside out.

The walls of her room felt like they were closing in on her, suffocating her. She glanced at her phone again—7:38 p.m. The hours stretched endlessly when you were stuck in the same place, trapped with your thoughts and regrets.

Two weeks. Two weeks of feeling helpless. Two weeks of being locked up, cut off from everyone, slowly unraveling.

Hayden let out a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair. She had to get out. Staying cooped up wasn't helping—if anything, it was making things worse. But what could she do? Everywhere she went, she was either a suspect, a villain, or the girl who couldn't stop the fight that put Miguel in the hospital.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, trying to piece together a plan in her mind. All she knew was one thing—this couldn't go on much longer. Something had to give.

—

Hayden Sanders was troubled, hard to love, hard to control, and a total lost cause.

That's what the suitcases maniacally whispered to her as she stared at it with clenched fists.

Filled top to bottom with her clothes, shoes, posters, everything she's ever owned packed away, that she most certainly didn't pack herself. She knew who did, though.

Clearwater Academy.
The name was practically stamped on the luggage, even if it wasn't.

She scoffed bitterly, dropping her skateboard with a clatter, eyes fixed on the suitcases like they were radioactive. Her jaw tightened, but she didn't say a word. Instead, she crouched down and began yanking her clothes out in messy handfuls, tossing them carelessly across the floor. She unrolled her posters, smoothing out the creases as if by instinct, pretending like none of this was real.

"You leave tomorrow," Esme said from behind her, voice too steady, too calm. Hayden didn't bother turning around at first. She narrowed her eyes, hands pausing over her clothes before she slowly rose to her feet, turning to face her mother.

"Over my dead body."

"Hayden..." Esme sighed, exhaustion lining every word. "I don't want to do this anymore. I can't—"

"Can't what? Can't do your job? You don't want to be a parent anymore?" Hayden snapped, her voice rising in pitch. "Logan was getting high when she was my age, and guess what? You didn't send her away!"

"That's different, and you know it," Esme shot back, voice hardening. "You knew the deal—one more fight, Hayden. One more, and you were done. All you had to do was stay out of trouble, and you couldn't even do that!"

Hayden let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head as she tangled her fingers in her hair, trying to contain her frustration—or maybe just the growing migraine pounding in her skull.

"So what's your solution? Ship me off, wipe your hands clean, pretend I don't exist?" She stepped forward, her gaze sharp, defiant. "You put me on a plane, I'll get off before it leaves the ground. You drive me? I'll jump out of the car."

"Hayden, stop—"

"No!" she snapped, voice trembling now, a dangerous mix of anger and something rawer, something she refused to let surface. "You think I'm the problem? Fine. But don't pretend you're doing this for me. You're just tired, right? Tired of having a daughter who's too much for you."

Esme's lips parted, but no words came out. For a moment, they just stood there— mother and daughter, caught in a battle neither of them knew how to win.

And Hayden wasn't backing down. She never did.

"You wanna kick me out? Wipe your hands of me? Fine. I'll go, I'll leave. But I'm not going to that stupid ass brainwash camp."

Hayden grabbed her skateboard again, and Esme's heart sank as the familiar dread crept in. "Where are you going?" she asked, her voice tight with unease.

"To find Robby," Hayden muttered distractedly, eyes glued to her phone. She tapped the screen again, checking for any missed calls or messages from him—just in case. Nothing. Thirteen missed calls, and still no answer.

This would be her seventh time in the past three days checking different routes, homeless shelters, abandoned cars looking for Robby.

"Robby," Esme repeated, incredulity dripping from her tone. "You mean the delinquent who pushed that boy off the railing?" Her voice rose with each word, practically shaking the room.

Hayden flinched slightly at the volume but quickly recovered, tilting her head in that indifferent way she always did when she didn't want to care. "The one and only," she said flatly, thumb swiping across her phone screen as if her mom's outrage barely registered. She stared at the glaring number next to the missed calls, jaw clenching in frustration.

"You're going after that kid? The same one who put someone in the hospital?" Her voice rose, each word harsher than the last. "He's a bad kid, Hayden. I won't let you get sucked into his mess."

Hayden clenched her jaw, taking a slow, deep breath before turning to face her mom, her expression cold and steady. "You don't even know him." Her voice was quiet but firm, laced with restrained anger. "You've never spoken to him, never seen how he actually is."

Esme crossed her arms, her stance rigid. "I don't need to know him. His actions speak for themselves. Kids like him— they ruin lives, Hayden. You think he's your friend? He's going to drag you down with him."

"No," Hayden said sharply, taking a step forward. "Robby's a good person. He's just been through a lot. He's made mistakes, sure, but that doesn't make him a lost cause. If anything, I dragged him down with me!"

"A mistake? Is that what you call kicking someone off a railing?" Esme scoffed in disbelief. "So, what? That Diaz kid just had it coming? Brush it off as a 'mistake' and move on?"

Hayden narrowed her eyes into slits. "No," She sucked in a sharp breath, knowing that if she didn't she'd lose her shit, and quick. "Don't put words in my mouth. Nobody deserves that, and I, as well as the whole Valley, sympathizes for Miguel. But no one's sympathizing for Robby. He's all alone right now, and no one deserves that."

"You don't see it now, but he's pulling you under," Esme said through gritted teeth. "One day, you're going to realize that kid's not worth it, but by then, it'll be too late."

Hayden stared at her for a moment, something flickering in her eyes— disappointment, maybe, or frustration. "You don't get it. He's not some reckless kid out to hurt people. He's just a kid who's never had a good influence to look up to." She paused, her voice softening slightly. "You don't know what that's like— to be all alone, all the time."

"Hayden—"

"No," Hayden cut her off, shaking her head. "You want to blame him because it's easier than looking at yourself. Easier than admitting that maybe I didn't turn out this way on my own." Her voice cracked slightly, but she pressed on, unwavering. "Robby's not the problem. He's the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely. So, don't talk about him like you know him."

Esme took a breath, trying to stay composed, but there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes now. "I just want what's best for you, Hayden. And Robby? He's not it."

"Robby's not perfect. Neither am I. But he's a good person trying to be better, and I'm not going to let you tell me I can't be around someone who actually gets it. Someone who understands what it's like to have the odds stacked against you."

Without waiting for a response, Hayden turned on her heel, skateboard clutched tightly under her arm, and walked out. Esme stood frozen in the doorway, watching helplessly as her daughter disappeared down the street, heart heavy with the weight of words left unsaid.

—

Truthfully, Hayden didn't have a plan. Not when it came to finding Robby. Not when it came to anything. She just kept moving, kept searching, because stopping meant thinking— and thinking wasn't the best thing for Hayden right now.

She started with the obvious places. He wasn't with the LaRussos. That was a given. He wouldn't go back to his dad's either. Too much baggage, too many burned bridges. She tried his old apartment, but it was cold and empty, just like it had been the last time he left it behind. Still, she stood outside the door for longer than she'd admit, half-expecting him to appear out of nowhere, like he always used to.

When that didn't happen, she got desperate. She called a few juvenile halls, clenching the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. Each time she asked if Robby Keene was there, her heart pounded in her chest, hoping for an answer but dreading it at the same time. All she got was the same cold response: No record of that name.

With nowhere else to turn, she figured homeless shelters were her next best bet. He had to be somewhere, right? Somewhere safe. Somewhere warm. She hit three different places in Reseda, each one more bleak than the last, but no one had seen him.

No Robby.

She didn't know where to go from there. She didn't know where he would go. She felt completely helpless.

It wasn't until she found herself standing in front of the Reseda Hospital that she realized her feet had carried her here without her even thinking about it. She stared up at the massive building, its bright lights harsh against the night sky. Somewhere inside, Miguel lay in a coma, unmoving, trapped in a limbo between life and death.

And she had put him there.

The weight of that truth hit her like a punch to the gut. Her chest tightened, her breathing growing shallow. She gripped her skateboard as if it were the only thing keeping her upright.

She didn't know how long she stood there—minutes, maybe longer. She wanted to go in, wanted to see him, but she couldn't make herself move. What would she even say if she did? Sorry I let my anger ruin your life? Sorry I wasn't strong enough to stop this from happening? Sorry I broke you?

Tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them away furiously. She didn't cry. She didn't fall apart. That wasn't who she was. Falling apart didn't fix things. Falling apart didn't bring people back.

But right now, standing outside this hospital, it felt like the only thing she could do.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, jolting her back to reality. She wiped her face quickly, pulling it out with trembling hands. Another missed call from her mom. Another text telling her to come home.

She ignored it.

Instead, she scrolled down to Robby's contact, her finger hovering over the call button. She thought about calling him one more time, praying that maybe this time he'd answer. But what would she say if he did?

I'm sorry, Robby. I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't mean to lose you too.

But she didn't press call. Instead, she tucked the phone back into her pocket, stood up, and took a deep breath. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't have a plan. But she wasn't done searching yet.

—

Hayden didn't find Robby that day.

Deep down, she hadn't expected to— but every day he was missing, the gnawing worry in her chest grew sharper, sinking deeper into her gut like claws that wouldn't let go. She couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was happening to him, that maybe he was out there somewhere needing help, and she wasn't there to give it.

Now, she sat on the couch, arms folded tightly across her chest. She wasn't reading. The TV was off. Her phone lay discarded on the table, powered down. She just sat there, eyes staring ahead, fixed on nothing in particular, lost in an endless void.

Going to sleep wasn't an option. Not anymore. Not since the fight.

Because when she did sleep, it always came back. The fight. The sound. That horrifying sound of Miguel's body hitting the metal railing, the sickening crack of his back that seemed to echo endlessly in her mind. The look on his face as he reached for her, just before he fell. The helplessness in his eyes— and the guilt that swallowed her whole when she couldn't save him.

Each time she closed her eyes, it played out again in slow motion, and she couldn't stop it. She'd wake up gasping for air, sweat clinging to her skin, her heart racing like she was still standing at the edge of that railing, watching him fall. Watching the aftermath unfold in front of her while her world shattered around her.

She felt responsible. She was responsible. She'd thrown the first punch. She'd let her anger get the better of her, and now Miguel was lying in a hospital bed, and Robby was gone, and she was the one everyone blamed. Maybe they were right. Maybe she was the problem.

She felt like a failure. She'd let everyone down—Robby, Miguel, Mr. LaRusso, even herself. The only person she had ever seen as a father figure probably hated her now. And now, her own mom didn't even want her around. Sending her away was Esme's way of saying she'd given up.

"What're you thinking about?" A familiar voice cut through the silence, drawing her back to reality.

Hayden glanced up slowly, her expression stoic as Esme stood in the doorway, arms crossed in that same way Hayden had so often mimicked. Speak of the devil.

"Nothing." Hayden's voice was flat, emotionless.

"You've been sitting there for hours. You can't keep doing this to yourself."

And she hated herself for the idea that popped into her head. It wasn't the most ethical option, that was for sure. But it was a last-minute effort to cling to the life she grew accustomed to. Even if it meant manipulating her mom.

Hayden scoffed under her breath, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. "Don't worry. Won't be your problem much longer, right?" she muttered bitterly.

Esme sighed, stepping closer. "Hayden, this isn't about not wanting you around—"

"Really?" Hayden's voice rose slightly, eyes narrowing. "Because it sure feels like it. You think sending me away to some boarding school is gonna magically fix everything? Newsflash, Mom, I'm not broken. I didn't choose for any of this to happen. I was defending myself. That's all I ever do— defend myself. And I'm getting shit for it."

"That wasn't just self-defense, Hayden." Esme's tone was firm, but not unkind. "You went too far. You let your anger take over, and someone got hurt. Badly."

Hayden flinched, the horrifying crack of Miguel's back echoing in her head, the memory of his limp body hitting the railing flashing behind her eyes. She could still hear her own voice screaming his name, still feel the cold knot of guilt in her chest every time she tried to sleep, only to wake up drenched in sweat.

Hayden clenched her jaw, her hands curling into fists in her lap. "I know that, okay? You think I don't know that? You think I don't hear that sound every time I close my eyes? The sound of his back hitting the railing, the way he looked at me like I was supposed to save him and I didn't. I can't stop thinking about it, and I don't know how to make it go away. But sending me away isn't gonna help. It's just gonna make me feel even more alone."

Esme hesitated, clearly taken aback by the raw vulnerability in her daughter's voice. "Hayden, I—"

Then she looked up, just enough vulnerability in her gaze to make Esme pause. "I just don't understand why you're giving up on me now. I thought you believed in me. I thought you got it. You know what it's like to grow up without good influences, to have to fight for yourself because no one else will. Robby's the same. He's just a kid who's been through a lot, just like me. And yeah, maybe we made mistakes, but that doesn't mean we're lost causes."

Esme's brows furrowed. "This isn't about giving up. It's about keeping you safe. You've been spiraling, and I—"

"Spiraling?" Hayden interrupted, her voice rising slightly. "I defended myself. That's all I've ever done—defend myself. And now I'm being punished for it? Shipped away like I don't belong here?"

For a long moment, Esme said nothing, just studied her daughter's face. She saw the pain, the guilt, but also the strength and determination that had always defined Hayden.

"You think I don't hate myself for everything that happened? I haven't slept in days because every time I close my eyes, I see it. I hear it. And yeah, I know I screwed up. But I don't need you to send me away to some place full of strangers to remind me of that. I need... I need someone who believes I can fix it. Someone who doesn't just give up the second things get hard."

Esme hesitated, the weight of her daughter's words pressing down on her. She didn't want to send Hayden away. She didn't want to lose her. But she was scared—scared of what might happen if she didn't do something drastic.

"Hayden..." Esme started, softer this time.

"Please, Mom. Just give me a chance to figure this out. I'll stay out of trouble. I'll fix things with Miguel, with... everyone. Just don't send me away. Don't give up on me."

Silence hung heavy between them. Hayden held her breath, knowing this was her final card to play. If Esme didn't bite, she was out of options.

Finally, Esme sighed, running a hand over her face. "One chance, Hayden. One. If I see even the slightest sign that you're slipping again..."

"I won't," Hayden cut in quickly. "I promise."

Esme didn't look convinced, but she gave a reluctant nod. "Fine. But you're on thin ice."

Hayden exhaled slowly, her heart still racing. She'd bought herself some time. Barely. But for now, it was enough.

authors note.
I feel like first chapters of every season is always the most boring to write omfg this made me get stuck in several places but it'll get better hopefully going from hereee maybe double update cuz i have the timeeee today yayy