"BJ! I NEED THE FINAL layout of pages eight to eleven!" Delaney's yell permeates every corner of the press room.

"I'm not doing page eleven, Leah is!" A moment passes, "Don't call me BJ!"

A roar of frustration can be heard even from here, where Kyler and I are stitching together all the individual components of the newspaper. The copies were supposed to be printed by now, so we could deliver them after school but there was a delay with Leah's Scenic column — and here we are, at school on a Sunday, trying to get the final copies printed and in the racks for tomorrow morning.

If I'm being honest, the more I try to help the more I get in Kyler's way. I think he just appreciates having me around for moral support and the occasional aesthetic consult. Drew finished his entertainment reviews astonishingly quickly and went to more shops yesterday and got a few more coupons to put in. Delaney is also done, she finished both her Honestly, Delaney Morrison and advice column yesterday.

So they're both in a similar position to me: bored, sore and cranky because Kyler, Benjamin and Leah won't let us leave. Drew and Delaney are spinning absentmindedly on the swivel chairs that overpopulate the press room, stopping and twirling the other way when the circular motion becomes too dizzying.

I think none of us anticipated Carsonville to be so full of things for teenagers to do. Leah found so many things to write about and now she's having trouble deciding what to put in and leave out. Kyler told her to only write about one place at a time, otherwise Carsonville's youthful hideouts would get exhausted pretty quickly.

As per request, Benjamin decided to put in more riddles, jokes, crosswords and word finds into the games pages. He and Kyler even came up with more features to put in, to the point of it becoming like an activity book.

Finally, the three old, bulky print machines start whirring and the big roll of blank newsprint attached to its many mechanisms begins to move along the conveyor belt-like contraption, coming out the other side with black ink on it. Kyler comes out of the computer room, with Leah and Benjamin, rubbing his hands over his face and hair.

"Okay! Good work, team! Now we just have to deliver them," he says cheerfully.

Simultaneous groans emerge from all of us, as the machines keep spewing paper.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Come the start of a new school week, my eyes are flickering from student to student, looking for any of the newspapers.

I am not disappointed. For every group I see, at least one newspaper can be seen between fingers or spread across knees. After ensuring that none of the Monarchy are around, a smile nestles onto my lips.

Everyone can tell the newspaper has changed drastically, and employed new students — but no-one knows exactly who is now working for the Chronicle. I'd like to keep that anonymity, actually, because it means I can comfortably watch the impact we've had on the school without too much spectacle.

My good mood lasts through homeroom class, until I walk into AP Calculus. A peculiar sight greets me. Benjamin hunches over his workbook at his usual desk, dutifully reading even before Mr. Weston has arrived. Preparation is a trademark habit of his and seeing that would calm me down on a regular day, if not for Derek.

The first thing to alarm me is how close Derek is to Benjamin, a palm on the wood and leaning over him so as to talk without being heard. The second is Benjamin's reaction: tense shoulders that flinch almost imperceptibly each time Derek's mouth moves. Benjamin clutches a pencil, knuckles white and clenched. It seems to me that more than just the pencil is on the verge of snapping.

Quietly making my way over there, I drop my books onto the desk next to Benjamin's with an obvious thud. The gesture was intended to fracture the menacing atmosphere that has taken hold in this part of the room, and it works. Derek breaks away from Benjamin as both boys turn to look at me.

"Hello, boys. Everything okay?" I'm not afraid of Derek now that Reece and Terrence have shown me the pitfalls of the Monarchy. Derek himself was said to want to run Brittany over with his motorcycle, which means he's just as cowardly as the rest of his friends because he won't do it. He won't walk away.

Derek acknowledges me passively yet makes no effort to disguise the hostility between him and Benjamin. He simply strolls to the back of the class and takes a seat wordlessly.

My eyes wander to Benjamin, stubbornly staring at his workbook but not reading or writing. Not even blinking, actually. "What was that about?"

"Derek kindly dropped by to tell me that the stunt we pulled with redesigning the newspaper made Brittany angry and vengeful. So I, naturally, told him to do his worst, and he said—" He sucks in a breath and forcibly releases his pencil, stretching his fingers out to resume the blood flow. "—Brittany wants us to pay. So after the Mathletes season is over, the team is getting cancelled."

As his words sink in, my cheeks heat up. I wish I had a pencil to snap right now. My rationale reminds me that he is only relaying Brittany's command, and not to shoot the messenger. But honestly, I've always been better at coming up with advice than listening to it. "They wouldn't fucking dare. The athletic programme here is inflated enough, and now they want to tip the balance even more?"

"I know all this, Soph. The only silver lining to this is that we have some time to find a way around it, because the Mathletes season just started."

"Call it what it is, Benjamin. It's not a silver lining. Why would you try to make this seem better than it is?"

"Because!" he exclaims, drawing more than one pair of curious eyes. He clears his throat. "Because there's nothing else I can do. Derek has interfered once already with my business, and he'll do it again. He'd love to do it again, actually."

My eyes soften at his defeated voice. "There must be something. There is always something to be done."

"Win the championship, I guess. There's a cash prize, and a lot of recognition for the winning school, so maybe if we win Principal Fisher will have to keep the Mathletes team." Benjamin finally starts writing on one of the many papers scattered on his desk.

I sigh. "I thought Brittany would have gotten the message by now. You know, the incident with the newspaper should have taught her a lesson. We'll just save both."

Benjamin chuckles bitterly and shakes his head, making a few dark strands of hair trace his eyebrows. "As much as you want to fight all of our battles, don't. We have at least two months before anyone can cancel the team. You have more important things to worry about."

I frown disapprovingly. "Hey."

"Yes?" he mutters.

"This is important, too, so don't discount yourself. We'll fix things."

A thick silence suddenly falls between us, and I feel it like the air that follows a curtain. Mr. Weston walks in, cutting off any reply Benjamin may have given me, though he was already turning back to his papers by the time I finished talking.

Sighing, I swing my legs back under my table so I'm not facing him anymore.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Delaney, Leah and I join up in the hallway on our way to lunch.

Walking beside me, Leah pulls out her earphones as a commotion rings out at the centre of the corridor. She slowly puts them around her neck, and tiptoes to get a better look. My stomach drops, as her features turn stony and frigid. The anticipation spikes, like waiting for a clash of thunder once I've seen lightning.

"What's going on?" I ask Leah, getting ready to head over there. She bolts, leaving my question hanging unanswered in the air.

Delaney and I follow wordlessly. As we get closer, I finally get a picture of what happened. Faune, looking like a deer in the headlights, stands face to face with the Monarchy. They form a semicircle around her, while Brittany sneers something at her, laughing wickedly when Faune drops her head.

Leah dashes through, grabbing Faune and nestling her protectively under her arm. The look on her face is hostile, but anyone could tell that hurting her little sister is basically a death wish. Delaney and I join her, making a line between Faune and her bullies. From my vantage point, I can see every nasty look coming our way, and Leah's arms tracing comforting circles on Faune's upper back.

Her usual kind manner covered by a layer of menace, Leah asks, "What do you want, Brittany?"

"Your sister does look a lot like you, I can see the family resemblance. It would be a shame if someone had to ruin that pretty face. As for what I want, I just want the peace to be kept." Her eyes flicker to her side, noticing the redhead staring bullets through her face. "And Delaney... how have you been? I heard the debate team has been having funding trouble this year."

"I don't see how that concerns you, since you're not on the team." Brittany glares. I smirk. Delaney just owned her in front of everyone, bringing up the fact that she has Brittany's coveted place on the Debate team.

Pissed that none of us let her get under our skin, Brittany steps back from us and I inhale a gulp of fresh, perfume-free air. Giving us a last warning glare, she turns and stalks towards the door to the cafeteria. The kid that had pulled the door open as she approaches flinches. He steps aside and holds it open wider, letting Brittany sweep through without a backward glance.

Leah wraps an arm around Faune and shoots a concerned glance towards all the eyes on us. Even though not everyone is looking, it's still more than I'd like.

She turns to me and opens her mouth to speak, but I just nod. "Go take care of her."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The text in front of me makes me want to pull my hair out.

It's mundane and vague, and yet Mr. Williams won't let us leave until we've mined it for at least three literary devices and written two-hundred words about each. I've found parallelism and didacticism, and I'm getting desperate as the end of school draws near. I wonder if two words in a row starting with T counts as alliteration. Surely it does.

My head is propped up with my arms — literally — and several bottles of iced coffee — spiritually. These last two hundred words stand between the oncoming weekend and myself. It's a tough haul, but I'm eventually handing Mr. Williams my workbook, feeling triumphant. I found three T words in a row, so ha. Just before leaving class, I give Callum a sympathetic look as he mimes shooting himself in the head.

Five minutes after the school bus departs from Carsonville High, Drew taps me on the shoulder. I was lulled into a sleepy state by the swaying of the bus, blinking my eyes open to gaze at him. "Yeah?"

I know immediately that Drew is thinking about what I told him two weeks ago. "Do you think anyone could switch sides?"

Drew seemed shaken to know that Reece regrets being friends with Brittany, but now I see hope in his eyes that he could patch things up with his childhood friends. But regret is not the same as an apology or positive change. Very rarely do people change who they are without a major catalyst.

I tease mirthfully, "I hope this isn't you telling me you're joining the Monarchy."

"No," Drew huffs wryly. His lips twitch upwards, but the light-hearted moment I tried to create slips away when his features fall into a thoughtful frown. "It's the opposite."

Drat. He thinks the Monarchy could join us. I turn my head towards the window, watching the houses and pavements roll by outside the bus. The hope swimming in Drew's eyes is magnetic; it pulls me in and fills my own head with idealistic dreams. But I don't believe they can all come true.

"Honestly? I don't think they will change." His lips part to argue, but I elaborate, "Not because they're all terrible people. Even if they wanted to, something larger than them is holding them back."

"I feel like there might be a chance, though." He explains in a low voice, casting a cursory look to where Terrence sits several rows ahead. His headphones are firmly planted, and he hasn't looked back once. "Back during that ceasefire, or even before winter break, it seemed they were mellowing out."

"They? Or two people in particular?" A vision of Derek leaning over Benjamin's desk, the two locked into a glowering standoff, flashes in my mind. "I saw Derek threatening Benjamin just this morning, Drew. And Leah, Delaney and I had a run in with Brittany at lunchtime."

"Really?"

"Yes. They totally mellowed out," I say sarcastically. Drew's brows furrow at my clipped tone. "How do you want to play that, huh?"

He sinks into a ponderous silence, clearly turning this new information over in his head. Benjamin hadn't been present at lunchtime today, nor was Leah, and I didn't feel like sharing something that was clearly person to them, and their story to tell. But now — in light of Drew's weird partiality to his old friends — it's quite relevant. They're not who he remembers.

"The Revolution is supposed to be for everyone."

As much as I hate to admit this, I have to agree with where he's coming from. The Revolution was supposed to rid us of the Monarchy using any means possible. And while straight, clean rebellion is the option we tend to choose, persuasion could also be just as useful. But that means they'd have to choose to join us.

"Everyone who wants to be a part of it," I clarify. "I don't want to beg or force it on anyone. Which is what you're suggesting."

"I'm not suggesting that. But we've tried everything else. Surely, this option deserves a chance. They deserve a chance."

They have had chances — more than plenty. At any point, Reece could have decided not to beat Benjamin up, or antagonise us at the carwash, or apprehend Drew in the wings of the auditorium. Derek could have chosen to not do all those things either, plus walk away from helping Terrence with the dunk tank, or threaten Benjamin with the Mathletes Club. "They get chances every day to change."

Drew doesn't argue with me there; we both know it's the truth.

"What's one more day then?"

Reece's confession echoes in my head. If everyone ends up getting hurt, just know that I didn't want this.

"I need to know that I tried everything I could," he continues. "I don't care if they turn their backs on me and go back to bullying the school. But if I passed up an opportunity to reach out when they're clearly struggling, it wouldn't sit right with me."

A thick, anxious sensation settles in my gut. Looking at Terrence, a few paces in front of us, his curly hair sticking up over the back of the bus seat, I feel a tug in my chest. I understand where Drew is coming from. I really do. More than once, I've wondered what could happen if just one thing was different, or just one person acted differently.

But that faith in Terrence has been dashed so many times. He acts sweet with me, then turns around and does something terrible. Or he defies Brittany in order to help me, only to return to her side the next time she calls. It's too confusing trusting him, much less trying to persuade him to stop.

Would it be different with Reece, Derek and Madison?

Especially when there is bad blood between each of them and each of us. Benjamin viscerally hates Derek for what he did to sabotage the Mathletes last year, and this morning would have made it worse. Leah has always been defensive and guarded because of what Madison did to her younger sister. It just seems like a bad idea to get entangled further with the Monarchy. Like a recipe to hurt everyone. Like what Reece told me.

Could it be different?

I sigh reluctantly. Drew's face lights up. "You have to convince the others. Not me. I'll do whatever you need, Drew."