Chapter 4 - The Girl Who Helped
Anna almost walked away.
Mia stopped her.
“You don’t have to forgive me.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“I know.”
That answer made Anna pause.
Mia held the envelope Anna had seen in Principal Mercer’s office.
“I brought copies.”
“Of what?”
“Messages.”
Anna looked toward the library doors.
Students moved around them.
“Not here.”
They found an empty study room.
Ben joined only after Anna texted him.
Mia placed the envelope on the table.
Her hands shook.
“Kayla started Front Gate last spring.”
“Why?”
“Because she was bored.”
Anna stared.
“That’s the reason?”
“At first.”
Mia opened the envelope.
Screenshots.
Group chats.
Draft posts.
Kayla celebrating follower numbers.
WE OWN THIS SCHOOL.
People will confess anything if they think it stays anonymous.
Mia continued.
“At first it was gossip.”
“Then?”
“Kayla realized people paid attention when posts were meaner.”
Ben frowned.
“Paid attention?”
“Followers. Reposts.”
Anna looked at a screenshot.
A student photographed eating alone.
Another mocked for wearing the same formal dress twice.
A boy accused of cheating on a test.
“Were these true?”
“Some.”
“And the others?”
Mia lowered her eyes.
“We didn’t always check.”
Anna’s anger sharpened.
“We?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“I took pictures.”
“Of me?”
“The car.”
Anna stared.
Mia’s voice cracked.
“I’m sorry.”
“You followed me to the parking lot?”
“No. I saw you getting out.”
“And thought, what? Poor girl, this will be funny?”
Mia started crying.
Anna felt no urge to comfort her.
“That’s pretty much what you thought, right?”
Mia nodded.
“Yes.”
At least she admitted it.
Ben looked uncomfortable but stayed silent.
Anna asked:
“Why did you stop?”
Mia wiped her face.
“Kayla posted about my brother.”
Anna frowned.
“Your brother doesn’t go here.”
“No.”
Mia’s brother had been in treatment for addiction.
Kayla knew because Mia had told her privately.
When the girls fought in November, Front Gate posted:
MAYBE SOME FAMILIES SHOULD FIX THEIR OWN HOUSE BEFORE ACTING PERFECT. ASK M.R. WHY HER BROTHER DISAPPEARED FOR SIX MONTHS.
Students guessed.
Mia panicked.
“I told Kayla to delete it.”
“Did she?”
“After two hours.”
“Why didn’t you report her then?”
“Because she had messages showing I helped with the account.”
Anna understood.
“You thought she’d take you down too.”
“Yes.”
“So what changed?”
Mia looked at the table.
“She started posting financial-aid stuff.”
That still did not explain.
Mia opened another screenshot.
A photograph of a printed spreadsheet.
Student initials.
Aid percentages.
Family contribution estimates.
Anna’s initials appeared beside 100%.
Ben whispered, “Where did that come from?”
“Kayla sent it to me.”
“Did she say?”
Mia nodded.
“She said she found it in her mom’s foundation packet.”
Anna’s stomach dropped.
Kayla’s mother, Victoria Harris, chaired the Westbridge Advancement Foundation, a parent fundraising organization.
But financial-aid records were not supposed to be in fundraising packets.
“Why would the foundation have that?”
“I don’t know.”
Mia showed another message.
Kayla:
Mom says donors need to know what kind of burden they’re carrying.
Anna felt sick.
Ben reread it.
“Could Kayla be lying?”
“Yes,” Mia said. “She lies a lot.”
That mattered.
A screenshot of Kayla quoting her mother did not prove Victoria Harris had actually said those words.
Anna had learned quickly not to confuse evidence with interpretation.
“What made you file the complaint yesterday?” Anna asked.
Mia hesitated.
“Kayla told me she was going to post your address.”
Anna froze.
Ben sat forward.
“What?”
“She was mad because you got selected for the Wellington debate team.”
Anna blinked.
The prestigious invitational team had only six spots.
Kayla had applied.
She had not been chosen.
“She said if people wanted to know what ‘full scholarship’ looked like, she’d show them.”
Anna’s skin prickled.
“Do you have that message?”
Mia slid over her phone.
There it was.
Maybe everyone deserves a tour of Anna’s glamorous neighborhood.
Then:
I still have the building photo. Might drop the address too.
Anna’s hands went cold.
That crossed something.
Mocking her car was cruel.
Posting where she lived could be dangerous.
Mia had finally gone to Principal Mercer.
“And then today happened?” Ben asked.
Mia nodded.
“I was already in his office when you sent the fountain video.”
Anna sat back.
The timelines clicked together.
The mysterious complaint had nothing to do with the books.
Mia had come before the incident.
Kayla had simply continued escalating because she did not know.
Ben asked:
“Does Mercer have all these?”
“Yes.”
“All the originals?”
“I gave him exports.”
Good.
No mysterious photocopies.
No anonymous source.
The evidence had a chain.
Mia owned her actions.
Kayla’s messages were on Mia’s phone.
The school could preserve them.
Anna looked at Mia.
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
Mia’s answer was immediate.
“Not yet.”
Anna stared.
Mia continued.
“I lied before. I helped her. I kept screenshots because I was scared she’d blame everything on me.”
“That’s convenient.”
“Yes.”
“But useful.”
“Yes.”
Anna almost laughed at the brutal honesty.
Then Mia reached into the envelope.
“There’s one more thing.”
She handed Anna a printed conversation from two months earlier.
Kayla had written:
Scholarship kids are perfect targets because they never complain. They’re too scared of losing their spots.
Anna read the line.
Again.
Again.
There it was.
Not just cruelty.
Calculation.
Kayla had understood exactly why Anna stayed quiet.
She had turned Anna’s fear of losing Westbridge into protection for herself.
Anna folded the paper.
Her anger became strangely calm.
“What are you going to do?” Ben asked.
Anna looked at Mia.
Then at the evidence.
“File my own complaint.”
Mia nodded.
Anna continued:
“And I’m going to put everything in it.”
“The fountain?”
“Everything.”
She looked directly at Mia.
“Including what you did.”
Mia swallowed.
Then nodded again.
“That’s fair.”
For the first time since the books hit the water, Anna felt she was no longer reacting to Kayla.
She was making a choice.
May you like
And this time, she would decide what the record said.
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