Chapter 5: Wings, Warnings, and Choices

The class only knew Derek was rebellious and gave teachers headaches, thought he was just some rich kid.

But Tyler knew there was more to the story. He’d heard the whispers, seen the way the teachers treated Derek with a mix of fear and respect.

Only Tyler knew what the last name "Santiago" meant.

The Santiago family was old money, the kind of people who didn’t need to show off because everyone already knew who they were.

That was the Santiago family his father had tried so hard to connect with but never could.

Tyler’s dad used to talk about the Santiagos at dinner, always with a note of envy in his voice.

Also the family who refused to help when his own family was in trouble.

It was a wound that hadn’t healed, a reminder of how quickly fortunes could change.

Derek's flashy motorcycle was parked at the intersection. He pulled a book from his backpack and tossed it to Maya.

The bike was loud, impossible to miss. Derek always made an entrance, even when he didn’t mean to.

Maya hugged it like a treasure, smiling as she handed an apple to Derek.

It was a small gesture, but the look on her face said everything. She trusted him in a way she never had with Tyler.

He, a pampered young master, not only took it, but didn't even bother to wash it—just wiped it on his shirt and took a big bite.

Tyler watched, half in disbelief. Derek wasn’t supposed to care about things like this, but here he was, eating fruit from a street stand like it was nothing.

It was the apple Tyler had just refused.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. He wondered if Maya noticed too.

That night, lying on his creaky wooden bed in the dark, Tyler looked out at the silhouette in the window across from his and wondered—

He could see the faint glow of Maya’s lamp, the shape of her hunched over a book. It was a comfort, even if he’d never admit it.

Maya Carter, is she ugly?

He asked himself the question over and over, trying to convince himself the answer was yes.

He thought, at least when she smiled at Derek, she was.

It was jealousy, plain and simple. He hated the way she looked at Derek, hated that he was no longer the center of her world.

She used to smile at only him like that—genuine, bright.

He missed it, more than he wanted to admit.

But after the Monroe family fell, she turned and smiled at someone else that way.

It was a loss he didn’t know how to grieve.

---

I regretted sitting next to Derek Santiago just a few days after moving.

At first, I thought it would be an adventure—maybe a little excitement would do me good. But Derek was chaos personified.

He was just too strange.

He had a way of making the ordinary seem extraordinary, and not always in a good way. I never knew what to expect.

When I sat down with my backpack, he was sleeping on the desk.

His head was buried in his arms, hair sticking up in all directions. He looked peaceful, almost innocent.

He woke up, glanced at me lazily, and muttered, "Not chasing after Tyler anymore?"

His voice was rough with sleep, but there was a hint of mischief in his eyes.

I shot back, "I never chased him in the first place."

I tried to sound annoyed, but I think he saw right through me.

He snorted.

He didn’t bother to hide his amusement. I rolled my eyes, pretending not to care.

He was the only one in class who knew about my crush on Tyler, because he'd found my sketchbook.

He’d flipped through it during study hall, his eyebrows rising as he recognized Tyler’s face on every page.

He didn't seem to like Tyler much. When he tossed the sketchbook back to me, he said, "No taste at all."

He said it with a smirk, but there was something else there—maybe protectiveness, maybe jealousy. I couldn’t tell.

A few days after switching seats, it was Valentine's Day. The popular boys and girls got a ton of chocolate. Tyler had a whole stash in his locker.

The classroom was a mess of heart-shaped boxes and shiny wrappers. It smelled like sugar and teenage desperation.

Derek barged into the classroom, pulled out a box of obviously expensive imported chocolates, and said no one at home liked them, so I could have them.

He dropped the box on my desk like it was nothing, but I could see a hint of hope in his eyes.

I pushed them back, saying I was watching my sugar intake.

I tried to be polite, but I didn’t want to owe him anything.

He immediately kicked his chair, stood up, threw the chocolates in the trash, and stormed out of class.

The whole room went silent, everyone staring. I felt a pang of guilt, even though I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong.

Tyler came over, set a box of chocolates on my desk, and said, "These are sugar-free."

His voice was soft, almost apologetic. For a moment, I wondered if he was trying to make up for something.

The whole class sighed and started teasing. Piper Evans passed me a note:

Piper’s handwriting was bubbly, the paper folded into a tiny heart. I unfolded it, half-dreading what I’d find.

"Girl, two at once! The school hunk and the school rebel. How'd you pull this off?"

I snorted, shaking my head. If only she knew how complicated it really was.

Of course, I never thought for a second that Derek or Tyler liked me. Neither of them were ever really part of my world.

It was easier to believe that than to hope for something more. I’d learned my lesson.

Besides, I was the class's official ugly duckling.

The label clung to me, no matter how hard I tried to shake it off.

Tyler only acted that way because his mom had noticed something was off between us.

I’d overheard their conversation once, voices drifting through the thin apartment walls.

One time, I overheard Tyler's mother telling him, "Maya's a good girl. Even if you don't like her, you should let her down gently."

Her voice was gentle, full of warmth. I wondered if Tyler ever listened to her advice.

As for Derek, I had no clue. He never followed any rules.

He was a wild card, impossible to predict. Sometimes I wondered if he even knew what he wanted.

His weird behavior even started to affect my grades a bit.

I found myself distracted in class, my mind wandering to whatever Derek would do next.

For example, he'd play with my hair during class, doodle my name on his scratch paper, or race his motorcycle against my school bus after class.

The teachers pretended not to notice, but I could see them watching us out of the corner of their eyes.

He was moody. When he was in a good mood, he'd toss me some rare books, share music, or bring me all sorts of little gadgets I'd never seen before.

Some of the books were in languages I didn’t even recognize. The music was always a surprise—sometimes jazz, sometimes punk, sometimes something in between.

When he was in a bad mood, he'd block the hallway during breaks so I couldn't get out, or lock me in the equipment closet during gym for the whole period.

I spent one entire gym class banging on the door, cursing his name. When he finally let me out, he just grinned and handed me a soda.

I asked him straight out, "Derek, you keep doing these childish things. Don't tell me you actually like me?"

I tried to sound tough, but my voice wobbled at the end.

He burst out laughing, his face turning red. "Like you? That's so childish. I'm just bored, messing with you for fun, you little unlucky thing."

He ruffled my hair, still laughing. I couldn’t help but smile, even though I knew I should be annoyed.

But even though he always teased me, I didn't dislike him at all.

There was something about Derek that made it hard to stay mad. Maybe it was his honesty, or maybe it was the way he never pretended to be anything he wasn’t.

The night of the class vote, he got up, snatched the booklet, read it, got furious, tore it to shreds, then pointed at all the boys and cursed them out.

He didn’t care about getting in trouble. He just stood there, daring anyone to challenge him. For once, the classroom was completely silent.

"You guys have no sense of beauty, but you dare to judge others? Is this something normal people do? It's a disgrace to be in the same class as you! And let me tell you, she's not ugly—you are!"

His voice rang out, echoing off the walls. I’d never seen him so angry before.

That night, to me, he was like a hero.

A hero I never expected to have.

I went home with my head held high, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. Sometimes, all it takes is one person standing up for you to make the world feel a little less cruel.

Derek Santiago was a legend at school.

Everyone had a story about him—some true, most wildly exaggerated. He was the kind of person people whispered about in the hallways.

He skipped class whenever he wanted, came and went as he pleased, did whatever he liked—no one could control him.

He made his own rules, and everyone else just tried to keep up.

What was even more frustrating was that his grades were still at the top of the class.

It drove the teachers crazy. They couldn’t figure out how someone so rebellious could be so smart.

My first impression was that he just loved to play.

He had a restless energy, always looking for the next thrill. I never knew where I’d find him from one day to the next.

The first time I met him outside of school, he and his friends were spraying water guns at a summer music festival and accidentally soaked me as I walked by.

I was drenched, mascara running down my cheeks, but he just grinned and offered me a towel. That was Derek—never sorry, always charming.

That day, he took me for a wild ride on his motorcycle around the city, saying that was the fastest way to dry off.

I clung to his jacket, laughing and screaming as we zipped through traffic. For a moment, I forgot all about my troubles.

Later, we were grouped together for a social research project. Every time we had a group video meeting, he was in a different place—sometimes in New York, sometimes in Paris.

His background was always changing—skyscrapers one day, a café the next. It was like he lived in a different world.

I always assumed that if he wasn't at school, he must be out having fun.

I never imagined there was more to his story, that maybe he was running from something.

So when I saw him on ESPN, I was so shocked I forgot to eat.

I was halfway through a bowl of cereal when I saw his face on TV, eyes focused, jaw set. I nearly dropped my spoon.

On TV, he held an air rifle with a steady hand, focused and calm, completely different from usual.

He looked like a different person—disciplined, serious, almost serene. I barely recognized him.

I held my breath as I watched him aim and pull the trigger. Just then, Tyler, who was eating at my house, suddenly stood up and said to my mom,

"Mrs. Carter, my dad's getting out of the hospital tonight. There's still stuff at home I haven't set up. Could you ask Maya to help me?"

Tyler was lying—there was nothing he needed help with. As soon as I walked in, he shut the door behind me, blocking me in his room.

His face was tense, eyes darting to the window as if he expected Derek to appear at any moment.

"Maya, you see Derek shining, so now you like him, is that it? Do you know what people are saying about you two being locked in the equipment closet together during gym? Are you even in the same world as him? Do you know his family background? How dare you get close to him? He doesn't even need to take the SATs—after graduation he'll just go abroad. After your wild fling, he'll walk away and still be the rich young master. What about you? Have you thought about your reputation?"

His words tumbled out in a rush, sharp and desperate. For the first time, I saw fear in his eyes—not for himself, but for me.

My phone lit up at that exact moment—a voice message from Derek.

[Hey, desk mate, did you see how cool I was? Handsome or not, hmm?]

His voice was cocky, but there was a note of vulnerability there, too. I smiled in spite of myself.

[I'm at your door. Come out, I'll treat you to wings.]

Wings were our thing—a little tradition we’d started after a late-night study session. Derek always knew how to cheer me up.

The walls in our old apartment were thin, and his voice was loud. We both heard it inside.

Tyler’s jaw tightened. I could tell he wanted to say something, but the words caught in his throat.

Before I could react, I heard my mom say, "Are you Maya's classmate? She's helping out at Tyler's place across the hall."

Her voice was friendly, but I could hear the curiosity underneath. She always liked Derek, even if she pretended otherwise.

After a moment of silence, I heard Derek reply coldly, "Is that so? Then I'll just go back."

His voice was tight, clipped. I knew he was hurt, even if he’d never admit it.

The alley went quiet, but my phone buzzed again with a text.

[Derek Santiago: Come out, I'm at the alley entrance.]

I hesitated, torn between the two of them. For a moment, I wished I could disappear.

Tyler moved closer, so close I was pressed against the wall.

His eyes were dark, pleading. I could feel his breath on my cheek, the heat of his body crowding mine.

He lowered his head, almost pleading, and whispered in my ear, "Maya, don't go, okay?"

His voice was raw, stripped of all pretense. For the first time, I saw the boy I’d once loved, vulnerable and afraid. And just like that, the world felt impossibly small, the weight of choice pressing down on me.