Chapter 2: The Fallout

After I said, "I like you," the one who reacted the most wasn't Jason.

A hush fell, but not from him—from somewhere else in the room. The PE assistant, who always lurked near his desk, suddenly perked up.

"What? Emily, did you just say you like Jason?"

The clatter of plastic chairs and the scent of dry-erase markers faded as every head turned. His voice rang out, way louder than I’d intended my confession to be. It bounced off the walls, slicing through every conversation in the classroom. I could feel all eyes swing my way.

His voice amplified my deliberately quiet confession, echoing through the classroom and drowning out the usual chatter.

For a few seconds, the world felt frozen. The usual laughter and commotion just... stopped. It was like someone had hit pause on the whole day.

During break, our class fell strangely silent for a second.

You could have heard a pin drop—except nobody was dropping pins, they were all too busy staring. My cheeks prickled under the scrutiny, and I wanted to melt into my seat.

Then, even louder laughter erupted than before.

Someone snorted, and the sound was like a match to dry grass. The room ignited with laughter, louder and meaner than before. Every giggle felt like it was aimed at me.

"Damn, Jason really is something. His charm's so great even the big girl in our class likes him."

The words stung more than any slap. I could see people nudging each other, trying not to make eye contact with me. My hands balled into fists under the desk.

"Jason, you've turned down so many confessions, but you like chubby girls? That's hilarious."

I could see Jason’s jaw tighten. For a second, I thought maybe he’d say something to defend me, but he just stared at his desk.

Jason slowly put away his smile and looked at me. His tone was still fairly calm.

"Are you serious?"

His voice was cool, but not mocking—just flat, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. For some reason, that hurt more.

Amid the laughter, my face burned. I lowered my head, unable to say a word.

My ears rang with the sound of their voices. I focused on the doodle in the margin of my notebook, wishing I could disappear into it. My chest tightened, and my eyes stung.

I never expected Jason to get angry just because people were laughing at me.

He’d always been so chill, always letting things roll off his back. But now, his fists were clenched tight on the desk, and something hard glimmered in his eyes.

Maybe I should have confessed after school.

Regret crashed over me, wave after wave. Why did I say anything? Why couldn’t I keep my stupid feelings to myself?

Suddenly, a loud crash snapped me out of my thoughts.

Jason shot up, his desk scraping across the floor. The slap of his palm on the desk echoed, making even the class clown flinch. It toppled over, books and pencils scattering everywhere. Everyone jerked back, startled into silence.

Jason had stood up and kicked over his desk. All his books scattered at my feet.

The classroom was stone-cold quiet. You could feel the tension, thick as summer humidity. Jason’s anger was a shock—no one expected it, least of all me.

The classmates who'd been teasing us instantly fell silent, seeing that Jason was truly angry.

No one dared say another word. It was like watching a tornado touch down—sudden, wild, and scary.

He looked down at me, that half-smile still on his face.

Except this smile wasn’t kind. It was a smirk that made my insides twist.

"I'm just curious, what made you think of confessing to me? Do you think I have some kind of weird taste?"

His words hit me like a slap. I searched his face for any trace of the boy who used to help me with algebra, but all I saw was a stranger.

I froze, not daring to move, my face draining of color.

The laughter in the room had been replaced by the low hum of whispers, but I couldn’t hear any of it over the pounding in my ears.

Jason's tone was slow, as if he was genuinely asking, "Hey, chubby. Don't you think you're pretty gross?"

He said it casually, almost thoughtfully. Like he was making a simple observation, not crushing someone’s heart.

Since I was little, I'd been the target of countless subtle jokes about my body. I became more and more withdrawn because of it.

There was always that undercurrent—kids making pig noises when I passed, relatives making “gentle” suggestions at family cookouts. Every new year, Grandma Carol would say, “Maybe this is the year you’ll slim down, honey.”

Until Jason became my desk partner.

He was the first to treat me like a regular person, not a punchline. He’d roll his eyes at mean jokes, sometimes even toss a snarky comment back. For a while, I started to believe I might actually be okay.

He never looked at me with any hint of judgment. When others mocked me, he'd even shoot back at them with a sneer.

Those moments felt like lifelines. I clung to them, replaying them in my mind on lonely bus rides home.

During that closed-off but still love-hungry time of girlhood, Jason was my greatest source of happiness.

I’d scribble his name in my notebook, hearts dotting the ‘i’. It was silly, but it kept me warm in a world that always felt cold.