The only escape route was through the doorway where Carissa stood, intimidating in every sense of the word. Three of her cheerleader pack stood guard, though Nicole was noticeably absent. She was likely removed from class and sent home, suspended for her participation in the assault.

Lyla backpedaled toward the desk, realizing that her fate was sealed. She needed to surrender and prepare for her beheading.

"You think I wouldn't find you hiding under Coach's desk in the dark?" Carissa hissed.

"I'm so sorry." She lowered her head.

"This is being live-streamed. Just so you know." Carissa handed her phone to Emily who recorded the event.

Kill me right now.

"For God's sake, Perry, make an effort. You drag your skinny butt to school looking like you were dumped out of a shipping container."

Her squad laughed. Lyla knew this was only a warm-up.

"I told you to keep your nasty little rat fingers off of Jack. But you said hell to the no, and went for it anyway, didn't you?"

"Admittedly, mistakes were made," she mumbled.

"That's not how this works. Did you see yourself in that video? You're literally humping his leg like a pathetic little Chihuahua in heat. Nobody wants that."

The cheerleaders giggled and slow-clapped.

Lyla swallowed what was left of her pride and squeaked, "There's no excuse for what I did."

"Do I look like I'm even close to finished here?"

"Sorry, but—"

"Last time I checked, I'm running this meeting," she hissed. "Try to keep up."

Lyla was like a ball of crumpled paper that had bounced off the rim of the trash can and had rolled into the corner.

"You keep saying sorry," Carissa sneered. "That word doesn't mean what you think it means." She leaned forward on the desk, "You want Jack?" Her green eyes narrowed. "You can have him."

An audible gasp burst from her cheerleader crew.

"Either that boy has totally lost his mind and he's into rescuing random basic girls who shop for their clothes at the Salvation Army...," Carissa steamed.

"Oof" Lyla winced.

"...Or he's purposely sabotaging our relationship because he knows he's past his expiration date. Either way, neither of you is worth another minute of my life."

"Jack loves you!" She shouted in an attempt to prevent Carissa from walking out.

"Of course he does," she snapped and made her dramatic exit. Her pack trailed.

"Please! Please don't do this. I'm begging you," she whimpered, determined to do whatever was necessary to repair the damage she had caused. But it was too late, the final verdict had been rendered.

When she exited the building, just outside the gym, she was met with an explosion of raucous activity. Students stood in a ring, cheering and yelling like savages. Inside the circle, a brutal fight ensued between Jack and Noah. Blood ran from Noah's nose, down his chin, and onto his shirt, his face crimson and blotchy. Noah easily outweighed Jack by fifty pounds, but Jack was far more agile.

Desperately, Noah lunged for Jack's legs and managed to take him down. But before he could pin his opponent to the asphalt, school security guards interceded. They yanked Noah to his feet as he kicked wildly at Jack.

As Lyla averted her watery eyes from the droplets of blood that dotted the pavement, she recognized that they were the direct result of her self-indulgence. The brutal fight was her fault. Jack and Carissa were no longer the school's reigning power couple. That was her fault. Surely, Jack would be suspended and would likely never speak to her again. Again, her fault.

And as if all of this weren't bad enough, there remained the matter of locating a decaying body deep in the woods and conceiving a strategy to transport it and bury it at the top of that desolate hill. Lyla would need to attempt the mission on her own. This was more than a monumental challenge. It would be impossible.