NOAH’S POV
The moment they announced her name, something shifted in the air. I could feel it—that collective gasp of disbelief rippling through the auditorium like a sonic wave.
Elle Willsmith, the scholarship girl, had just destroyed everyone's expectations.
There was a round of applause after Elle won the musical contest. I expected it.
After hearing her sing at the masquerade event the other night, I knew she had a fair share of winning.
What I didn't expect was how watching her win would make me feel—like I'd accomplished something myself, which was ridiculous. I'd only exposed Benita's cheating scheme. Elle did the rest all on her own.
I watched with arms folded at the shock written on her face at the unexpected win. She stood frozen, like a deer caught in headlights, those wide eyes of hers darting around in disbelief. For a second, I allowed myself to smile. Not the practiced smirk I wear around school, but something genuine.
"Holy shit, did you see Benita's face?" Tyler nudged me from the side. "She looks like she's about to commit murder."
"Probably is," I muttered, watching Benita's perfectly manicured nails curl into fists.
"You realize she's going to blame you for this?" Tyler said, raising an eyebrow. "Ex-boyfriend exposes cheating scheme, ruins her chances... that's not going to go well for you, man."
I shrugged. "Don't care."
"Since when?"
Since I heard Elle sing in the empty music room after hours, thinking no one was listening. Since I realized how much talent was being suffocated by people like Benita—people like me.
"Doesn't matter," I replied instead.
Suddenly, I saw someone waving from the crowd and it caught my attention. It was Lucas. I had seen him with Elle on several occasions, but I never thought they were this close. A frown formed on my face as I watched him push through the crowd, practically sprinting toward the stage.
"Looks like Prince Charming is rushing to save the day," Tyler snickered beside me.
Something hot and uncomfortable settled in my chest. "Shut up," I snapped, then started moving toward the stage myself.
"Where are you going?" Tyler called after me.
I didn't answer. I didn't really know myself. All I knew was that I wanted to be the first to congratulate her. I had bullied her for months, and it wouldn't be so bad to be sweet for once.
Maybe it would ease some of the guilt that had been eating at me since I overheard her crying in the bathroom after what Benita and I did last month.
When I got to her on the stage, she was on her knees, seemingly overwhelmed by the moment. I helped her up from the floor, and her eyes widened as to why I was doing that.
The confusion in her gaze stung more than I expected. I had pulled all sorts of tricks on Elle, so I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't trust that I meant good now.
"You okay?" I asked, my voice lower than intended.
She nodded, still looking wary. "I think so."
"Noah, did you bribe the judges to make her win?" Benita confronted me, storming onto the stage like she owned it. Her voice was shrill enough to make heads turn.
I spared her a glance and then looked away almost immediately. "You know that's not how it works, Benita."
"Then why would you sabotage me?” Her voice cracked slightly.
"No, you had a scheme," I corrected her. "I just happened to notice it."
"You bastard," she hissed, low enough that only Elle and I could hear. "You'll regret this."
Before I could say the word congratulations to Elle, she was yanked away from my grip. I turned to see it was Lucas. He picked her up publicly and spun her around, and she giggled—a sound I'd never heard from her before.
"What the hell!" The words slipped out before I could stop them.
"You did it!" Lucas exclaimed, his face lit up with genuine joy for her. "I told you, didn't I? I told you they'd see how amazing you are!"
Elle's face was flushed, partly from embarrassment, partly from happiness. It transformed her completely—she wasn't the quiet, mousy girl who faded into the background anymore. She was radiant.
"I still can't believe it," she breathed out, clutching the trophy to her chest like it might vanish if she loosened her grip.
He finally let her down and congratulated her, and kissed her cheek. I saw this and my hands clenched involuntarily. The simple gesture felt intimate, familiar, like they shared something I wasn't part of.
Elle laughed, and again, it was like seeing a completely different person.
"You deserve it," Lucas said, suddenly serious. "After everything they've put you through." His gaze flickered briefly in my direction, and I felt the judgment like a physical blow.
They turned to leave the stage when they both saw me and just like that, they walked past me like I was never there or I didn't exist. Not even a glance of acknowledgment. Not from Lucas, which wasn't surprising, but not from Elle either.
Rage fueled inside of me, surprising in its intensity. I hadn't expected to care this much. Hadn't expected to feel like I deserved some sort of recognition for doing the bare minimum of human decency.
"Sucks, doesn't it?" Benita's voice came from behind me, dripping with venom.
I turned to face her, keeping my expression neutral despite the storm brewing inside. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Please." She rolled her eyes. "I saw your face just now. You actually care about what Cinderella thinks of you." She laughed, the sound brittle and harsh. "That's rich, Noah. Really rich. After everything you did to her."
"I'm not the one who tried to cheat my way to a win," I shot back.
"No," she agreed, stepping closer. "You're worse. You're the guy who tormented her for months and now wants to play hero because you heard her sing once and grew a conscience. At least I'm consistent in being a bitch." She flashed a cold smile. "You're just a hypocrite."
She wasn't wrong, and that's what made her words cut deeper than they should have.
I ignored her and walked out.
The cool night air hit my face as I stepped outside, but it did nothing to ease the burning sensation in my chest.
I pulled out my phone and opened Instagram, automatically navigating to Elle's profile. She rarely posted, and when she did, it was usually just photos of landscapes or quotes from books I pretended not to have read. Nothing since the competition yet.
My thumb hovered over the follow button. One simple tap, and I could... what? Apologize for months of torment with a follow request? Ridiculous.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket and headed toward my car, the image of Lucas spinning Elle around replaying in my mind like a bad movie I couldn't shut off.
Rage fueled inside of me.