Monday arrived with a thud.
The high from the poetry reading had faded into a soft memory, like the echo of a favorite song. Lily walked into school clutching her sketchpad a little tighter, wondering if the quiet warmth she'd felt with Sophie and Nathan would carry over into the rest of her week.
It didn't take long to find out.
As she passed her locker, Rachel was there, leaning against the wall with her perfectly arched eyebrows and dagger-sharp smile.
"Well, if it isn't the artist formerly known as Nobody," Rachel said loudly. A few people chuckled.
Lily froze.
She should've kept walking. She should've ignored her. But something inside her cracked. Again.
Rachel stepped closer. "What's it like? Being everyone's little charity case now? Bet you think you're special."
Lily opened her mouth—just slightly—but no words came out.
Sophie appeared at her side, calm but firm. "Back off, Rachel."
Rachel tilted her head. "Aw, cute. Did she draw you too?"
"She doesn't need to," Sophie said, eyes narrowing. "She sees people better than you ever could."
Rachel's smile faltered, just for a second. But then she rolled her eyes and sauntered away, flipping her hair like punctuation.
Lily let out a shaky breath.
"You okay?" Sophie asked quietly.
Lily nodded, but she wasn't sure she meant it. "Thanks for that."
"I shouldn't have waited this long," Sophie said. "But I've got your back now. You're not alone."
Those words—you're not alone—wrapped around Lily like a scarf against the cold.
---
That afternoon, Lily headed straight to Fable & Thread. The moment she stepped through the door, the weight on her chest loosened.
Nathan looked up from a stack of books. "Rough day?"
She just nodded.
He motioned her over and handed her a warm cup of chai. "Tell me where it hurts."
She blinked, surprised. "What?"
"Something my grandma used to say," he said. "You don't have to explain everything. Just… show me where it hurts."
Lily sat down slowly, the cup warming her palms. She didn't say anything at first—just opened her sketchpad and turned to a new page.
This time, she drew herself as a tree—tall, rooted, but with some branches bent under the weight of snow. In the background, smaller trees reached toward her, offering shelter.
Nathan watched over her shoulder, quiet as usual.
When she was done, she looked up.
"I wanted to say something today," she whispered. "To Rachel. But I couldn't."
"Why do you think that is?"
"I don't know. I've changed so much… but she still makes me feel like I'm ten years old again, hiding in a bathroom stall."
Nathan leaned back. "You know, people always think strength is about what you say in the moment. But sometimes strength is just getting through the moment."
Lily looked at him. "But I want to fight back."
"You are," he said. "In your way. You're making art. You're telling stories. You're building something Rachel can't destroy."
She stared at him for a long moment.
"Why do you believe in me so much?" she asked.
Nathan paused. Then, slowly: "Because I know what it feels like to be told you're too much, or not enough, or both at the same time. I know what it's like to carry that voice in your head, even when no one's speaking. And because when I see you"—he stopped, met her eyes—"I see someone who deserves to believe in herself."
Lily's heart pounded.
She wanted to say something back—something meaningful. But instead, she just nodded and looked away, biting her lip to keep her smile from growing too wide.
He didn't need her to say anything. He already understood.
---
Later that night, Lily sat in bed, flipping through her sketchpad.
She found the drawing of the tree again and added to it—tiny blossoms forming along the branches. It wasn't spring yet, not really.
But it was coming.
And maybe, just maybe, she was ready for it.