Chapter One

The Nerd

The bell signaling the start of fourth period rang out, a metallic clang that echoed through the narrow hallways, rebounding off the gray lockers, and drowning out the muffled chatter of the students moving between classes. The noise seemed to press in on Elliot Cole from all sides, suffocating him under the weight of it all. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he ducked into the library, his sanctuary within the chaos of high school. The bustling energy of the corridor evaporated almost instantly, replaced by the comforting silence of books and worn carpeting, the familiar scent of paper and ink settling over him like a protective blanket. It was like stepping into another world—one where the rest of Crestwood High didn’t exist, where the taunts and the jeers couldn't follow. Here, he could just be himself, without fear or shame.

He pushed his glasses up his nose and made his way to his favorite corner, a quiet nook near the back with a table that was almost always unoccupied. It was the perfect place to hide, away from prying eyes and the constant hum of voices that filled the rest of the school. Tucked between towering shelves full of novels that had seen better days, Elliot could easily lose himself in his work, escaping the stares and whispers that always seemed to follow him through the rest of the school. Here, he was just Elliot—just a student, just a boy who loved books—not the nerd, not the weirdo, not the target. It was a fragile illusion, but one that he clung to desperately. In this small corner of the library, he could pretend that he was safe, that the world beyond the shelves didn’t exist.

As he dropped his worn-out backpack onto the floor and took a seat, Elliot let himself breathe for the first time that day. It felt as if he had been holding his breath since the moment he had stepped out of his mom’s car that morning, his shoulders tense and his heart pounding with anxiety. He pulled out a notebook and a battered copy of "The Great Gatsby," trying to ignore the knot of tension that had formed in his stomach since he'd first walked through the school doors. It was always like this. Every day, he entered Crestwood High School knowing there was a good chance that he would be the butt of someone's joke or the target of some mean-spirited prank. And every day, he endured it—quietly, stoically, because what else could he do? He felt like he was walking through a minefield, never knowing when the next explosion would happen, only that it inevitably would.

Elliot had learned a long time ago that fighting back only made things worse. He remembered it vividly—the one time he'd tried—freshman year, when he’d dared to ask Ryan Chapman to stop flicking the back of his ear during biology class. The sneer on Ryan's face, the way his eyes had narrowed, the way he had waited until after class, cornering Elliot in the hallway when no teachers were around. He’d ended up with a black eye, a split lip, and a humiliating nickname that had stuck with him for the rest of high school. No, it was better to stay quiet, to keep his head down and avoid drawing attention to himself. If he stayed invisible, he could get through the day without too much damage. He could make it to graduation, and then he could leave this town behind forever. The thought of leaving Crestwood was the only thing that kept him going some days, the only glimmer of hope in an otherwise bleak existence.

He flipped open "The Great Gatsby," letting his eyes drift over the familiar words. He’d read the book so many times now that he practically had it memorized, but there was something comforting about it, something that made him feel a little less alone. The world of Gatsby and Nick was far removed from his own—a place where people had dreams, even if they were unattainable, and where there was a beauty to the struggle. He envied Nick Carraway’s quiet observance, the way he was able to watch the world from a distance, taking it all in without getting pulled too deeply into the drama around him. Elliot longed for that kind of detachment—to be able to observe without being noticed, to live without the constant fear of what others might say or do. He wanted to be like Nick, to drift through life without leaving ripples, without drawing attention, just watching from the sidelines.

But here, at Crestwood, there was no escaping the drama. The school was small, the kind of place where everyone knew everyone else, and that made it impossible to fly under the radar. Elliot had tried his best, but the combination of his quiet demeanor, his glasses, his penchant for spending his lunch periods in the library rather than the cafeteria—it had all made him a target. People like Ryan Chapman, with his easy grin and his cocky swagger, had picked up on Elliot’s differences immediately, and they'd never let him forget them.

Today had been no different. It had started during first period, when Ryan and his friends had walked by Elliot's desk on their way to the back of the room. Ryan had "accidentally" knocked Elliot's pencil case onto the floor, sending pens and highlighters scattering in every direction. He’d offered a half-hearted apology, but the smirk on his face made it clear that it was anything but sincere. Elliot had bent down to pick up his things, his cheeks burning as he heard the snickers of his classmates around him.

Then, during lunch, he’d made the mistake of trying to cut through the courtyard on his way to the library. He’d thought he could avoid the worst of the lunchtime crowds that way, but he’d forgotten that the courtyard was Ryan’s favorite hangout spot. Before Elliot had even realized what was happening, he’d felt someone shove him from behind, hard enough that he’d stumbled forward and nearly lost his balance. He’d caught himself just in time, but not before his backpack had slipped off his shoulder, spilling his books across the pavement.

"Watch where you're going, Cole," Ryan had sneered, his friends laughing as they watched Elliot scramble to pick up his things. He’d muttered an apology, his hands shaking as he stuffed his books back into his bag, his face burning with shame. He’d wanted to say something, to stand up for himself, but the words had stuck in his throat, choked back by fear and years of learned helplessness. It wasn’t worth it. It was never worth it.

So now, Elliot sat in the library, trying to shake off the events of the day, trying to lose himself in Fitzgerald’s world of green lights and impossible dreams. He knew it was just a temporary escape, that eventually, he’d have to leave the safety of the library and face the real world again. But for now, he let himself disappear into the pages, his fingers tracing the words as he read, his mind drifting away from Crestwood High and all of its cruelties.

The library was quiet, the only sounds the faint hum of the air conditioning and the soft rustle of pages being turned. Elliot glanced up, his eyes drifting over the rows of books, the tables scattered throughout the room. There were a few other students there, but none of them paid him any attention. They were too absorbed in their own work, their own worlds, and Elliot was grateful for that. He didn’t want to be noticed. He just wanted to be left alone.

He returned his focus to his book, trying to lose himself in the story once more. He read the words, but his mind kept drifting, the events of the day replaying in his head like a broken record. He could still hear Ryan's mocking voice, still feel the weight of the stares that had followed him as he'd picked up his things. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling of humiliation, the sense that he was always going to be the target, always going to be the one who was picked on, who was laughed at.

A soft voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. "Hey, is this seat taken?"

Elliot looked up, startled. He hadn’t even noticed anyone approaching, and now there was a boy standing in front of him, a tentative smile on his face. He was tall, with messy brown hair and warm hazel eyes, his backpack slung casually over one shoulder. Elliot blinked, momentarily at a loss for words.

"Um, no," he said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper. He gestured to the empty chair across from him. "Go ahead."

The boy smiled, sliding into the seat and setting his backpack down on the floor. He pulled out a notebook and a pen, glancing up at Elliot as he did. "Thanks. I just needed somewhere quiet to work, and it looked like you had the right idea, hiding back here."

Elliot managed a small smile, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t used to people talking to him, especially not people like this boy, who seemed so confident, so at ease. "Yeah, it’s... it’s usually pretty quiet back here," he said, his voice barely audible.

The boy nodded, flipping open his notebook. "I’m Jesse, by the way," he said, glancing up at Elliot with another smile. "I don’t think we’ve met before."

"Elliot," he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. He ducked his head, his cheeks flushing. He wasn’t used to this—to people introducing themselves, to people wanting to talk to him. It felt strange, unfamiliar, and he didn’t quite know how to respond.

"Nice to meet you, Elliot," Jesse said, his smile never wavering. He turned his attention to his notebook, and Elliot took the opportunity to study him, his eyes flicking over Jesse’s features. There was something about him that seemed... different. He wasn’t like Ryan or his friends, with their loud voices and cruel laughter. There was a gentleness to him, a kindness that Elliot wasn’t used to seeing in people his own age.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence, each absorbed in their own work. Elliot tried to focus on his book, but he found himself glancing up at Jesse every now and then, his curiosity getting the better of him. He wondered why Jesse had chosen to sit with him, of all people. There were plenty of other empty tables in the library, plenty of other places he could have gone. But he’d chosen to sit here, with Elliot, and that made something inside of him stir—something that felt a little bit like hope.

Maybe, just maybe, not everyone at Crestwood was like Ryan and his friends. Maybe there were people who could see past the glasses, past the quiet demeanor, and see Elliot for who he really was. Maybe there were people who wouldn’t laugh at him, who wouldn’t make him feel like he was less than they were. It was a small hope, a fragile one, but it was there, and Elliot found himself holding onto it, letting it warm him from the inside out.

After a while, Jesse glanced up, catching Elliot’s gaze. He smiled, a soft, knowing smile that made Elliot’s heart skip a beat. "You know," he said, his voice low, "it’s nice to have someone to sit with. It gets kind of lonely, always being by yourself."

Elliot swallowed; his throat suddenly tight. He nodded, unable to find the words to respond. He knew exactly what Jesse meant—knew the loneliness that came from always being on the outside, from always feeling like you didn’t quite belong. And for the first time in a long time, Elliot didn’t feel so alone. He wasn’t sure what it meant, or where it would lead, but for now, it was enough.