Screenshot Evidence

Leo smoothed his hoodie for the third time, palms sweating against his iPhone as he scrolled through the group chat. **Bull** ― that's what everyone called Tyler Morrison, the junior who made hallway pass feel like running a gauntlet. Tyler's latest Instagram story showed him flexing in the gym, #beastmode trending underneath.

Vitamin gummies rattled in Leo's pocket as he ducked into the bathroom. His mom's new obsession ― "immune support" ― felt ridiculous given the actual threat: Tyler had somehow found out about Leo's secret app account, the one where he posted poetry under a fake name. Now Tyler was threatening to expose him.

"Dude, you okay?" Marcus asked at lunch, sliding onto the cafeteria bench. "You've been acting weird all day."

Leo's thumb hovered over his iPhone screen. Tyler's DM burned in his notifications: "Everyone's gonna know you write that sappy poetry unless..." Unless what? Tyler hadn't specified. The uncertainty was worse.

"Yeah. Just tired." Leo pushed around his food.

That afternoon, Leo decided to be a **spy**. He'd watch Tyler, figure out what he wanted, maybe find something to leverage back. He positioned himself near the gym exit, pretending to study on his phone while Tyler emerged with his crew, laughing loudly.

But then Leo saw it: Tyler sneaking into the nurse's office, emerging moments later looking exhausted, checking his own phone with nervous hands. Following quietly, Leo overheard Tyler talking to the nurse about "managing stress" and something about "expectations."

Later that night, Leo's phone buzzed. Tyler: "Look, I'm not gonna tell anyone about your poetry. I just... I don't know. I thought maybe you'd understand what it's like to feel like you gotta be someone you're not."

Leo stared at the screen. The bully wasn't a bully. He was just another kid trying to survive the performance.

"My poetry isn't a secret anymore," Leo typed back. "If you want to read it, it's under my real name now. No more hiding."

He pressed post, heart pounding. The first post under his actual name: "We're all just faking it until we make it, aren't we?"

Within minutes, likes poured in. Including one from Tyler Morrison.

Maybe middle school wasn't about conquering or being conquered. Maybe it was about finding the courage to just... exist. Without apologies.

Leo finally took that vitamin gummy. It tasted like artificial grape and second chances.