But Jillian simply stared at her, her eyes sharp and unwavering. She wouldn't let them win. She wouldn't let them see her pain. One day, she would leave Willowbrook, leave this village, and prove to them all that she was far more than an "abandoned bastard."
One afternoon, as Jillian gathered her books from her desk, she heard a sharp, frightened voice from the other side of the classroom. Margaret Holloway had found a new target. A timid girl named Clara Evans stood frozen as Margaret and her friends surrounded her.
"You think you're better than us just because you got a compliment from the teacher?" Margaret sneered, shoving Clara's notebook off her desk. "Pathetic. You'll always be nothing."
Jillian clenched her fists. She had endured Margaret's torment for weeks, but watching someone else suffer was different. Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward.
"Leave her alone, Margaret." Her voice was calm but firm, cutting through the laughter. The room fell silent.
Margaret turned, her eyes flashing with malice. "Oh? The abandoned bastard has something to say?" She smirked, stepping toward Jillian. "Why don't you mind your own business?"
But Jillian didn't back down. She met Margaret's glare with steady determination. "Or what? You'll try to make me feel small? You've already tried that—and I'm still here."
For the first time, Margaret faltered. The other students watched, waiting for her reaction. But instead of responding, Margaret scoffed, rolling her eyes and walking away, her followers hesitating before trailing after her.
Clara quickly bent down to retrieve her notebook, her hands shaking. Jillian knelt beside her, offering a small smile. "Don't let them get to you."
Clara looked at her with wide, grateful eyes. "Thank you… I've never seen anyone stand up to her before."
Jillian shrugged. "Someone had to."
From that moment, Clara became Jillian's first true friend in Willowbrook. She might still be an outsider, but at least now, she wasn't alone.
Jillian and Clara became inseparable. They sat together in class, shared lunch under the shade of the old oak tree in the schoolyard, and walked home side by side. For the first time since arriving at Willowbrook, Jillian felt like she had an ally.
Clara was gentle and quiet, but there was a sharp mind behind her shy demeanor. She excelled in literature and history, while Jillian thrived in mathematics and sciences. It wasn't long before they began studying together, pushing each other to do better. Every afternoon, they would sit by the library's large wooden table, their books spread out between them, whispering about assignments and helping each other with difficult problems.
One evening, after finishing their homework, they decided to take a longer route home through the village. The air was crisp, the scent of freshly baked bread drifting from the marketplace. As they walked, Clara hesitated before speaking.
"Jillian… why do you think Margaret hates you so much?"
Jillian sighed, kicking a loose pebble on the path. "Because I don't bow to her. Because I'm different. And because she knows I won't break."
Clara nodded thoughtfully. "Well, she won't break me either. Not anymore."
Jillian smiled. For the first time in a long while, she didn't feel so alone.
As the days passed, Jillian and Clara's bond only grew stronger. They became a team—walking to school together, studying late into the evening, and sharing whispered conversations about their dreams and fears. For the first time since arriving in the countryside, Jillian felt a sense of belonging.
But their friendship didn't go unnoticed. Margaret Holloway and her group watched from afar, their eyes filled with resentment. Jillian had not only defied them—she had encouraged someone else to do the same. Margaret wasn't about to let that go unpunished.
One afternoon, as Jillian and Clara sat beneath their favorite tree reviewing their notes, a shadow fell over them. Margaret stood before them, arms crossed, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face.
"Clara, I see you've found yourself a little protector," she said mockingly. "Do you really think she'll always be around to save you?"
Clara tensed beside Jillian, but before she could reply, Jillian spoke first.
"I don't think— I know," she said coolly. "And if you're here to waste my time, Margaret, I suggest you leave."
Margaret's smile faltered, but she didn't back down. "You're making a mistake, Clara," she said, her voice low and venomous. "People like Jillian never stay. They disappear—just like her mother did."
Jillian's blood ran cold. The casual cruelty in Margaret's words was sharper than any physical attack. Clara gasped, looking at Jillian with wide, worried eyes.
But Jillian wouldn't give Margaret the satisfaction of seeing her break. She lifted her chin, her expression unreadable.
"I'd rather disappear than be anything like you," she said.
Margaret scoffed, but there was something uncertain in her gaze before she turned and walked away.
Clara hesitated before placing a gentle hand on Jillian's. "Are you okay?"
Jillian swallowed the lump in her throat and forced a smile. "I will be."
But deep inside, she knew Margaret's words had left a scar. And she feared this was just the beginning.
Days passed, but Margaret's words lingered in Jillian's mind like a shadow. No one had dared to speak about her mother so cruelly before, and though she tried to brush it off, a deep unease settled within her. What did Margaret know? How much of it was just a lie meant to hurt her?
Meanwhile, Margaret's group grew more hostile. They whispered louder when Jillian and Clara walked by, left cruel notes in their desks, and once, even poured water over Jillian's books. But Jillian didn't react. She refused to give them the satisfaction.
Clara, however, was starting to worry. "You can't just let them keep doing this," she insisted one afternoon as they walked home. "They won't stop unless you fight back."
Jillian gave a small, sad smile. "I've been fighting my whole life, Clara. Sometimes, you have to pick your battles."
But the battle was coming to her, whether she wanted it or not.
Margaret's friends, once loyal to her every word, were beginning to feel the shift in the air. Jillian had stood her ground against Margaret, something none of them had dared to do before, and it seemed the other girls were starting to notice.
One by one, they began to distance themselves, watching Jillian with a mix of awe and uncertainty. Margaret's cruelty, though familiar, no longer seemed as powerful in the face of Jillian's unyielding strength.
At lunch one afternoon, Chloe Anderson, one of Margaret's closest friends, glanced nervously between Jillian and Margaret. She had always been the quiet one, quick to laugh at Margaret's jokes but never as eager to engage in her more spiteful acts. Now, she lingered by the corner of the schoolyard, pretending to be absorbed in her lunch, but Jillian noticed her glances.
As Jillian and Clara sat under the oak tree, studying for an upcoming test, Chloe hesitated before approaching them. "Jillian," she said, her voice soft. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
Jillian looked up, surprised but not unkind. "Of course."
Chloe shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "Look, I… I don't like what's been happening. What Margaret's been saying. I never thought it would go this far."