Chapter One: 

The autumn sun blazed mercilessly over Winston College's practice field as Alexander Morello dragged the heavy equipment bag across the grass. Sweat beaded on his forehead, not from the heat, but from the familiar dread that twisted his stomach every afternoon.

"Well, well, well. Look what crawled out from under a rock."

Alexander's shoulders tensed. Paxton Jennings' voice carried across the field like a death sentence. The star quarterback's cleats thundered against the turf as he approached, his entourage of teammates trailing behind like hungry wolves.

"Hey, poverty boy!" Paxton called out, his voice dripping with mock enthusiasm. "How's mommy dearest doing? Still serving coffee to truckers at that greasy diner?"

The football team erupted in laughter. Alexander kept his head down, focusing on organizing the equipment with trembling hands.

"Oh, come on, don't be shy," Paxton taunted, stepping closer. "I heard she's been working extra shifts lately. What's she saving up for? A cardboard mansion upgrade?"

More laughter rippled through the group. Someone pulled out their phone, the camera's red recording light blinking like a predator's eye.

"She's probably saving for her son's therapy sessions," Jake Morrison, the linebacker, chimed in. "Kid looks like he's about to cry every time someone looks at him funny."

"Or maybe she's saving to buy him some backbone," another voice added. "Dude's more spineless than a jellyfish."

Alexander's hands shook as he fumbled with the water bottles. The plastic crinkled loudly in the sudden silence that followed Paxton's raised hand.

"Actually, boys, I heard something really interesting about Alexander's mommy," Paxton said, his voice taking on a conspiratorial whisper that somehow carried to every corner of the field. "Word is, she's been getting real friendly with some of her late-night customers. Extra tips, if you know what I mean."

Alexander's head snapped up, his eyes blazing with fury. "Don't you dare—"

"Oh, look! The little mouse has a voice!" Paxton threw his head back and laughed. "What are you gonna do about it, charity case? Sue me with your food stamp lawyer?"

"I bet she tucks dollar bills in her apron," Marcus Williams sneered. "Tips from her 'special services.'"

"Shut up," Alexander whispered, his voice barely audible over the team's cruel laughter.

"What was that?" Paxton cupped his ear dramatically. "Speak up, beggar boy. Use that voice your mommy taught you. Oh wait, she was probably too busy with her gentlemen callers to teach you anything useful."

The blood drained from Alexander's face. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"I said shut up!" Alexander's voice cracked as he shouted.

"Ooooh, scary!" Paxton mocked, pretending to cower. "The little puppy is trying to bark! What's next, are you gonna bite me with those crooked teeth? Bet you can't even afford dental care."

"His teeth look like a broken picket fence," Jake added, earning another round of laughter.

"More like a graveyard," Marcus corrected. "All yellow and rotting."

Paxton stepped closer, towering over Alexander's smaller frame. "You know what I think? I think you need to learn your place, charity boy. Your mommy might sell herself cheap, but that doesn't mean you get to forget where you stand in the food chain."

"You're lying," Alexander stammered, taking a step backward.

"Am I?" Paxton's grin turned predatory. "My dad owns half this town, including the diner where your mommy works. He tells me everything. About the late nights, the private meetings in the parking lot, the extra cash she makes on her knees—"

"STOP!" Alexander lunged forward, but Jake caught him easily, holding him back like a struggling child.

"Look at him squirm!" Marcus howled. "He's like a fish out of water!"

"More like a worm," Jake corrected, tightening his grip. "Slimy and pathetic."

"Let me go!" Alexander thrashed helplessly in Jake's grip.

"Oh, I don't think so," Paxton said, pulling out his own phone. "This is too good. The whole school needs to see this. Smile for the camera, poverty boy!"

Alexander's struggle intensified, but it was useless against Jake's superior strength.

"Actually," Paxton said thoughtfully, "I have a better idea. Since your mommy is so good at getting on her knees for money, why don't you show us where you learned it from?"

The laughter died down as the team sensed something darker approaching.

"Get on your knees, Alexander," Paxton commanded, his voice cold as winter steel.

"No," Alexander whispered.

"No?" Paxton repeated, his eyebrows rising in mock surprise. "Did you just tell me no? Let me explain something to you, you insignificant little cockroach. You don't get to tell me no. You don't get to tell anyone in this school no. You're nothing. Less than nothing. You're the dirt under my cleats, and right now, I'm telling you to get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness."

"I won't—"

"You will," Paxton interrupted, nodding to Jake, who forced Alexander down. "Because if you don't, I'll make sure everyone in this school knows exactly what kind of woman your mother really is. I'll post it on every social media platform, print flyers, take out ads in the newspaper. Your mommy's reputation will be destroyed faster than you can say 'poverty.'"

Alexander's knees hit the grass with a dull thud. The cameras were rolling now, multiple phones capturing his humiliation from every angle.

"That's better," Paxton said, circling him like a shark. "Now beg. Beg me to forgive you for being such a pathetic waste of space."

Tears burned at the corners of Alexander's eyes, but he refused to let them fall. The silence stretched on, broken only by the sound of cleats shifting on grass and the quiet hum of recording phones.

"I'm waiting," Paxton said impatiently. "Unless you want me to get creative with my description of your mother's nighttime activities—"

"Stop it. Right now."

The voice cut through the tension like a blade. Every head turned toward the source, where Selena Vega stood at the edge of the practice field, her cheerleading uniform pristine, her dark eyes blazing with fury.

"Selena!" Paxton's cruel expression melted into a charming smile. "Perfect timing. You're just in time to watch—"

"I said stop it, Paxton." Selena strode forward, her voice carrying an authority that made several players step back instinctively. "Get away from him."

"Come on, babe, we're just having some fun—"

"Fun?" Selena's voice rose dangerously. "You call this fun? You're a disgusting bully, and if I see you touching him again, I'll make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of person you really are."

The silence that followed was deafening. Paxton's face flushed red, but under Selena's withering stare, he took a step back.

"Whatever," he muttered, his bravado crumbling. "He's not worth it anyway. Come on, guys."

The team dispersed reluctantly, muttering among themselves as they headed toward the locker room. Paxton shot one last venomous look at Alexander before following his teammates.

Selena knelt beside Alexander, who was still on his knees, staring at the ground in shock.

"Hey," she said softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Alexander looked up at her, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Selena? Why did you—"

"Because you're my friend," she said simply, helping him to his feet. "And friends don't let friends get treated like that."

They stood together in the fading afternoon light, the practice field empty except for scattered equipment and the lingering echo of cruelty.

"Listen," Selena said, brushing grass off his shirt, "it's my birthday party this Saturday. You should come."

Alexander stared at her, certain he had misheard. "Your party?"

"Eight o'clock, my house. You know where I live." She smiled, and for the first time in months, Alexander felt something other than dread in his chest. "Don't let them win, Alexander. You're better than they'll ever be."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Alexander standing alone on the field, stunned but somehow, impossibly, hopeful.