Lily woke the next morning with a kind of energy she hadn't felt in years. It wasn't "excitement exactly; it was purpose. Quiet and grounded.
She arrived at Bright Futures early, just as the janitor unlocked the doors. Ms.
Gina was already inside, arranging chairs in the small conference room, where a new challenge was waiting for the seven girls.
"A pitch challenge," Ms. Gina explained, smiling as she wrote the title across the whiteboard.
"Each of you will prepare a short project proposal, an idea that could help your community.
You'll present it in front of a panel next week. The top two ideas will receive starter grants."
Whispers broke out. Lily's heart thudded in her chest. A pitch. A real one. In front of people. With stakes.
"This isn't about perfection," Ms. Gina continued. "It's about courage. Voice. Vision."
Lily sat still, processing. She already had an idea that had lived inside her heart since the letter from her mother.
A haven for girls like her. A creative corner where they could learn, write, and rebuild self-worth.
Project Phoenix, she whispered in her mind.
By lunch, she was scribbling notes in her journal under a jacaranda tree, outlining her plan, her purpose, her why.
Back home…
Clara scrolled through her phone in silence while Evelyn leaned over her shoulder.
"She left a journal on her bed," Evelyn whispered smugly. "She forgot to lock it."
Clara raised a brow. "And?"
"She's part of some competition. She wrote down her whole idea. "Something about helping girls.
Project whatever-it-is. If she wins, she gets money."
Clara's expression twisted into something dark. "Money? That thing is going to earn money now?"
Evelyn scoffed. "We can't let that happen."
They didn't need to say more. Their minds moved like water finding the lowest path, mean-spirited, bitter, and slick with envy.
The next day, Clara sneaked into Lily's corner while she was away.
She didn't take the journal too obviously, but she copied pages and photos, Notes, all of it.
The plan was simple: discredit Lily before the pitch.
Meanwhile, at Bright Futures…
Lily was thriving.
She asked for feedback, stayed behind to practice her speaking, and even helped one of the quieter girls polish her proposal.
Ms. Gina noticed her leadership, her focus.
"You're starting to glow, Lily," she said one afternoon. "Don't let anyone dim that."
Lily smiled. "I'm finally starting to believe in my voice."
But as the pitch day drew closer, something began to feel… off.
One afternoon, Lily arrived to find whispers swirling through the office. One of the volunteers, a girl from another program, avoided eye contact.
When Lily sat down, she overheard one of the girls murmur, "Didn't someone say her pitch wasn't even her own?"
Ms. Gina entered moments later with a furrowed brow. "Lily," she said gently, "can I speak with you privately?"
In her office, Ms. Gina showed her an anonymous email claiming that Lily had stolen her idea from someone else's project, that Project Phoenix had been plagiarized.
Lily's hands went cold. "That's not true," she said, heart racing. "I've been working on this for weeks.
I even have my notes and journal entries."
"I believe you," Ms. Gina said, calm but serious. "But the panel must be reassured.
Bring anything that proves this idea is yours. Notes, sketches, dates. We'll make sure your voice is protected."
Lily nodded, throat tight.
She knew. Clara and Evelyn.
Only they had access to her room. Only they would do something like this, hide in shadows and set fires behind her.
But not this time.
This time, Lily had fire of her own.
That night, she gathered everything. Dates. Drafts. Her mother's letter was the one that sparked the idea.
She emailed Ms. Gina her proof with a calm explanation.
And then she sat back, her heart burning not with fear, but with resolve.
Let them try. Let them scheme.
I wasn't rising from the ashes this time.
I'm the flame.
Lily barely slept the night before.
Though Ms. Gina had reassured her after the anonymous accusation, a weight pressed on Lily's chest like a stone.
It wasn't just the fear of being disqualified; it was the betrayal. She had grown used to silent cruelty at home, but this? This was war.
They're not just mocking you anymore, she thought. They're trying to destroy you.
She woke early, red-eyed but determined. With her proof files tucked safely in her folder, she packed her bag and headed out without a word to anyone in the house.
But Clara and Evelyn weren't asleep.
They stood by the window, watching her leave.
"She didn't even ask us if we knew anything," Evelyn whispered.
"Because she knows," Clara replied. "But knowing won't save her."
They weren't finished.
Later that day…
While Lily practiced her pitch at Bright Futures, Clara was on her laptop in the living room, her face lit by the screen's blue glow.
"She's doing it tomorrow, right?" she said to Evelyn, who was painting her nails nearby.
"The pitch event?"
"Yeah. Big deal. Bright Futures is even tagging it online."
Clara smirked. "Perfect."
She created a fake social media account using one of her "burner emails".
Then, using the photos she secretly took of Lily's journal pages, she uploaded them alongside screenshots from an old online blog, an abandoned project Clara found that had a vaguely similar name.
She captioned the post:
"Is Bright Futures about to award a plagiarized idea? #FakeProject #LiesBehindTheSmile"
By evening, the post had gained attention.
It was shared in a few student WhatsApp groups, picked up by a gossip blog notorious for stirring drama around campus programs.
The comments poured in quickly:
"No way she stole it…"
"Another desperate social climber."
"Bright Futures should vet their girls better."
And then… silence from Lily's phone. No calls. No warnings. Just a strange quiet that settled over her night like smoke before a blaze.
When Lily arrived at Bright Futures, eyes followed her differently. Not the usual warmth. Something… guarded. Cold.
A volunteer awkwardly handed her a printed copy of the blog post.
Lily's hands trembled as she read the post, her handwriting, her words exposed without permission. "Twisted against her.
Anger rose fast. For a moment, she almost crumbled. Almost.
But then she remembered the words she wrote just yesterday in her notebook:
"Even if the wind howls, the flame must keep burning."
And she would.
She found Ms. Gina, who was pacing in the hallway.
Stand firm, Lily. Let them see who you are."
Evelyn checked her phone. "She hasn't pulled out yet."
Clara sipped her iced tea. "She will. That much shame? It'll eat her alive."
But they didn't know. Lily was "not the girl who used to cry behind closed doors anymore.
She was no longer running from fire.
She was walking into it.