THE B
At school, they called Kayla "ghost" because she never talked back. She walked with her head down and her books pressed to her chest, counting steps instead of faces.
At home, her dad called her "useless" when the whiskey was on his breath. He’d been calling her that since her mom left three years ago. Since the house got too quiet and his anger got too loud.
Kayla was 16. She did the dishes, the laundry, the cooking. She moved like shadows so she wouldn’t be seen.
But there was one place where Kayla didn’t shake.
Three times a week, when the last bell rang and the hallways emptied, she’d slip into the old music room. The piano was out of tune. The windows were cracked. The dust sat on everything except one key.
She’d close her eyes, press that key, and sing.
For three minutes, she wasn’t a ghost. She wasn’t a maid. She was just Kayla.
And her voice didn’t sound small.
No one knew about the singing competition flyer folded in her math book.
No one knew she’d signed up under the name "K."
No one knew Kayla at all.
But next month, they would hear her
**CHAPTER 2: 42 TILES**
The hallway was always the worst part of her day.
42 seconds where Mara and her friends couldn't touch her.
She counted them every morning right from her class to the bathroom.
Mara had now changed ways from always waiting for her in the hallway to pushing down books from her desk and making fun of her when she bent to pick them up.
Teachers noticed but they only looked away.
It was easier that way. To them being silent was easier than starting chaos all in the name of helping a student who had nothing to offer in return.
That evening, things got crazier.
Kayla was walking down the hallway as usual when she heard, "Look there is the ghost".
People laughed, same laugh different days.
Still looking down, she noticed that the flyer for the competition had fallen out of her torn bag pocket. She was not the only one who noticed it.
Mara did too.
Mara picked it up and read it and the next second she laughed so hard that Kayla was terrified.
"You sing?? How funny. Guess what poor thing, dishes and laundry suit you better," Mara said.
The next thing Kayla knew, Mara threw the flyer on the floor, stepped on it and threw it in the bin.
Kayla didn't cry, she never cried in front of anyone especially not in front of her bully.
She followed the 42 tiles again to the bathroom where she broke down.
She waited until everyone had gone away and she took the flyer from the bin and looked at it.
She traced the letter K on it.
That was the name she signed up with.
And in 29 days, "K" was going to sing.
**CHAPTER 3: WHISKEY NIGHTS**
The key turned at exactly 11:50 pm.
Kayla didn't need to look up from the sink to know who it was.
The same smell of alcohol, the heavy steps and loud breathing.
"Where's my food?"
"Its warming," she whispered.
On the counter lay the flyer for the competition, crumpled, stained but still there.
She held the plate with his food carrying it towards the couch to him with trembling hands.
In her heart she wished he'd just eat peacefully and slept but things don't always go as we wish.
He took one look at the contents of the plate and without a second thought hit it with his hand until all the contents of the plate poured on her skin.
She cried out in pain since the food was hot.
He stood and as scared as she was, she moved back towards the counter and stood face downwards awaiting the worst.
He walked with slow but sure steps towards her and as she was ready to face the worst, he stretched his hand and took the flyer.
It was written in bold: SCHOOL SINGING COMPETITION.
His footsteps got closer. Heavy.
"What's this?"
Kayla’s throat closed. "Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"You joining something now? Without me?"
The laugh that came out of him wasn’t a laugh.
"Who’s gonna watch you sing, huh? Who’s gonna clap for you, orphan?"
The word hit like a slap.
He threw the flyer in the bin. Again.
"Clean this kitchen. Then sleep on the floor. Maybe that’ll teach you to stay in your place."
Kayla nodded. She always nodded.
After he passed out, she waited 20 minutes.
Then she pulled the flyer from the trash again. Smoothed it on her knee.
Under where it said `NAME`, she’d written `K.`
She pressed her thumb over it until the ink smudged.
29 days.
If school and home both wanted her silent... then maybe it was time to be louder
