Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Quiet Strength

The fluorescent lights of Lincoln High buzzed faintly as Harper navigated the crowded halls. She kept her head down, her old sneakers scuffing against the tiles, her oversized hoodie swallowing her frame. Conversations and laughter swirled around her, but she was just a shadow moving through the chaos.

No one noticed Harper. Not the students in their designer sneakers and brand-name backpacks, not the teachers too overwhelmed by overcrowded classrooms to question the girl who sat in the back and barely spoke. That was fine by her. Friends were a luxury she couldn’t afford, and the less anyone knew about her life, the better.

In her AP Government class, Harper took her usual seat. The class was discussing a landmark Supreme Court case, but the words on the board felt distant. She was too tired to focus; last night had been brutal.

The engine of her car had refused to turn over, leaving her shivering under a pile of thin blankets for hours. She’d barely slept before her alarm jolted her awake at dawn, and the granola bar she’d split earlier didn’t help much.

But then Mr. Aldridge, her teacher, asked a question:

“What was the legal precedent set by this case?”

The silence stretched as the other students avoided eye contact, but Harper’s hand shot up.

“Yes, Harper?”

“It established the principle of judicial review, which allows courts to determine the constitutionality of laws,” she said, her voice steady.

Mr. Aldridge smiled. “Correct. Can you elaborate on how that changed the balance of power between branches of government?”

For the next few minutes, Harper explained the intricacies of the case with a clarity that even impressed herself. When she finished, the classroom was silent, save for the sound of a pencil rolling off a desk.

“Excellent, Harper,” Mr. Aldridge said. “You should consider law school someday.”

She nodded, but the idea seemed impossible. Law school cost money—money she didn’t have.

After school, Harper changed into her waitress uniform in the cramped bathroom of a gas station. The fabric was worn thin, and the stitching on one sleeve was coming undone, but it was clean. She walked to the diner, clutching her backpack tightly.

The evening shift was grueling. Orders piled up, customers complained, and her manager barked orders from the kitchen. Harper moved quickly, balancing trays and refilling coffee cups, ignoring the ache in her feet and the hunger gnawing at her stomach.

“Table seven needs their check,” one of her coworkers whispered, clearly annoyed.

Harper nodded and approached the table. A man in a suit was scrolling through his phone, barely acknowledging her presence.

“Here’s your check, sir,” she said, her tone polite but distant.

He glanced up, then did a double-take. “Don’t you intern at Lexington & Walker?”

Her heart sank. It was Mr. Callahan.

“Yes,” she admitted, heat rising to her cheeks.

He looked surprised but said nothing more. Harper hurried away, her pulse racing. She couldn’t afford to lose the internship, but she had no choice but to work.

At the end of the shift, she pocketed her meager tips and walked back to her car. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her as she curled up in the backseat, wrapping her thin blanket around her. She stared out the window at the starless sky, the cold seeping into her bones.

Her phone buzzed. It was an email from Mr. Callahan, assigning her a research task for tomorrow.

She sighed but smiled faintly. He must not have cared about seeing her at the diner. If anything, she was glad to have the task—it gave her purpose.

As she closed her eyes, Harper reminded herself why she kept going. She was smart, even if the world tried to convince her otherwise. She had wits and determination, and those were things no hardship could take from her.

Tomorrow was another chance to prove it.